Scorched by Darkness: Eternal Mates Series Book 18

by Felicity Heaton

  “I’ll be fine,” she husked softly, a hint of a smile touching her rosy lips.

  The brunet vampire huffed and glared at Hartt. “You get a minute. Nothing more. And I’m waiting outside the door.”

  He shoved past Hartt, knocking his right shoulder back, and slammed the door behind him with enough force to rattle the windowpanes.

  Hartt cleared his throat, pressure building inside him as he felt every second he was wasting. He was sure the vampire would keep his word and give him only sixty of them to convince Mackenzie that she was wrong about him. He should have asked for more time because he felt sure it was going to take hours, if not days to make her believe him.

  If it took forever, he would keep on trying to convince her. He wouldn’t give up on this. On her.

  On them.

  Grave knocked on the door. “Time is up.”

  “Five more minutes,” Hartt growled as he clenched his fists, reining in the urge to storm to the door, open it and convince the vampire to leave through violence.

  It wouldn’t be a wise move. He had already antagonised Grave by fighting his men, even though he had only wounded the ones who had insisted on being in his way—between him and Mackenzie. Somehow, the gods only knew how, he had managed to refrain from killing the vampires.

  “Fine.” Grave’s voice came through the door. “I shall give you twenty, because I am nice.”

  Hartt suspected it was more because he had something else he wanted to do, and he had a feeling that something involved his own mate.

  He waited for the vampire to drift beyond the sphere of his senses before he turned back to Mackenzie. She stood where she had been, a window at her back and the warm light of the oil lamp flickering over her beautiful face, brightening the gold of her eyes.

  Fuck, she was beautiful.

  Put every female he had ever known to shame, including Iolanthe.

  She flicked the soft waves of her flame-red hair over her shoulder, something he had noticed she did whenever she was nervous, and he hated that part of her was afraid of being left alone with him.

  “I don’t want to cage you,” he said, the words falling from his lips without permission, pulled up from and spoken by his heart. She had looked so angry and afraid when she had flung those words at him, as if she honestly believed he would seek to hold her against her will. “I wouldn’t. No matter how things go here… I would never take away your freedom.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers pressing into the waist of her burgundy leather corset. “Just say what you want to say and then you can go.”

  He couldn’t stop himself from frowning at that, barely resisted the urge to step closer to her as a desperate need to make her take back those words ran through him. He feared she had already made up her mind and nothing he said could change it. He pulled down a fortifying breath and calmed his mind, and his turbulent emotions with it. He wouldn’t be swayed, wouldn’t give up hope.

  “What you said about mates,” he started and lined up the words, weighed each one carefully so he didn’t mess this up. “It is how I feel too. I have never really believed in fated mates. I wanted love, real love, and I am starting to believe I have found it.”

  “With Iolanthe,” she bit out, and he didn’t miss the hurt that flared in her eyes, there and gone in an instant as rage shone in them.

  He slowly shook his head and risked a step towards her, unable to deny the ache to be closer to her, to be within reach of her in case she tried to teleport. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stop her in time if she decided to leave like that, wasn’t sure he should try to stop her when he had said he wouldn’t force her into anything. It would probably be better to let her go and then try again another time, but the part of him that recognised her as his ki’ara raged at the thought of being parted from her for even a brief span of time.

  “What I felt for Iolanthe… I am beginning to feel it was more like infatuation.” He raked a hand through his hair and frowned as he struggled with putting his feelings into words. “It was love, but a pale shadow of true love… and I should have seen that when she left me and I didn’t see her for centuries… and I never tried to find her.”

  He risked another step closer, relief washing through him when Mackenzie didn’t back away or teleport out of his life. Her gaze remained steady on his, open and inviting him to continue. He hoped that was a good thing.

  “I could have found her if I had wanted, but I didn’t.” He glanced at his boots, his eyebrows knitting hard, and then lifted his gaze back to hers because he needed to look into her eyes and see that he was reaching her, that he was doing things right this time. “I didn’t even think about her. I moved on with my life. That is not true love.”

  Her eyes softened, just enough for him to notice and feel he was getting through to her. “And what is true love?”

  Something he was sure neither of them had felt before this moment. The tiny flare of fear he could feel in her, the tremulous beat of her heart, and the subtle change in her scent made that clear to him. She was afraid of trusting him with her heart, but she didn’t need to fear. If she offered it to him, he would treat it with the utmost care, would cherish it.

  And he would offer his in return.

  “This, Mackenzie.” He pressed a hand to his chest, flattening his palm over his heart, and his brow furrowed as he gave up trying to control his emotions, as he let them flood him so she could sense them and see them in his eyes. “Gods, I cannot stop thinking about you, and I feel sure that if you left me as Iolanthe did, I would never stop thinking about you. I would search to the uncharted edges of Hell for you, would scour every inch of the mortal world, and I wouldn’t give up until I found you. I would fight for you.”

  “Because you want your fated one.” She hugged herself tighter and fear gripped him as he saw the wall coming up, as her eyes lost all warmth.

  “No,” he bit out and took a hard step towards her, his fear abating a little when she didn’t move away from him, when she let him be closer to her and didn’t push him away. “Not because I want my fated one.”

  He wasn’t sure how to convince her of that.

  His eyes widened slightly as it hit him.

  “If you told me to never claim you as my mate, I would not. I would deny these ridiculous instincts and not take your blood if that would prove to you that my feelings for you are real and I don’t just want my ki’ara.”

  Her hand flew to her throat, her eyes as round as full moons. “You can’t have my blood.”

  The acrid scent of her fear hit him hard and he growled as he realised he was messing things up. She backed off a step as her pulse jacked up in his ears, and he wanted to growl again as he realised it was because she thought he was angry she was denying him her blood.

  He held his hands up, palms facing her.

  He should have known the mention of taking her blood would be a mistake. Witches had caged her and stolen her blood, had murdered her family in pursuit of that precious liquid. He couldn’t blame her for being protective of it.

  The hope that had been slowly blooming inside him faded a little as he thought about what she had been through, about how defensive she looked as she stood with her hand on her throat, her wide eyes filled with horror and fear.

  Maybe this thing between them had been doomed from the very start. His instincts as her fated male were going to press him to mate with her, to take her blood and bind them together. They would have him on edge all the time, vicious around any male until she was his and he had claimed her.

  Fight as he might, he wasn’t sure he would be able to resist the allure of her blood and the call of the bond.

  He wasn’t sure it was wise to deny it.

  It was dangerous enough for normal elves to ignore the mating instinct, but for an elf like him it was a thousand times worse. The darkness he had courted strengthened his need to claim her, constantly snarled and writhed inside him, an oily tide that smothered his more sensible s
ide. Even now, mere minutes after he had vowed to never take her blood, he couldn’t stop thinking about sinking his fangs into her delicate flesh to mark her and claim her.

  Maybe it was better he walked away right now and let her go. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he feared he would end up doing just that if he remained near her. He would fight his instincts, but he was no fool. He was soul-deep aware there would come a moment when he wasn’t strong enough to hold them back, when the temptation was too great.

  She would never forgive him if he crossed that line.

  He went to take a step back.

  Her soft words stopped him in his tracks.

  “We can just see where things go. It’s not a definite no… but I need time… I need to know these feelings I have are real and so are yours.”

  He blinked and met her gaze, relaxed a little as he stared into her eyes, fascinated by the fire that flickered against the gold of her irises, made to look all the brighter by the reddish-brown makeup that surrounded her eyes. The tension that had been filling him melted away as her words ran around his head and seeped deep into his soul, soothing the darkness, calming it until he no longer felt a desperate need to stake a claim on her.

  Resolve filled him instead, determination to take this chance she had given him and prove to her that the attraction they felt, and the emotions steadily growing inside them, were real.

  “Can you give me that?” she whispered, her eyes darting between his, searching them.

  He nodded. “I’ll give you all the time you need and I’ll do my best to ignore my instincts and keep them under control, but… if they get too much… I might have to leave for a while.”

  And it would kill him.

  “Oh,” she murmured, her eyebrows rising high on her forehead, her eyes filling with a soft look of surprise, and he fancied it was tinged with disappointment, imagined her wanting him to stay at her side no matter what.

  Hoped she would miss him like crazy if he had to leave her, just as he would miss her.

  A strange chirruping sound cut through the tense silence and Mackenzie stiffened, her shoulders going rigid just as they had been relaxing and she had looked on the verge of saying something.

  Something he had hoped would be a request for him to remain with her no matter what.

  She fished her phone from the pocket of her burgundy leathers and scowled at it, and then at him. “It’s a message. From Syn. She says you threatened her.”

  Fire lit her irises.

  Hartt crossed the room in a handful of strides, snatched the device from her and glared at the screen. “I did not. She threatened me. How do I make it tell her that?”

  He wanted to growl when Mackenzie snatched the phone back and tucked it to her chest. Her mouth flapped open and for a moment he thought she would accuse him of lying, would side with her friend over him, but then she snapped it closed and frowned.

  She pulled the phone away from her chest and sighed as she glanced at the screen. “It does sound like her. She was a little upset, and with good reason.”

  “Because I hurt you. I am sorry, Mackenzie. I truly am. I thought I needed time to get my head straight and that is the only reason I didn’t stop you from leaving. Only it turned out my head was on straight all along. I realised that when I returned to the guild.” He reached for her hand, wanted to sigh as she let him take hold of it and didn’t reject him.

  “You didn’t go back to Underworld?” Her golden eyes darted between his again.

  He shook his head. “There was nothing for me there. Harbin made me realise what I was looking for wasn’t at the guild either. Well, it wasn’t at my guild.”

  She twisted her hand in his and toyed with his fingers, her eyes remaining locked on his. “How did this Harbin character make you realise it?”

  She looked as if she was fishing now, wanting to hear how crazy he was about her and that he hadn’t been able to live without her.

  “We got into a fight.” He rubbed his eyes as he thought about that, must have missed her horrified look but didn’t miss her gasp.

  “You got into a fight?”

  “It’s the instincts. Being apart from you made me anxious, and normally both Harbin and I release any pent-up energy or work out aggression by sparring with each other.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you were sparring.” Her thumb brushed his lower lip and he shivered as a thousand tiny arcs of electricity tripped along his nerves. “Is that where you got this? I thought maybe Syn gave it to you.”

  He lifted his hand and captured her wrist, held her thumb to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, savoured the connection between them and how it strengthened as he held on to her, as he lingered near to her. “No. She wanted to cut off my head and deliver it to the prince of my kind.”

  “Sounds like Syn.” Her smile was too brief, gone too quickly, the pleasure of it stolen from him as she sobered. “Do you feel aggressive now?”

  He shook his head.

  “But you will if you’re away from me?”

  He nodded this time, and decided to spell it out for her because she deserved to know what she was getting into. “I feel aggressive when you’re near too… If other males are around you. If unmated males look at you. If you look at them. Hell, I go crazy if you look at mated males. Just the thought of you being near the damned vampire—”

  “Does that ever stop?” She stroked his lip and it tingled in response, a need to kiss her filling him as his gaze lowered to her mouth.

  He thought he nodded, wasn’t sure of anything as he stared at her ruby lips. “If we mate.”

  “A mating that requires blood.” She went to take her hand back and as much as he wanted to tighten his grip on it and deny her, he released her instead, sensing she needed a moment.

  “I said I won’t bite you, Mackenzie, and I mean it.” Even though he was fairly sure it would be the death of him. He would go insane from the craving to know the taste of her, from having to hold himself back whenever they were together, restraining himself and his instincts.

  “And I said it wasn’t a no. If this thing works out, then… maybe.”

  He didn’t like how she hesitated, as if she’d had to force herself to say that word. “I don’t want a bond with you if it will feel like a cage. I couldn’t do that to you.”

  Her face softened and she raised her hands, framed his face with her palms and tilted her head back. “There aren’t many men in this world who would do such a thing.”

  And it touched her. He could see that in her eyes as she gazed up at him, as she leaned towards him and her front pressed to his. He would do his best for her.

  Because he was falling madly in love with her.

  He lowered his head, inching his mouth towards hers.

  A snarky female voice shattered the moment.

  “Gross.”

  Chapter 22

  It had been three days since the demoness had interrupted Hartt’s moment with Mackenzie, and the female continued to block him whenever he tried to get near his beautiful ki’ara. He hadn’t been able to get a moment alone with her. The only time Syn let him near her was when they were in the library with Grave and Fuery.

  Hartt had tried to convince Grave and Mackenzie to travel to his guild to come up with a plan, but the vampire had insisted they remained at the stronghold, pointing out the fact it was heavily guarded and mentioning his doubts that the witch would dare attack him there. It had been enough to convince Mackenzie.

  Which had been enough to provoke the darkness in Hartt, had ripped a reaction from him before he could stop it and had seen him flying across the room to collar the vampire and slam him into one of the bookcases.

  It hadn’t gone down well with anyone and Hartt had ended up excusing himself and teleporting to the guild under the pretence of wanting an ally of his own present given the fact that Syn was apparently staying.

  Fuery had been more than angry with him when he had returned to the guild a day ago, but had been quick
to forgive him when he had told him Harbin had been right about Mackenzie and that he was sure now that she was his fated one. Fuery had demanded to go with him when he returned to the vampire’s bastion. Hartt hadn’t bothered to tell him that had been his plan all along, because his friend had seemed almost happy when Hartt had agreed. Getting him to leave Shaia had turned out to be problematic though, and Hartt had been forced to teleport both Fuery and Shaia to the stronghold of the First Legion of the Preux Chevaliers so she would know where it was and could travel there every so often to spend time with her mate.

  The drain of teleporting Fuery and another elf with him had been monumental. It had sent him to his knees in front of the damned vampires. He had almost lost it when several of the males who had been milling around near the fountain in the main square of the stronghold had given him looks that had plainly stated they had witnessed his weakness.

  Mackenzie had thankfully chosen that moment to appear before him, a beautiful look of concern on her face.

  The irritating demoness had appeared before Mackenzie could come to him though and had gotten in the way again. He was beginning to get the impression she was intent on putting a halt to things between him and her friend. It was either that or she was testing his resolve, seeing if she could break him and make him give up.

  It wasn’t going to happen. Somehow, he would find a way to win Mackenzie’s heart.

  First, he had to find a way to be alone with her.

  He looked over his shoulder at the window there as Grave droned on about what his men had found at the old mansion Mackenzie had destroyed, which amounted to nothing. His gaze tracked a few of the vampires, picking out several familiar faces, ones that stoked the darkness inside him. He had caught those males looking at Mackenzie, had catalogued their faces so he could hunt them down when no one was watching and kill them, removing them from the picture so they couldn’t steal her from him.

  Hartt sensed Fuery’s gaze on him, dragged his eyes away from the vampires and tried to smile to alleviate his friend’s concern. Whatever he managed wasn’t convincing. Fuery pushed away from the long oak table and came to him, a silent question in his eyes.