by Lizzy Ford
In Hell, human-Deidre sat next to the hearth hours after she made the deal with the goddess who stranded her. She hadn’t seen her new mate, Darkyn – the Dark One – since he drank his fill of her hours before and left. Her lightheadedness was gone and she was grateful his bloodsucking was pain free. Not by his choice, which was clear. If she hadn’t bartered for a painless existence, she’d be trying to kill herself to get away from him.
If, for some reason, she was stuck here forever, at least he wasn’t going to hurt her, as long as she followed his rules.
No running. No fighting.
Either of them was too much of a turn on to a demon that reveled in causing pain. The idea made her panic. How long would it take Gabriel to find her and rescue her?
Would he be able to, if he thought the goddess Past-Death was his mate?
Her stomach growled. A look around her bedchamber with its black, stone walls, ceiling and floor revealed nothing remotely edible. The large bed was set in a similar stone bed frame and covered with dark coverings. The room was allegedly the most comfortable Hell had to offer. She wasn’t able to tell what time it was in Hell. There were no clocks and she had no cell phone. Her room was made of black stone and quiet with no sounds except the crackle of fire.
It wasn’t bad. She had no intention of spending eternity there, though.
She stood, hungry. Made of material softer than silk, the black dress she wore pooled at the top of her feet. Her back was bare to display the name of Darkyn amid the Immortals’ geometric writing that marked her as an Immortal mate.
She put her hair down to hide the mark, horrified by the idea of belonging to the devil.
Deidre’s hand went to her neck, where Darkyn had placed a slender collar. If his name scrawled across her shoulders didn’t mark her as his, the collar did. She didn’t think any demon in Hell was going to mess with the Dark One’s mate. At least, she hoped not.
She stood in front of the door nervously for a long moment, not certain it would open.
It did.
There were no longer demon guards outside her door, maybe because Darkyn knew she couldn’t leave. If her bond to him was like hers to Gabriel, he’d be able to find her no matter what.
She couldn’t think about such things without wanting to break down and weep. First things first: she needed food to survive. Bracing herself, she stepped into the hallway. No one attacked her or told her to stop. She also had no idea where to go.
Deidre closed the door behind her and walked down the hallway. The dress moved with her like a second skin, draping her curves and swishing silently around her legs. She rubbed her mouth. It was dry and her gums irritated. She could use some water, too.
She walked for ten minutes, carefully remembering where she went, so she was able to find her way back. The first demons that crossed her path made her freeze in place. They didn’t notice her, and she released her breath.
Deidre continued through the halls lined with torches bearing black flames. She reached a stairwell and descended to a floor with wider, taller corridors, as if she’d gone from the wing with private chambers to a more public area. There were more demons on this level, a couple of which eyed her before moving on, leaving her a bit more confident she wasn’t going to be eaten. The stone doors lining each side were all closed.
One of them yawned opened as her eyes fell to it.
With an anxious look around to make sure no one was watching, Deidre peeked into the open door, hoping it led to a McDonalds or some other place with food. What she saw puzzled her.
Hell had a library?
At the far end of the library was a creature that made her think twice about entering. White-gray fur covered a body with moth-eaten wings, a hideous face and yellowed fangs. It was hunched over a book large enough to cover half the black stone desk at which it sat. As she watched, the creature rose and hobbled from the desk to a nearby shelf. It wheezed, its body bent by time. The small book it hefted made its stooped posture almost double over. He staggered.
She had the sudden urge to assist him. Whatever creature it was, it had to be ancient. She hesitated then crossed the library.
“Do you want help?” she ventured timidly.
The ugly face turned towards her, and she slowed.
“What are you?” it asked in a voice as old as its leathery face.
Uncertain how to explain things, she turned and swept her pink-dyed hair from her back to show him the mating mark.
“Ah.” It said then concentrated on holding onto the book.
Deidre reached him just as he dropped it. The tome was far heavier than she expected, made of something much different than cardboard and paper. The two of them toppled to the floor with the book.
“It only looks small,” the creature said, peering at her. “The Dark One’s never had a mate.”
“Ever?” she asked. She stood and bent. The book was the size of a paperback she’d buy at an airport but had to weigh fifty pounds. With a grunt, Deidre lifted it and carried it to the table. She returned to the creature, which was climbing to its feet with difficulty. She took its arm and helped him up.
“Ever,” it answered with a wheeze. “But … there has only been one other Dark One before Darkyn.” Its breathing was labored, and it sighed when they reached its chair. “Was the oldest … deity remaining. Very powerful. Don’t know …how Darkyn did it.”
“Maybe he made a better deal,” she suggested. “That is what he does, isn’t it? Makes people horrible deals that screw them over for eternity?”
“This is true. Darkyn is smart. He doesn’t make …mistakes.”
She shivered, not wanting to imagine what Darkyn was capable of or how hard it might be to outmaneuver him to leave Hell. As ugly as the aged creature before her was, there was something about him that left her feeling safe for the first time since arriving to Hell.
“Do you have a name?” she asked.
“Do you?” It looked irritated at her question. “Of course demons have names.”
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m Deidre.”
“A human mate and so soon after he’s taken command.” The ancient demon shook his head in disapproval. “You can call me Zamon. My real name is too hard for you to say.”
“Nice to meet you, Zamon.”
“There was a time … young girls ran when they saw me,” he sounded annoyed then sighed. “That time is gone.”
“If it helps, I’m scared.” Deidre rubbed her upper lip again. Her gums were irritated, reminding her she hadn’t eaten or drunk water in a while. “Do you want me to run away so you feel better?”
“No.” Zamon growled. He pushed the small book around then opened it.
“What kind of library is this?” she asked with a glance around.
“I keep our histories, record bloodlines, manage the deals that come in. I will record you now,” Zamon said.
She watched him turn a page and touch it. Strange writing appeared.
“You are recorded,” he stated, reading the words. “The Oracle says you made your first deal as his mate. You learn fast.” He nodded in approval. “Your deal holds the power of the Dark One to enforce the debt, since you are his.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” she said. Her first deal was made more out of emotion than anything else. She’d challenged Gabriel’s new mate to win him over in one week, or one of them lost their souls.
During the quiet time she’d had since then, Deidre began to think she’d made a bad bet. Gabriel and Past-Death had a relationship that spanned thousands of years. He’d chosen to stay with her that long, and she’d broken Immortal laws to take her place as his mate. Gabriel’s intense hatred was born of intense love and pain, and he’d clearly never made up his mind about her in the time they were together.
In a week, Deidre would be dead or back with Gabriel. At least, this was what she hoped when she made the deal.
“It is dangerous. You should not make deals, until you learn how,” Zamon said stern
ly. “A bad deal by a deity or its mate will ruin the universe.”
“Okay,” she said, startled by his calm statement. “I’ll be careful. How do I learn?”
“Darkyn.”
She frowned. Since he was the one she wanted to learn to outsmart, in case things broke bad, she doubted he’d teach her anything. Another thought crossed her mind as she stood in Hell’s library.
“Can you … teach me things about the Immortals?” she asked. “I don’t know anything about this place. I was a normal human two weeks ago.”
“Maybe.”
Her gaze returned to him. He was concentrating on turning pages and recording things she was unable to read.
“If Darkyn agrees,” Zamon added. “The Dark One likes to control those close to him.”
“You mean there’s more than me?” she asked.
“His daughter.”
“Seriously?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “That … he’s a father?”
“Yes. She was hurt by an Immortal and is in a coma of sorts.”
Deidre stopped herself from pursuing. There was no way she was going to learn more. She had no intention of staying here. Worse, she wasn’t about to give the creature that tricked her into Hell and turned her Immortal an ounce of compassion.
Her stomach growled again.
“I was looking for somewhere I could get food,” she said, reminded of her initial reason for wandering out of her room.
“Human food?”
“Um, yes.”
“You will not want to go where the other human blood monkeys are. Darkyn would not approve. You will have to ask him.”
Deidre sighed. In a place that operated on rigged deals where demons didn’t seem to lose, she was certain anything she asked Darkyn for was going to cost her. That he’d beat out the original Dark One in a deal did not bode well for her.
She was trying hard to keep her fear away so she could figure out this new world. First the unfriendly Immortal society, now this nightmare. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry today. Half an hour after leaving her room, she was ready to break down.
“I’m going to lay down,” she said.
“If you ask him, and he agrees, you can come back,” Zamon said. “I will make time for you.”
“Thank you.”
Zamon nodded once, attention on the book. Deidre retreated into the hallway and started back towards the stairs. There was no way a creature like Darkyn, who valued control over everything, was going to let her talk to Zamon. Or eat. Or anything else.
Her eyes grew misty, and she rubbed them to keep tears from coming.
A door along the hallway ahead of her opened, startling her. Several demons exited, and the stone door closed silently. She ceased walking to wait for them to move down the hallway.
One caught sight of her and stopped. Unlike the others whose paths she’d crossed earlier, he didn’t ignore her. This one nudged the demon beside him. Within seconds, all four of them were watching her like lions a wounded gazelle.
Darkyn warned her about running. Demons loved a challenge and a fight. She held her breath and stayed still, praying their interest was passing, and they’d move on.
They didn’t. One smiled coldly, revealing its sharpened teeth, while another was the first to take a step towards her. Deidre clenched her fists as the four surrounded her in the middle of the hallway.
“Darkyn’s blood monkey,” one demon said, eyes on the band around her neck.
She hadn’t thought to put her hair up; it blocked the name of her mate on her back. Or maybe they didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t care what happened to his mate.
“You know she’ll taste good,” another agreed. “He takes the best ones.”
“He shouldn’t let you off the blood monkey floor.”
“Human?”
She nodded, heart racing. All four growled, hunger in their eyes.
“We’ll give you a head start,” the one in front of her said. He stepped out of her path. “I’ll count to three.”
Deidre shook her head.
“I’ll count to five?”
“No,” she replied. “He won’t want you touching me.” I hope.
Two of them laughed.
“You must be new.”
“As long as we leave some for him. Blood monkeys are afforded no protections here, and he always shares with us. Whatever deal you lost, you’ll suffer demon mercy for as long as we keep you alive.”
Demon mercy. She had a feeling it was a horrible inside joke.
“I’ll count to ten.”
“I’m not running,” she managed.
“Very well. This is less fun, but we still get to eat.” The demon on one side snatched her arm and dragged her to him. His canines lengthened. She shoved at him unsuccessfully. He grinned at the attempt and grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck.
Suddenly, he looked up, an uneasy expression crossing his features. Unable to see what he saw, Deidre prayed it was Darkyn, and the demon lord wasn’t going to join them in passing her around for dinner. The sound of bodies hitting the stone floor behind her preceded Darkyn grabbing her by a few seconds. Deidre was yanked away from the demon holding her then released. Something jarred her, a flash of magic, one that made her more nauseous than what she saw happen next.
Darkyn snatched the demon that intended to make her its dinner. Deidre covered her face as the demon lord tore out the demon’s throat with the same fangs that drank from her. Warm blood sprayed her. He gripped her arm, spun her until her back was to the remaining demon and pushed aside her hair.
“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 bakery 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 m
ake 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.
Deidre’s world shattered. She cried out, body convulsing under waves of pleasure intense enough to push her towards unconsciousness. He rested on top of her, breathing hard, as he pressed her into the bed. She panted. Their bodies were
slick with sweat, and she lingered in the afterglow, lost in the heat and silk of his skin. The effect of his blood in her body was twofold: she felt it moving through her, changing her, while her mind once more was lulled into dreamy confusion. One thought emerged, fed by urgency that was quickly swallowed by cool magic.
She slept with the Dark One – drank his blood like a demon might. No part of it felt unnatural.
Or was it a nightmare only?
Bite me.
There was no way it was real. She’d never drink anyone’s blood!
Deidre lay still for a moment before her eyes opened. She was alone in bed. Fevered and shivering, she felt too weak and hungry to focus well, but the shape of the black hourglass was unmistakable. It sat on the nightstand beside the bed. She reached for it. Her clumsy hand missed it, and she stared at the black sand as it fell towards the bottom of the glass.
It’s too late. Like her other thoughts, this one escaped before she was able to understand its meaning. Whatever was working through her system was making her sick. The dream of Darkyn was no doubt a fever dream, one that caused distant alarm despite her illness.
Exhausted, her eyes fluttered closed. Deidre stopped fighting her body’s cry for sleep and fell into a deep, dark slumber.
Day Two
Chapter Two