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

Deidre awoke alone and naked in bed. Her head hurt, and she felt grimy from the night sweats. The night was a blur in her mind, a combination of strange, fuzzy dreams about blood and tossing and turning from the horrible fever. She remembered touching Darkyn’s chest and feeling aroused by the idea of his hands on her. From there, the night was a blurry fever dream. She’d dreamt of sleeping with Darkyn. Just the thought made her head hurt worse. The dread and guilt at the pit of her stomach were countered by the confusion of knowing that she’d fallen into the grip of the Immortal laws first with Gabriel then with Darkyn.

  Was any of what she felt real?

  Was Darkyn or Fate right about what was supposed to happen?

  She was so hungry! Distraught, she rolled over to find the first surprise of the day on the block of stone that acted as a nightstand: an obsidian tray of fruit and fresh pastries. The scents made her stomach roar to life.

  Hell had a magic library. Did it have a magic bakery, too?

  Unable to dwell on how Hell knew what she liked for breakfast, she wolfed down the pastries and a banana before crossing to the bathroom for a shower. She scrubbed herself down, angry at the Immortals as a whole for tolerating a system that screwed over their mates and eliminated free will. Darkyn’s assertions about her destiny being with him left her in a foul mood.

  The Dark One was not capable of a healthy relationship. Gabriel had been, and she was furious at herself for not taking him more seriously and for choosing to accept Darkyn’s deal instead of taking a chance with Gabriel. If Gabriel had killed her while trying to save her, he’d kill the soul in her head, too, the one that damned Deidre to Hell. All of this would’ve been avoided.

  She hadn’t been ready to die, though. Did it make her a bad person for wanting the best chance at life? She hadn’t thought so, but then again, she never expected to end up in Hell.

  Unwritten terms, Darkyn called them. The ones only he knew that let him win.

  Maybe Zamon had answers. He might at least explain what these laws were that condemned her to Darkyn. She didn’t believe that her bet with Past-Death wouldn’t make a difference. If Past-Death being dead had rendered Deidre the mate of Gabriel, why wouldn’t it work again, once Deidre won their deal?

  “I feel like crap,” she muttered and rested her forehead against the black stone wall of the shower. The water was hot and the water pressure brutal. It helped wake her up without completely lifting the fog of a fever that had been present since yesterday.

  Darkyn’s amusement at the deal made her shudder. She had to figure out what she was missing fast and how permanent it was to be an Immortal mate.

  Deidre turned off the shower, some semblance of a plan comforting her. She dressed then went through the motions of brushing her teeth and dressing without the aid of a mirror, irritated that the only mirror in the bedroom was in the inside door of the wardrobe. She wiped the last of the toothpaste from her mouth and glanced down. Blood bubbled from the cut on her index finger. She stuck it in her mouth and cut it again. The wounds healed almost instantly.

  Puzzled, she studied her finger, not understanding what was cutting it. She had no old wounds she was reopening. She ran her tongue across her gums again and froze.

  Deidre whipped the door open, ignoring the sting of her wet hair against her shoulders. The dress shifted around her as she hurried to the wardrobe. She pushed open the door with the mirror and stared. Petite, white, pointed fangs extended from her upper gums to rest on her plump lower lip.

  “No, no, no,” she whispered and pushed at the teeth with a finger. They were real. She bared her teeth. Her two canines were larger than before and gave her the appearance of a vampire.

  Or demon. The Dark One was going to turn her Immortal. Had he made her a demon?

  She controlled her breathing to keep her frantic emotions from consuming her.

  Her eyes went to the mantle where the hourglass remained. Deidre strode to the hearth and picked up the time marker that was no larger than her pinkie. She tilted it. The sand only moved one way, even when upside down.

  She found herself poking the new teeth with her tongue to confirm they really were there.

  Maybe they were temporary. When the sand ran out, she’d have no Darkyn tattoo, no demon fangs, no Past-Death standing between her and Gabriel.

  How certain are you? Darkyn had baited her.

  She wasn’t. At all. What if she won but stayed a demon? What if she lost and stayed a demon? Whose bright idea was it to turn her into a demon anyway? What if she lost the bet entirely?

  She swallowed hard to keep tears from forming.

  There had to be a way out of this. Fate said to do what Darkyn said. Fate wanted Past-Death dead. Thus far, he’d been the most helpful of the Immortals. He wasn’t going to abandon her, too, was he?

  Deidre went back to the mirror and gazed at herself. She wore the Grecian style gown of Hell: secured around her neck by a loose band, it draped over her curves and pooled at her feet, leaving her arms, shoulders and back bare to the hips. She wore the metal collar that marked her as Darkyn’s food source. The scars the Dark One created when he turned her Immortal were more faded today than yesterday.

  Her pink hair was up in a bun that revealed the delicate cut of her elfin features. Her large blue-green eyes were clear and calm, the curves of her slender frame complemented by the cut and drape of the dress. Her lips were red and her features flushed from the fever. She sensed more than saw the largest difference within her. The sunny glow she was known for was gone, replaced by a sultriness rendered dangerous by the fangs resting on her lower lip.

  She looked seductive, no longer sweet. The distinction left her feeling torn. She’d lost something when the Dark One turned her. At the same time, the petite woman in the mirror was beyond gorgeous, the combination of shimmering seductiveness and cool beauty stunning.

  She had fangs.

  Deidre closed the door, near tears once more. She raised the hourglass. She had to make it only a few more days.

  “You still don’t believe me.”

  She tensed at his low voice. She hadn’t heard him enter but doubted the Dark One used doors.

  “I don’t know what to believe,” she replied. “None of this is real.”

  “It is.”

  “What did you do to me?”

  “I turned you.”

  “Into what?”

  “What do you think?”

  Deidre faced him. Across the room, Darkyn held the tension of a taut rubber band. His predatory gaze was on her. No part of his stance or piercing look was welcoming and yet, she felt the urge to cross to him. A flash of a dream went through her mind. It was of his lean body pressing her into the bed while they made love. She shook her head, not about to believe anything of the sort happened outside her nightmare.

  Darkyn’s hands were clasped behind his back. He approached her, eyes on her lips. Deidre didn’t move, afraid of provoking him.

  He reached out to take the hourglass, grazing her skin in the act. Her breath caught at the cool electricity that ran through her. She flushed. His gaze flickered to hers. He was coldly amused. He held up the hourglass in the space between them.

  “Let’s talk, shall we?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I want to,” she replied. She felt too fragile to deal with him.

  “Assume you win your bet. Do you really think you’ll become Gabriel’s mate?” he started, ignoring her. “The chances are slim it will work. Both of you bear the mating marks now. She had none before her death. She’d have to be dead-dead which could happen next week or in a millennium.”

  Deidre swallowed hard. She recalled the other thing she hated about interacting with him: he always knew how to read her deepest fears. He was good at throwing them back at her, too, like he was doing now.

  “So? What if I can … um, expedite that?” she asked.

  “Love, you couldn’t kill me. You can’t kill her.”

  Deidre met his gaze. To emphas
ize his words, he lifted her hand and placed it over his heart. Her chin trembled at the steady pulse of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. She’d felt it last night, too, before … before the fever dream about them having sex.

  It had to be a dream, except that she remembered the heat of the skin beneath his shirt and tracing the scars she knew covered his body.

  “What do you want from me, Darkyn?” she asked, afraid to admit how right he was.

  “For you to accept that this is where you belong.” He tossed the hourglass onto a chair. Her eyes followed it. It was her one hope out of this place.

  She shook her head. Deidre’s heart was flying at his nearness. His magic crept up her arm and into her body. She dropped her hand from his chest, needing to think.

  “Very well. The chances are slim that what you want will happen. I prefer the alternative of them being non-existent,” he said. “There are three bonds that are older than time. The mating bond is one, used by Immortals and deities. A blood bond is another, practiced between demons in place of the mating bond. There’s only one entity in the universe that can transform a human into a new form that can be blood bound to a demon.”

  She didn’t have to ask which entity that was. She touched her mouth and felt the canines at the mention of transforming her. She suspected he was one step ahead, but she wasn’t expecting him to reveal his plan.

  “We will be blood bound. Think of it as …insurance. That slim chance you leave here becomes no chance.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  “You are mine already,” he said in a quiet voice. “If the blood bond takes, there is nothing that can break a double-bond. No deal, no manipulation by Fate, no breaking of the laws from the time-before-time.”

  Deidre’s quick breathing was loud in her ears.

  “I don’t lose,” he added. “Ever.” He touched her face. “The bond is voluntary. You’ve already got the teeth.”

  She shuddered and quickly lifted her chin.

  “I won’t,” she said, unable to stomach the idea that he turned her demon or that there was no chance she ever left Hell. “Nothing you do will convince me.”

  “No?” He touched her arm.

  Deidre backed away. If his touch was hard to resist last night, it was crippling today. Anger and panic bubbled within her. She fell into his trance last night; she needed to keep her head clear to deal with him this time. Except she was suddenly hungry again, the faint, sweet scent winding through her senses.

  Darkyn pursued calmly, eyes glowing. He touched her again. She moved away. He was amused at whatever game he played as he closed the distance between them once more. It fed her fury. He took her arm, and she yanked away from him.

  “Don’t touch me!” she hissed.

  He reached for her once more, and she slapped his hand away.

  “If there is a way out, I will find it!” she snapped. “Fate said …” she stopped, recalling the blond deity’s warning about not revealing he had visited.

  “You trust Fate over me?” Darkyn mused. “Interesting. What did he tell you? Obey me, and you’d leave?” He continued to move closer.

  “Yes.” Her senses addled, Deidre was forced to retreat.

  “What exactly did he say? That you’d leave?”

  “That I’d be …” relatively okay. Fate hadn’t said anything about leaving. She shook her head to clear the memory. “I mean, he didn’t say leave … he …” A sick sense of betrayal sank into her stomach. “Survive. He said I’d survive.”

  “Maybe he wanted to ensure I didn’t kill you before we were bound.” Darkyn pretended to consider.

  “You made a deal for me. Why would you kill me?”

  “If I don’t like what I find, I’m not obligated to keep you alive before the bonds form,” he said pointedly. “You interpreted what he told you in a way that gave you hope.”

  She knocked away his next attempt to reach her, fully aware he was distracting her physically while whittling down her resistance mentally.

  “Of all the Immortals and deities fucking with you, I have no need to lie. Yet you trust him over me.”

  “I don’t trust any of you! From the first minute I was dragged into this fucked up world, I’ve been lied to and used. Past-Death claims to – stop! Don’t touch me!” she said with a shudder at the fire his fingers sent through her arm. “Past-Death almost killed me and you trick me into coming here. Now you want to make sure I never leave!”

  “I saved your life. By law, you are mine twice over even without the blood bond.”

  Her back hit the wall. He stopped close enough for their bodies to touch if she breathed in too deeply.

  “I’m the only one who hasn’t lied to you. Even Gabriel has,” Darkyn said.

  “No,” she said flatly. “You won’t turn me against him.”

  “Why? Because you felt the mating bond with him first? The same one you feel with me? He did nothing but hide the truth from you. Your illness, Wynn, Past-Death. He was in love with a ghost and unwilling to take a chance on you. Did he tell you who he was before he fucked you?”

  “Stop!” she grated. His words struck her as true; they were the same doubts she’d had about Gabriel since she met him. Feeling claustrophobic, she broke the plane between them and shoved him. Darkyn caught her hands and pushed them down to her side. His magic shot through her. His nearness was driving her crazy. She smelled something faint, familiar. Entrancing. It was calling to her. She felt as if she hadn’t just eaten a large breakfast. She was starving.

  “You know the Immortal mating bond is what made you connect with him,” Darkyn continued.

  “No,” she insisted. “You can never understand.” She stared hard at his chest as she struggled with her anger and need. They were spinning out of control, fed by the direct contact with him and the elusive scent that was making her mouth water. Her whole body was burning up with something she never, ever expected to feel for a demon: need.

  “So you feel nothing now,” he stated. “Say it. Lie to me and tell me you aren’t about to throw yourself at my feet and beg me to fuck you.”

  His mocking tone infuriated her. She wrenched free of his hold and pushed him hard enough to slide out from between him and the wall.

  “I wonder what your Gabriel will think when he finds out. Fucking the Dark One. Blood bound to the Dark One. And only the Dark One.”

  “It won’t happen.”

  Breathing raggedly, she tried hard to rein in the emotions that were close to landing her in trouble. She hated his rules, but she wasn’t fighting him. She was trying hard not to run. She wasn’t going to give him an excuse to attack her. It struck her that he was baiting her, perhaps for that reason.

  “I am sick of this shit,” she said. “I’m sick of deities and Immortals tricking and lying to me. What do you want? Or are you just tormenting me for the fun of it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  She faced him again. “You wouldn’t be here if it didn’t. You won’t convince me what I felt towards Gabriel wasn’t real, and there is nothing you can do to make me do this blood bond.”

  “You already know the Immortal mating is what made you feel that way towards Gabriel. If you thought otherwise, you wouldn’t have fucked me last night,” he said, meeting her gaze.

  “What? I …” she gaped at him. “It was a dream!”

  “It was the final stage of your transition into a demon. It might have felt like a dream, but I can assure you it was not,” he said, smiling.

  “I refuse to believe you,” she cried. “Tell me what you want or just leave me alone!

  “I did. I want you to accept that you belong here, and I want to hear the words.”

  “What words?”

  “The ones where you tell me you’re mine.”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ve started to admit the truth to yourself,” he added. “I want to hear it out loud.”

  “If I say the words you want, are you manipulating me
into this bond, the same way you did to get me into Hell?” she demanded.

  “You’re mine either way.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m Gabriel’s,” she retorted.

  Darkyn gave a slow smile. “How certain are you?”

  “I’ll never say those fucking words, and I’ll never be blood bound!”

  “My bet is that you will do both before the hourglass runs out.”

  “I’m not about to be tricked into another bond or whatever it is you’re trying to trick me into,” she replied.

  “No tricks,” he said. “How about this. A private deal, just between us. If we become blood bound, you say the words.”

  “If we don’t?”

  “You don’t,” he said with a shrug.

  “What about the unwritten terms?”

  “None. Simple deal.”

  She studied him. She’d never let him blood bind her, but he wasn’t someone who took no for an answer, even if it was allegedly voluntary. Double-bound, though, meant she was fucked as far as Gabriel.

  “I’m not playing your game,” she said and turned away again. Her body was trembling. She didn’t know why, couldn’t get control of either her emotions or the hunger in her blood. They left her beyond confused, terrified and certain she didn’t want anything to do with Darkyn right now.

  “You know I’m right. You know Past-Death will stop at nothing to get what she wants,” Darkyn said. “I foresee you winning your deal. I also foresee Gabriel refusing to kill her. He cannot. She’s his mate by Immortal laws, and we both know how seriously he takes his duty. He will protect her, as is his obligation. No one will challenge Death to kill her. Which leaves you here. With me. For eternity. My informal deal is one week. At the end of it, if you’ve not bound yourself to me, then the deal expires. We can spend eternity together and you never say the words.”

  Darkyn was right. She knew Gabriel. He’d sworn to protect her, even while pushing her away. He followed the laws. She found no flaws in Darkyn’s logic, which only made her despair soar.

  “Are the words part of the blood binding rite?” she asked. She was almost ready to say whatever he wanted to get rid of him. Her world was crushing her; she needed to be alone.

  “No.”

  “It must be voluntary?”

  “On both our parts.”

  “Why are the words so important? Me being your mate isn’t enough?” she guessed. “You want complete surrender.”

  “You did that last night, no matter what you choose to remember.” The husky laugh made her stomach flutter. “Mentally, you are holding out. I spent my life at battle. There is no such thing as half a victory. I won’t let you think there’s a chance this isn’t real or permanent.”

  “So, that’s it?” she asked.

  “That’s it. Private deal. One week.”

  The idea that it bothered him enough to provoke a deal made her brow furrow. All she had to do was make it a week without agreeing to the blood binding. There had to be a catch with Darkyn’s deal. She didn’t see it, though, unless he intended to force her to do it, in which case, she was fucked anyway. The words would mean nothing to her at that point.

  “Fine,” she said, at the end of her rope with him. “Will you leave me alone now? Please.”

  “Not quite. I came to feed as well.”

  Deidre heard him approach from behind. She tensed, waiting for the flip to switch and him to grab her. He touched her, trailing his hands down her arms. Her body responded to him in a way that made her angrier. He nudged her head to the side to reach her neck, and she pushed back, refusing.

  His hands on her arms made her body betray her again. It was harder to resist him than it was Gabriel, which made her want to weep. She didn’t understand it. It wasn’t possible she was meant for Darkyn. He nudged her head once more. She refused him.

  “Rules,” he reminded her.

  “Fuck your rules,” she said. “And fuck you if you think I’ll ever volunteer to be bound to you.”

  “That’s why I have insurance.”

  He pulled her into his body, and the intensity of the strange hunger within her expanded. She focused on what he said to keep herself distracted from the yearning growing in her body. She felt his arousal against her backside, while his other hand rested on the bare skin of her hip. Hot nips started down the side of her neck. Overwhelmed, she instinctively tilted her head in submission, exposing her neck to him.

  “I don’t lose deals, Deidre,” he repeated. “You were bound last night.”

  The images he placed in her mind were of her arching beneath him, crying out his name, while he drank from her. She recalled biting him and the taste of his blood. It was thick in her mouth, slightly sweet, and made her ravenous. It was her fever dream without the heaviness of illness to blur it.

  “No,” she said. “You’re messing with me.”

  Darkyn responded by removing his hand from her body. He ran one finger along her lips. She felt a drop of warmth and instinctively licked it. Warm, sweet.

  Him.

  Her hunger became crippling. She wrenched away from him, desire and thirst making her head reel.

  “Look in the mirror,” he said, nodding his head towards the wardrobe. “You’ve got the demon marking already.”

  Deidre fled to it, needing something to bolster the defenses that were dropping too fast. She yanked the wardrobe open and turned to peer over her shoulder.

  She had two markings on her back: One burgundy, the familiar Immortal mating tattoo, and the new one black, positioned directly beneath the original. Both displayed Darkyn’s name. Shocked, she wasn’t able to move.

  “You will never have a chance with Gabriel, even when you win your deal.” Darkyn touched her arm again, his cool energy making her snap.

  “You son of a bitch!” she whispered. “I will never say those words!” Deidre slapped him hard. Darkyn’s tongue flickered out to catch the drop of blood from the corner of his mouth.

  She raised a hand to slap him again, but he grabbed her. Any control she had slid away. She struggled against him, not caring what he did to her now that he’d taken away her only real hope of leaving.

  He kissed her. The taste of the blood in his mouth ensnared her instantly. She stilled, arrested by the flavor and texture. All conscience effort to think fled and was replaced by a new instinct, the primal need to feed. He released her. Deidre took his face in her hands, hungrily trying to taste more of him as she explored his mouth with fervor.

  Only when every last lingering fleck of blood was gone did her ability to think return. She dropped back on her heels, staring up at him in surprise. Darkyn’s dark eyes glowed. His fangs were out, his attention riveted to her.

  “Blood bond,” he said quietly. “The original bond from the time-before-time. Demons are the only who still practice it. Immortals and deities have mating marks. Demons have blood marks. I am both a deity and a demon, which means you have both. Insurance.” He stepped away, towards the bed, peeling off his shirt as he went.

  Deidre couldn’t register what he said and how permanent he claimed it was.

  “I know you are hungry. Come feed with me.”

  She drank blood! Horrified, Deidre started toward the door. She needed to run away, far away, until this nightmare was over.

  Darkyn stopped where he was and lifted a hand. He slid a fingernail across the pad of his thumb.

  The scent of blood was crippling.

  She tried to turn away, but the smell filled her senses with inhuman hunger and desperation. Deidre sank to the floor, not trusting herself. She wanted – needed – to taste him again. It was painful. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her knees and tucked her face in the crook of one elbow.

  Wake up, Deidre! She ordered herself.

  Too aware of him, she tensed as he crouched beside her, the scent too potent to be a dream.

  “I can’t … do this.” She shook as much from need as fear.

  “You already have.”


  “It’s wrong.”

  “You feed me. I feed you. We give each other life. What is so wrong in that?” he countered. His cool touch calmed her this time, parted the reeling emotions and chaotic thoughts.

  On some level – in the newfound instincts that wanted to taste him – his words made sense. Even with him taking the edge off, reality still wasn’t real. This place, him, her situation – they couldn’t be, or she was going to go insane.

  “Let me go. Please,” she whispered, raising her head to see him.

  “It’s too late for that.”

  “Is there no part of you capable of …” she stopped. His eyes were so cold and ancient. Hard. Unforgiving. Merciless.

  “No, there’s not,” he replied just as softly.

  “Am I so bad that I end up married to the devil?”

  “You are the only innocent soul in Hell.” His chilling smile did nothing to make his statement more tolerable.

  Darkyn tipped her chin up, until she met his gaze again.

  “This is where you belong. You must accept that. You must accept me. I didn’t just turn you Immortal; I turned you into one of my kind. A demon. One who must feed on blood to live.”

  He offered his bloodied thumb. With effort, she turned her head away.

  “I can’t be like you. I can’t hurt people or drink their blood,” she said.

  “You don’t have to. You will only drink from me. You will only hunger for me.”

  “And you?” she asked, bitterness in her voice.

  “The same.”

  Uncertain if she understood him or not, Deidre studied him. He had yet to lie to her, and she didn’t think he was now. He had no need to; this was his domain. In his mind, she was already his.

  “I will only drink from you,” he said slowly, clearly. “It is what being blood bound means. Think of it this way, love. You are saving five lives a day, simply by being my mate.” He smiled.

  Deidre’s mouth almost fell open. “You were killing so many people?”

  “Bled them dry. This will help you rationalize and accept your place here, I believe.”

  She swallowed. “You turned me into a demon.”

  “I did.” He shifted forward as he spoke and nudged her head aside with his. The low purr in his chest was audible. He nuzzled her neck.

  Deidre closed her eyes, hating that she was turned on by the thought of him feeding from her. Of her needing his blood.

  He turned her into a demon. A creature that required blood to live. More tears squeezed from her eyes. She already sensed she was fighting a losing battle. She wanted him so bad, it hurt.

  “Drink,” he whispered.

  The impulse to do as he bid was too strong. She touched his neck with trembling hands and felt his pulse. He, too, was a demon, but he had a human body, a heart, blood.

  He waited.

  “There’s no going back,” she said hoarsely.

  “No, there’s not.” Sensing she was yielding, Darkyn drew her into his body.

  Deidre’s breathing was ragged as she tried to process what she was about to do. She found herself nuzzling his neck, compelled by the elusive scent and taste. Why didn’t the idea disgust her like she thought it should?

  “This is really happening,” she said in disbelief.

  “It is. You can’t hurt me. Drink.”

  “If you knew I was blood-bound, why provoke me into a deal you already won?” she asked.

  “You need to confront what is before you. Gabriel’s biggest mistake was not forcing you to accept your new world from the start. I will not make the same one,” he replied. “And I like to know you’ve got some fight in you. I’ll teach you how to fuck like a demon before the week is out.”

  She hesitated. Need was thick in her body, an inhuman craving she knew now how to satisfy. She bit him timidly, failed to draw blood, then closed her eyes and bit him hard.

  He growled, a sound that made his chest vibrate against hers in a way not remotely human. He didn’t tell her to stop. The growl faded to a purr. She drew his blood into her mouth, immediately appeased by the elusive flavor that made her blood burn. She was tasting him.

  The unnaturally deep intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on her. Deidre eased against him, the tension fleeing her body. Her senses became saturated quickly by his scent and heat. She withdrew her teeth from his neck, not at all certain what to think of what she’d done.

  “You are the first and only to draw my blood.” His purr was husky.

  She rested her cheek against his, and they breathed the same air, his steady and hers erratic. Deidre felt the wetness of her tears. She was confused again, unable to shake the memory of Gabriel or fully accept this new fate.

  “That means something important, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  “It means I accept you as my mate,” he said. “It means you can fight me now.”

  “How about running?”

  “Try it and see.”

  “I’m not ready for that,” she replied. “I’m not ready for this. For you.”

  “The bonds are complete.” His shifted, and his tongue flickered out to capture her tears. “There’s nothing else between you and me, except you accepting it.”

  Deidre wasn’t expecting his version of kindness. He was too hard and cold to offer much in that way, but he spoke the truth softly and then kissed her hungrily. She responded, her sorrow and confusion feeding her need. He lifted his head.

  “No more tears,” he said. A cunning smile crossed his face.

  She stared, not understanding. She smelled it suddenly and jerked, scouring his body to find the blood whose scent stirred her senses. She spotted the maroon drops on the pad of one thumb and drew his hand up to her lips. Before she could capture the drops, he lifted his hand above his head, out of her reach. He stood.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, confused. She rose with him.

  “Provoking you.”

  Hunger roared within her. Deidre stretched but couldn’t reach. He pushed her away and moved towards the bed. The sensations within her churned and burned in a way that demanded she do something. She treaded to him and pulled his head down to kiss her then nudged it aside instead to reach his neck.

  Darkyn pushed her away again. Madness was settling into her at the scent and sight of his blood. She could neither control her body’s reaction to it nor satiate it.

  “Come on. I’ll teach you to play with your food.” The light of challenge was in Darkyn’s eyes. He waited.

  Deidre caved, unable to take the newfound hunger. She went to him. She ran her hands over his chest and leaned forward, nipping him hard enough to draw blood.

  “Nice try,” Darkyn chuckled. He grabbed her hips, kissing her hard and leaving her breathless. He drove her back onto the bed, pressed her down and rested on top of her.

  Deidre reached for him, straining to ease the need to taste him. Darkyn played keep away, until she was drowning in heat, desire and the hot hunger that felt like it was going to consume her. His solid body was on top of hers yet unattainable. He withheld kisses and blood, refusing to sate either of her cravings.

  “Come on. Play,” he whispered into her ear. His direct look managed to stir what part of her wasn’t already desperate.

  Near frenzied, Deidre fought to pull some part of him close enough for her to taste. He growled in response and nipped her neck, pushing her away roughly. He was different than the last deity she’d slept with. Whereas Gabriel was willing to give-and-take, Darkyn toyed with her and demanded submission in exchange for controlled pleasure.

  He alternately let her feed just enough to drive her mad then drank from her, while he commanded her body relentlessly. Only when he finished with her did he relent.

  Panting and exhausted, Deidre couldn’t have moved, had he not shifted to hold her against him.

  “Drink,” he whispered.

  Deidre let her newfound instincts guide her. She fed. The hunger abated, and she dro
pped her head back to the pillow, satisfied. Her body entwined with his, she breathed in his scent as deeply as she could. Her mind returned now that her need was gone, and she opened her eyes.

  She drank blood. She slept with the devil. Why wasn’t she freaking out?

  “I am very satisfied with you, my little human,” Darkyn said, his lips moving against her temple.

  “I get to live another day,” she murmured.

  “Maybe two, if you please me again.”

  “You’re not funny.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me now.”

  “Is that true?” she asked. “Like, really true?”

  “I have no need to lie to you.”

  Deidre was quiet. Physically at ease with him, she nonetheless had no idea how to talk to a lover who was neither one she chose nor human. She couldn’t help thinking the creature whose job it was to trick people into Hell wasn’t above lying to the human mate he took.

  “You’re not afraid I’ll try to run away?” she asked.

  “You need my blood and don’t yet understand how to curb the hunger. If you leave, you won’t stay away long or go far.”

  Her face warmed at how desperate she’d been for a single drop of him, to feel him inside her while his fangs sank into her neck.

  “Insurance,” she whispered, distraught. “You’re serious about keeping me.”

  “I don’t lose. I love a fight and an absolute victory even more,” he replied.

  Her eyes blurred with tears. She wiped them away. Darkyn was quiet and still, his body relaxed for the first time since she’d known him. He slid a pointed fingernail down her arm. Blood bubbled up. The scratch healed itself as fast as it formed.

  “You will be able to use some of my magic,” he said, following her gaze. “You will heal like I do. You will have the instincts of a demon and a human. I’ve assessed that you are vulnerable to the deception and depravity of others. In time, the ability I’ve shared with you will enable you to determine deception, weakness and threat from others.”

  “Like a human lie detector?”

  “Of sorts. You will sense without reading minds.”

  “If I had that originally, Wynn couldn’t have almost killed me and I wouldn’t be here now,” she murmured.

  “It’s useless to dwell on what might’ve been. What is and will be are all that matters.”

  She ran her hand down his arm and side, unable to shake the desire to saturate her senses with every part of him. The thought of an eternity with someone incapable of caring for her was a nightmare beyond those she had already lived. She tried to distract the building panic.

  “Do demons have emotions?” she asked.

  “They are not of your understanding,” he replied. “The blood bond is the greatest obligation a demon can take to another. It is not based on emotion.”

  “You did it to make sure you win a deal. That doesn’t seem …” smart.

  “Smart,” he repeated, even though she hadn’t spoken it. Darkyn lifted his head to study her. “How would a human who lived a fraction of one life judge my actions as foolish?” He tensed.

  “You’re angry. That’s an emotion I do understand,” she said. “It scares me.”

  He said nothing for a moment then lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. His body relaxed. Deidre took it as a sign he was passing on the subject. She did the same, unwilling to provoke him.

  “Why me, Darkyn?” she asked, distraught. “I’m nothing like you.”

  “You see the stars and the moon instead of how dark the night is.” He quoted, trailing hot kisses along her collarbone.

  Her whole body deflated at his mocking tone. They were the same she’d said to Gabriel on the beach, the night they met. She’d been on the verge of dying, discussing how her impending death forced her to decide whether she wanted to live or mourn.

  “That’s so cruel,” she whispered.

  “I made a deal for you. No one else.”

  She considered his words anew as she heard her own. He wanted a mate. He wanted her. Darkyn was like a housecat that dragged in beheaded birds and left them in the middle of the floor for its owner. Was the offering a compliment or a complaint?

  She was too unsettled by the past two days to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Can demons love?” she asked.

  “No,” he replied. “We have no need for such a human emotion.”

  “Not even for affection?”

  “I know pleasure.”

  “That’s physical. Is there no demon equivalent for … mental pleasure? Fondness?”

  “There’s no difference for demons.”

  Deidre had the sense of speaking a different language, even though she understood his words. How did they not have emotions when she saw signs of them?

  “Humans are emotional,” she said.

  “It’s a weakness I exploit.”

  She frowned.

  “Do you really kill five people a day to feed?” she asked, a streak of raw fear going through her. She couldn’t fathom the amount of pain he had caused over his lifetime.

  “Sometimes more.” He nuzzled her neck again. “Now I’ll only need you.”

  She was comfortable in bed with him – yet silently panicking as well. Deidre didn’t understand how to balance the two sensations, the physical need that made her want to drink more of him and beg him to make love to her again, and the inability to believe her fate was at the side of the Dark One. She was saving lives, yes, but she wished there was a different way to do it.

  She sought a safer topic, one that wouldn’t leave her ready to scream.

  “I found Zamon yesterday, before uh, the incident with the other demons,” she said.

  “You do not find Zamon. He lures you to him.”

  “Hmm,” she said, troubled. “He’s not out to eat me, is he?”

  “No. He asked me if he should be talking to you.”

  “And you said …”

  “You’re the mate of the Dark One. You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

  His irritated honesty startled her enough that she started to laugh. The sound surprised her after the intensity of their interactions. She choked it back quickly, appalled she was able to find humor at such a time.

  “The only thing he can’t do is teach you to deal. I alone will do that,” he added.

  “You’re not afraid I’ll learn something to break the bonds?” she asked.

  Darkyn pushed her far enough to meet her gaze.

  “You’re mine. There’s no going back.”

  At the reminder, she looked away, uncertain how to handle her newest foray into the weirdness that was the Immortal world.

  “The taste of a human and the stamina of a demon. I want to fuck you like this every night,” Darkyn said and nipped her neck.

  “You only have a week,” she retorted.

  “That reminds me. Someone lost a bet,” he said.

  She shook her head, emotions stirring one more.

  “You lost the deal.” He gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. Cold and merciless, this creature was her mate for all time. The brutal reality was that he’d double-bound her to ensure he didn’t lose – and not because any part of him was capable of affection. She was stuck with the creature behind the evil in the world.

  There was no going back.

  “Look at me.” His tongue flicked out to taste her tears. “Say the words.”

  She drew a shaky breath. Darkyn’s face hovered next to hers. The ancient intelligence in his gaze terrified her, and she couldn’t escape the scent of blood and sex that left her feeling intoxicated and wanting more of him.

  “I’m yours, Darkyn,” she whispered.

  The predatory smile crossed his face. She tried to twist away from him. He held her in place.

  “You got what you wanted,” she objected. “You win!”

  “Say it again.”

  She stopped struggling, overcome by feelings.

&n
bsp; “I’m yours, Darkyn,” she said.

  “You don’t yet accept it,” he observed. “You will soon, love. You will know before the week is out where you belong.”

  She rolled away from him, not wanting to cry in front of him but unable to prevent the tears that were starting to form.

  Darkyn left her silently. Only when he was gone did she let herself cry.

  DAY three

  Chapter Three