Dark Desire: Dark Series 2

by Lauren Dawes

  “Do you mind if …”

  Eir saw he was gesturing toward the seat beside her. “Please,” she replied, acknowledging his request.

  She watched as he made himself comfortable. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, sneakers and a comfortable-looking jacket with a hood.

  “I’m Mason,” he said, “and that is Sophie,” he added, gesturing at the dog, who was yet to move from Eir’s feet.

  “Sophie? She’s beautiful. What kind of dog is she?”

  Mason smiled, his eyes crinkling a little in the corners. “A German shepherd. A highly intelligent, loyal and mostly well-behaved dog. She’s been with me for over nine years now.” He rubbed her head affectionately.

  “Mostly well-behaved?” Eir inquired.

  “Mostly, but not always, because she disobeyed my order for her to stay when she came running over here to you.”

  “Oh!” Eir gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Mason replied. “Sophie obviously knew something was wrong, so she came over to help.”

  “What do you mean?” Eir replied, her voice soft, her eyes lowered.

  Mason paused. “Sophie’s a therapy dog. She helps me with … some ongoing issues I’ve been having.”

  Eir had heard of pets as therapy animals before, but didn’t want to push Mason for any more details. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk about his problems.

  “I see,” she said cautiously, still staring at Sophie. The dog crept forward a little and rested her head on Eir’s lap. Eir lifted her hand, but hesitated, turning to look at Mason for permission.

  Eir rested her hand gently on top of Sophie’s head, right between her ears.

  “You have a beautiful smile,” Mason murmured, jolting Eir; the smile she had been unconsciously wearing melted away. “What’s your name?” he asked when she had the nerve to look up at him again.

  “Eir,” she practically whispered. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man, but she found herself drawn to him … perhaps it was just because of his beautiful dog and his overwhelming sadness.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Eir,” he said, offering her his hand. As she took it in her own, Mason’s eyes suddenly widened, and Eir felt a familiar warmth against her palm.

  She slid out of his grasp and stood up, nervously smoothing non-existent wrinkles from her coat and pulling its collar closer around her neck. Sophie walked back two paces and sat down again, staring at her. It was uncanny how in tune the dog was with Eir’s feelings, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. Animals were very receptive to strong emotions and hers were all over the place—so all over the place that she had inadvertently begun taking away some of the pain Mason had been feeling, out of habit, without conscious thought.

  Mason was flexing his hand into a fist over and over again. “What just happened?” he asked, staring at her in awe.

  “I …” Oh, no. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” Eir threw the words at him over her shoulder as she rushed away. She had to get out of there. Fresh tears began leaking from her eyes and she wiped them away.

  “Hey! Eir! Wait, please,” Mason called out after her.

  She didn’t know what it was about him—the tone of his voice or the compassion she could sense in him—but she stopped, her chest heaving up and down. He touched her shoulder as he reached her, and Eir found herself relaxing against his hand.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said apologetically. “Let me make it up to you.”

  As she turned around, Mason’s hand fell from her shoulder.

  “Make it up to me, how?”

  His eyes left her face, suddenly shy. “How about breakfast?” he asked.

  Eir’s traitorous stomach decided to growl at that point, effectively answering for her. She wrapped her arms around her torso in a vain attempt to cover the sound, but Mason grinned.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

  Eir’s stomach fluttered for a whole different reason then. “Okay,” she replied, allowing Mason to lead them out of the park towards one of the many cafes that ran along Tremont Street. He was heading towards one of her favorites called the Thinking Cup.

  “Just hold up for a minute,” Mason said a few feet from the door. He’d stopped behind her, pulling a piece of material from his pocket. After getting Sophie to sit down, Mason fitted a black and red ‘Service Dog’ coat over her back and secured the buckles.

  “All set,” he said a moment later, gripping Sophie’s leash in his hand loosely. “Are you ready?”

  Eir nodded and began towards the front door, but before she could pull it open, Mason swept in and did it for her.

  “Thank you,” she said in a small voice, watching Mason’s lips turn up in a small, appreciative smile as she walked past him and into the cafe. They found a table near the back and looked over the menu before deciding.

  “So, Eir, what’ll it be?”

  “I think I’ll get a chocolate croissant and a hazelnut latte.” Eir closed the menu and looked at Mason. “What about you?”

  “Actually, that sounds pretty damn good,” he said. “I’ll get the same. Be back in a minute.” Then to Sophie, he said, “Stay.”

  Eir watched him move towards the counter to order their breakfast while Sophie watched her with soulful brown eyes. Eir looked down at the dog. “What?”

  Tilting her head to the side, Sophie looked at her a moment longer before settling down onto the ground at her feet.

  Mason returned then, sliding into his chair and shaking his head. “She’s sure taken a liking to you,” he said.

  “I can’t imagine why,” Eir replied.

  “I can.” Mason’s words were barely audible and she chose to ignore them.

  “So, Eir, what do you do for work?”

  “I, umm, I work at Mass Gen. I’m a nurse.”

  “Oh, wow. A nurse?”

  She looked down at the tabletop, but not before she caught a wicked smirk tilting up his lips. She could feel a blush heating up her cheeks. It wasn’t the first time she’d received this kind of reaction—men seemed to enjoy the fact that nursing was her profession. She checked over her shoulder, praying to see one of the waitresses walking over with their breakfast.

  “How do you like being a nurse?”

  “I love it,” she replied honestly. “I love being able to help people … you could say that it’s in my blood.” Eir shrugged, meeting his intense gaze, seeing the admiration in his eyes. “So, what do you do?” She had to get away from talking about herself.

  “I’m in security.”

  What follow-up questions were there for that statement? “That’s nice.”

  He laughed. “I guess you could describe it that way.” His grin was infectious, and Eir found herself returning it.

  “Two hazelnut lattes and two chocolate croissants,” the waitress trilled brightly as she approached the table, balancing a tray on one hand while she unloaded its contents.

  “Thank you,” Eir told the young girl once she was done.

  “No problems. Was there anything else I can get for you?” Her Boston accent was heavy.

  “We’re great. Thanks,” Mason answered. The girl blushed, bobbed her head and turned to walk away.

  “So tell me more about the hospital and being a nurse.”

  Eir took a sip from her mug after blowing gently across the surface. “There’s not much to tell, really.”

  “Well, how about you start by telling me how long you’ve been a nurse.”

  Eir swallowed hard. “A long time.” A really, really long time. She hoped he wouldn’t ask for an exact number of years.

  “Where did you study?”

  All right, this one was easy. She’d gone back to university about five years before to keep her registration current. “Johns Hopkins.”

  Mason whistled. “Impressive.” He picked up his croissant and brought it to his lips. Eir watched him carefully, enjoying the way his tongue ran along his bottom lip before he took his
first bite—it was almost like he was savoring the flavor before he’d even had a taste.

  “All right, so I know you’re a nurse …” he said, placing the croissant back on his plate. Eir took the opportunity to take her first bite of the buttery pastry in front of her, suppressing a light moan as the rich flavor hit her tongue.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said.

  Eir swallowed her bite of croissant and met his steady gaze. “I had ten sisters, but …”

  Her hand curled into a fist, her fingernails digging into her palms to stop the tears from falling. She gasped when Mason placed his incredibly large, incredibly warm hand on hers.

  Drawing in a shuddered breath, she looked up at him. “But many of them have died, so there are only four now—five including me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mason’s thumb ran over the back of her knuckles, calming her down. “I can understand why you’re so sad,” he added.

  “H-how?” she stammered.

  He grimaced, pulling away before looking down at Sophie. The dog’s head lifted and cocked to the side. “Sophie knew,” he said. “She’s very good at sensing people’s emotions, but even better at sensing sadness.”

  He held Eir’s gaze, almost willing her to accept his answer. Eir took another sip of her latte.

  “What about you?” she asked to steer the conversation back on course. “Tell me about your family. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Mason suddenly got busy staring at the table. He cleared his throat, took a sip from his coffee and met her eyes. “I had a brother, but he passed away a little over ten years ago.”

  Eir reached over and touched his forearm, squeezing it gently. She could feel his pain hovering just below the surface, but she made sure she didn’t take it away. One slip-up had been enough.

  “I’m so sorry, Mason. Losing a sibling is hard no matter how long ago it happened.”

  Placing his other hand over hers, he said, “I know it’s stupid—he’s been dead so long—but sometimes …”

  He drifted off, lost in his own memories. Eir said, “You don’t have to talk about him, really. Not if you don’t want to.”

  As she removed her hand, she noticed the time. Was it really that late? She stood up abruptly, rattling the table and unsettling Sophie. “Oh, I’m sorry. I have to go.” Giving Mason an apologetic smile, she tucked her chair back under the table. “Thank you for breakfast. I’m sorry, but I have to be at work in half an hour.”

  “It’s no problem. It was nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” She bent at the knees to pat Sophie on the head. “It was nice to meet you, too.”

  As Eir left the cafe, she felt a sliver of weight from the emotional load she’d been carrying for a month lift from her shoulders.

  Chapter 9

  Taer dropped down into a defensive position, lowering herself closer to the floor. Korvain was standing about six feet away from her, his dark eyes traveling over her body, looking for an opening in her defense. Grasped lightly in his hand was a curved blade, his preferred weapon—a karambit.

  “I’m unarmed,” she told him uneasily, painfully aware of all the places he had already nicked her with the blade he was currently wielding. Blood covered nearly every inch of her bare skin, some wounds already healed and some weeping fresh crimson tears. Smatterings of red adorned the blue mats that had been set up to save cleaning up the floor of the Eye after their training.

  “I know.” Korvain’s reply was eerily calm and calculating.

  “Just take it easy on me, okay?” Taer muttered, not taking her eyes off the threat in front of her. Korvain was deathly still. Not even his massive chest moved; only his nostrils flared as he breathed in and out.

  “Darrion won’t be taking it easy on you, Taer, so I won’t be taking it easy on you.” Taer swallowed the lump in her throat as Korvain added, “I’m not going to try to cut you anymore, but if I do, you’ll heal.”

  Somehow that didn’t make her feel any better. Taer licked her lips. “All right, let’s do this.” She maintained her stance, keeping her center of gravity extremely low in hopes of countering the Mare’s coming attack.

  Korvain’s top lip curled off his fangs in a shit-eating grin and then he was nothing but a blur of movement. He began twirling the blade around, trying to draw her eyes to the weapon and away from his body, making it harder for her to anticipate what was coming. He came at her quickly, flipping the weapon across his palm. His arms—thickly corded with muscle—flew at her body, and Taer automatically brought her elbows up, shielding her neck and torso.

  As soon as she was in position, Korvain appeared to stop, then shifted his weight low to match hers and, with a feint one way to draw her defenses, secured one of her arms, and swept her feet out from beneath her, collapsing her to the floor. Taer was vulnerable now; she tried to protect herself, but he slapped her hands and elbows away, leaving her torso wide open. Within the space of a heartbeat, the tip of his blade was less than an inch away from her carotid.

  Taer was breathing hard, the adrenalin dump coursing through her blood like a freight train, and she shuddered.

  “Not bad, Taer,” Korvain said, dropping his arm and stepping back. “Not bad, but not good either. You need more practice.” With his finger threaded through the ring of his blade’s handle, he flipped the curved metal back around so she could see the light gleaming off the surface.

  “I’ve never done that before,” she spat out when she was sure her voice wouldn’t tremble, angry that Korvain was being so hard on her. She stood up shakily. “You could have killed me.”

  Adrian had been training her, but she only realized now that perhaps he hadn’t been the right person for the job. He had been too emotionally attached to her, his love for her blinding him, making him go easy on her. No, what Taer needed was someone who had no qualms about killing another living being. She needed someone who wouldn’t think twice about sinking the blade of a knife into someone’s heart.

  She needed Korvain.

  “I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to get a reaction out of you.”

  “I reacted out of instinct,” Taer replied, pacing the length of the blue mats, the disapproving tone of his voice infuriating her.

  “Instinct is only part of what you need when you’re fighting against a bladed opponent. You need to be able to read them. You need to be able to anticipate what they’re going to do.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that?” she spat back. “Tell me, how am I supposed to learn how to read someone and know what they’re going to do before they actually do it?”

  The muscles in Korvain’s jaw jumped. “Time, Taer. It takes time.”

  She stopped in front of him. “It’s been a month already, Korvain. How much longer is it going to take? We should have started the day after … after …” Adrian died. “We should have started as soon as I was healed.”

  Korvain’s eyes grew darker. “You weren’t ready to start training then, Taer. And from what I’ve seen, you aren’t ready for the training you need to fight Darrion now.”

  Taer was seething. From between clenched teeth, she said, “You promised me you’d help me kill Darrion.”

  “Kill Darrion, yes,” he said, “Not be killed by Darrion. There’s a big difference, Taer.” He shook his head. “You’re exhausted. I’ve been watching those circles under your eyes get bigger and darker. You’re hardly sleeping, or eating for that matter. You’re still grieving for your brother.” Korvain sighed. “Maybe we should put all the physical training on the backburner for now.”

  “Wait, what?” she sputtered. “You aren’t going to train me at all now?”

  He rounded on her, his anger making the shadows in the room shiver. “Did I say that?” he boomed. “I said we wouldn’t do the physical stuff. There’s so much more you have to learn if you want to get your revenge on Darrion.”

  Angrily, he rolled up the sparring mats and began to set out the tables and chairs that had bee
n stacked around the perimeter of the room while they were training. Taer watched him, her anger building from a simmer to a rolling boil.

  “Are you going to just stand there and watch me?” he snapped. “Bryn needs to open up the bar in less than hour, and I still need to bring Eir home from her shift at the hospital.”

  Taer glanced at the clock above the bar. It was already half past six. They’d been training for nearly eleven hours straight, and all the physical work was taking a toll on her body. She could feel that, but she wouldn’t ever admit it to Korvain. Wordlessly, she positioned the chairs around the tables Korvain placed around the room. Every breath she took helped to calm her, but she knew her anger would never fully leave her.

  Finally finished, Korvain shrugged into the jacket he’d brought down with him that morning and turned to leave. Before melting into the shadows, he paused and turned to Taer.

  “I know you can’t see it now, but I am helping you get your revenge, Taer.” She glared at him, refusing to be cowed by the hard glint of rage still there in his eyes. “I can’t stop you from looking for Darrion, but don’t do anything stupid, okay. It’s not just him we have to worry about. Odin is still out there, too, and you’ve got just as big a target painted on your back as any of the Valkyries.”

  Without waiting for her reply, Korvain stepped through the back door and into the closest shadow, fading away. Turning back around, Taer walked a few steps before she felt her knees buckle. She hit the ground, exhaustion rolling through her—a tsunami-sized wave that threatened to drag her under and never let her surface again. She was so goddamn tired, but she couldn’t rest, which left Taer with the only other acceptable option of hunting down potential leads on Darrion’s location.

  After finding a spare hoodie in the staffroom, she stepped out the back door and into the alleyway. The night was cold, a fine, misting rain falling, leaving small droplets glistening on every surface. Taer started walking, drawing the hood up to cover her head and face.

  She didn’t have any particular destination in mind, but when she dragged her attention off the slick concrete, she saw where her sleep-deprived brain and wandering feet had inadvertently taken her. She looked up at the brick facade of the War Hammer, quietly grinding her teeth together. She hadn’t wanted to go back there so soon. If Aubrey had any information for her yet, he would have showed up at the club.