He cared about her. How bloody stupid of him.
Mate. The word whispered through his mind once more. Had any other demon in history rejected the bond? He had no idea if it was even possible. The more time he spent with her, however, the less being tied to a human bothered him. The sight of her coming apart in his arms last night was seared into his memory.
His cock hardened at the direction of his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to sink into her warmth, mission be damned. No woman had ever consumed him in such a way. He was on shaky ground.
“Do you want to stop for lunch?” she asked, breaking him from his thoughts. “It would be faster to skip it and keep going. I want to get to Sarah’s tonight. But if you need a break we can stop.”
It was the most words she’d spoken to him all morning.
He thought of claiming a hunger he didn’t feel in order to get Darcy to stop and rest but the hunter was correct. Time was of the essence. If she could continue on without stopping, it would be wise to let her. “I’m fine,” he replied.
He returned his attention to the scenery racing past him. The snowy wonderland all looked much the same as it flashed by them.
The hair rising on his nape, however, was new.
Jaral scowled, looking closer. His body was tense, no longer enjoying the endless ride. Every instinct he had was roaring to life. Was he missing something? He scanned the world beyond his window. Something was out there, waiting.
He studied the open fields hugging the road before looking toward the cloudy gray sky.
There. Something lurked in those clouds.
“Stop the car,” he ordered.
“What?”
“Stop. Now.”
Without further protest Darcy did as he asked. He launched himself out of the vehicle as soon as it slowed.
Snow crunched under his feet as he walked into the field by the side of the road. No other drivers were on this stretch of pavement. At least there was a bit of luck in that. No reason to draw unsuspecting mortals into a fight.
“What is it?” Darcy demanded, running to his side. Her breath turned to vapor in the cold air, puffing around her worried face. He noted she had her daggers and felt a moment’s relief. If something was coming for them, he knew she could protect herself.
“Tell me what’s happening.”
He pointed toward the sky. “We’re about to have company.”
“Friends of yours?”
He shook his head. “Apparently someone has heard of our plan. I’d bet it’s not a popular one among the spirits.”
“We’ve got the car. Can’t we—”
He shook his head. “They will flip it with us inside. I doubt that is an attack you would survive.”
“Who is they?”
“Spirits, like my kin, come in all shapes and sizes. The ones hunting us use the air to hide from their prey.” A slight grin crossed his face. “I believe this breed may be responsible for your poltergeist myths.”
“Angry ghosts are coming for us?”
Snow blew up from the ground in a flurry to their right, cutting off his reply. In the white landscape the nearly transparent spirits were devilishly hard to see.
“Watch the ground,” Jaral instructed. He called his broadsword to him with his magic, and the weapon appeared in his hand.
Snow crunched and he lunged forward. His blade sliced through flesh, transparent though it might be. Black blood stained the ground as an unearthly cry erupted from the skewered spirit. More snow kicked up into the air as the body dropped to the ground. A faint distortion in the air showed where the spirit lay, hard to see but there all the same.
“I think understand this game,” Darcy said, scanning the area around them.
A puff of snow gave away another spirit’s location and Darcy darted forward with speed aided by the demon magic still circulating in her veins. Her daggers flashed as she engaged her prey.
Jaral watched for a moment to ensure her safety. The spirit was wily but Darcy held her own and managed to land an attack. It was a shallow cut but still enough to create a black stain hanging in the air before her. Using the blood to help her track her target’s location, Darcy rushed forward.
Good girl, he thought as he turned his attention back to the creatures no doubt surrounding him.
Flame leapt to his free hand and he cast the magic out. Fire blasted through the air but made no contact. Instead it melted the snow and created a blind spot.
“Damn,” he muttered. No more fire for him.
A tiny sound drew his attention before pain exploded from his shoulder. Something had raked him with sharp teeth. He spun low and attacked. Half of his blows swung through empty air but the rest made contact. Blood splattered the ground around him, giving him targets to fight.
Darcy dispatched her spirit and ran to help him. He saw her launch herself at one of the transparent creatures as he drove his blade through what he assumed was the stomach of another.
Indentations in the snow marked where bleeding bodies had fallen. Looked like they’d made their way through a fair number of their opponents.
Darcy slashed her blade through the air and was rewarded with a spray of blood. She stepped away from the fallen body before looking to him.
“Is that all of them?” she demanded.
He shook his head. Something was still out there or his instincts would have calmed. Turning, he scanned the snowy ground looking for any clues.
“You’re bleeding,” Darcy said.
“I’m fine.” No sooner had the words left him than he was knocked from his feet.
Jaral crashed to the earth, a heavy body riding him down. Claws stabbed into his shoulder, forcing a roar of pain from him.
“Jaral!”
The embedded claws might hold his arm immobile but it also trapped the spirit attacking him. With a vicious smile he slammed his good hand into the creature’s chest and unleashed his fire.
The thing started to burn even as Darcy drove her dagger into its back. Its death cry echoed across the still fields as the fire consumed it. The outline of a misshapen body showed right before the whole thing went up in a wild blaze.
Jaral grit his teeth and pulled the claws from his shoulder. Once free, he kicked the burning remains away from him and pressed his hand to the wound. Dark green blood pulsed from between his fingers. Pain radiated from his shoulder, making his right arm all but unless. He hoped this particular breed of spirit didn’t have any poison in their claws. As long as it was a standard injury he’d heal in time.
“Badass warrior demons aren’t supposed to get hurt,” Darcy scolded, yanking her scarf from her throat. She batted away his fingers to press it against the wound.
He tried to smile at her concern. “Even us demons have trouble fighting opponents we can’t see.”
“Are they gone?”
“Yes. We can continue.”
“Like hell. We need to get you patched up.” She helped him to his feet and together they stumbled over to the car. He wanted to tell her the wound would repair itself in a few hours but no one had worried about him in decades. He rather liked her flustered concern.
“Sit,” she ordered, pushing him into the passenger seat. “I’ve got first aid supplies.”
He waited for her to grab her kit from the trunk before she leapt into the car with him.
She cranked the heater and gestured to his shirt. “Off. We need to get you bandaged up.”
Following her instructions, he shrugged out of his clothes to let her see the gaping hole in his shoulder.
Darcy winced. “Do you need something for the pain?”
He arched a brow at the question, doubting she traveled with pills of any kind. “I’m fine.”
With efficient hands she cleaned the wound and started winding bandages around him. Jaral held still and let her do what she would. All the while he tried to remember the last time anyone had cared enough to bandage him. His body had taken far worse attacks than this, but he w
ould never have asked for help—a sign of weakness. None of his kin would ever have offered, either.
But Darcy didn’t wait for an invitation. She jumped right in, ready to help even if that aid was going to her enemy.
As she worked, she chewed on her bottom lip. The sight made him smile. It was a telltale sign he was beginning to recognize whenever she was worried.
Darcy looked up and caught him smiling at her.
“What?” she demanded.
Jaral shook his head, unable to explain. “Thank you,” he said instead, brushing her lips with a soft kiss.
She stilled, her hands pausing on his body.
Their kisses had always been heated. An illicit touch shared between enemies. But this time it was different. He kissed her not to inflame but to give comfort, to convey thanks.
He could feel her surprise and knew it was mirrored in him as well. Never before had he touched a woman with the care he used now.
Darcy drew back enough to meet his eyes. She’d hate her vulnerability if she knew how open her expression was at the moment. But he took advantage of the rare opportunity to study her. Her expression held genuine concern, far beyond what would be expected for a partner. She’d been scared for him and the knowledge humbled him.
He cupped her face between his hands, wanting more. The ever-present desire was visible in her bright eyes. And something else. Something far harder to name.
With a start he realized what it was. Hope.
And then it hit him with the force of a blow. This woman was his. His mate. His future.
She was the only creature in either of their worlds who cared if he was all right. She was the only one to look at the bastard prince of the demon court with hope in her gaze. Hope that he could be the man she wanted.
He remembered her flying at the spirit attacking him. One tiny human had tried to protect him as no one else in his life ever had. Darcy would fight to the death for those she loved, and she’d fought for him. How could he not fight for her?
If he lost her, none of the rest of it would matter. Not his father, not his position within the court. Darcy was what mattered. She was the one he needed.
How the hell was he going to survive this mess?
* * *
Darcy looked up at Jaral with wide eyes. Her breath was frozen. Never before had he looked at her with such a shell-shocked expression. She had no name for the emotions flying across his face but they made her heart race.
When she’d seen him go down in the field, panic had consumed her. Jaral could not be hurt. Not on her watch. Whatever sort of twisted relationship they had started, he was hers for this brief time and no one was going to harm him but her.
Unnerved by his inspection, she dropped her gaze back to his shoulder and finished winding the gauze around his wound.
“That should do it,” she said, her voice rough.
He inclined his head.
“Jaral,” she said, winding up the excess gauze. “What is going on?”
He glanced at her in question.
“Spirits attacking, your father popping up, a rift that should never exist…” She shook her head. Too many impossible things were happening, and after this latest attack she was tired of always being a step behind.
“Did Kerilyn cause this?” she asked, voicing her deepest fear. Surely a hunter would never have placed the world in such danger. “Did she do this on purpose?”
Jaral reached over to take her hand. He squeezed it in comfort. “Last Halloween your friend and my uncle fought Abaddon. My father killed Kerilyn before she and the spirit lord managed to send him back to the demon realm.”
“So she died.”
Jaral nodded. “But as you know, she didn’t stay dead. I have no idea how my uncle managed to transform her, but he pulled it off. A human spirit is a paradox the magic holding our worlds in balance couldn’t handle. It fractured when Kerilyn went back to the spirit realm.”
“If she’s alive, why isn’t she here fixing this mess? I know her. She wouldn’t sacrifice our world for the sake of her happily ever after.” At least, the woman Darcy thought she knew wouldn’t. Maybe this new half-spirit version of Kerilyn cared nothing for the world she’d once protected.
“I have no answers for you,” Jaral replied. “But it was Kerilyn’s transformation that created the rift and her blood that will close it. Focus on that.”
Darcy moved back to her own seat and started up the engine. Maybe this was the answer she’d been looking for. Kerilyn had been in the same position, caring for an enemy, and her decision to be with him now put the whole world at risk. Caring for Jaral was a childish dream. In reality, there was a reason the three realms were separated. They weren’t meant to cross the divide.
Darcy pulled back out onto the road, trying to focus on the task at hand. It wouldn’t do any good to think about a lonely future she might not even survive to see. But try as she might her thoughts kept circling back to Kerilyn’s betrayal and Jaral’s growing claim on her heart. When she saw him being attacked she’d never felt such fear or panic. She couldn’t lose him, not yet. Darcy knew she couldn’t afford to get attached but her reaction proved she cared, more than she’d even been aware of. How was she going to keep him at arm’s length after this?
“Talk to me,” she said. “I need a distraction.” Anything to stop thinking of about how badly she wanted Jaral to be hers.
He was silent for a long moment before speaking. When she heard his words she almost wished he’d kept them to himself. There was only so much a girl could take, after all.
“I don’t remember my mother,” he told her, his voice low. “If she ever wanted me, I never knew. Honestly, I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”
“Why are you telling me this?” She didn’t want to know secrets about his past. It was hard enough to stay strong against him without hearing information that would make him…human.
“I want you to know me.”
She glanced at him sharply.
“You are thinking of your friend and her betrayal. Pretty soon you will be wondering if I am destined to turn on you also. Am I wrong?”
She said nothing.
“So before you start undoing everything we worked toward last night, I want to tell you about my past. These are words I’ve never said to another soul.”
“Don’t say them now,” she whispered, knowing she was being cruel.
She heard a small, self-deprecating chuckle and wished she could see his expression.
“Impossible,” he told her.
When she didn’t protest again he continued. “In my world, only the strong survive. My father had many sons and we were not all necessary. I remember when my little brother was ripped from my arms and taken to the king. He never returned.”
“Why?”
“Those whose magic was frail were not tolerated in the palace. Many of my siblings were destroyed for showing weakness.”
“You were just children.”
“When you have royal blood you are never a child. Everything is a game of wits. If you fail, you die.”
“But you survived.”
“I learned to play well. I was strong when I needed to be and careful with my powers. Those who challenged the king fared as well as those too weak to do so. I had to walk a fine line.”
“Sounds rough,” she murmured.
“And lonely.”
She dared a quick glance away from the road to catch him staring at her. As she turned her concentration back to driving, she wished they were having this conversation when her attention did not have to be divided.
“I thought I was in love once,” he continued. “She was beautiful and, unfortunately, far too clever for her own good. She fooled me for nearly a decade before I learned she was a spy for my father.”
“What did you do?”
Silence met her naïve question.
“Right. People who betray you don’t fare well.”
“Except you,” he sighed. �
�You I followed across the country without a second thought.”
A curious warmth spiraled through her at his words.
“You had a hard life.”
“No worse than yours.”
She snorted in derision. “I didn’t have to navigate court politics. Besides, I had a man who loved me and took care of me. My sob story doesn’t compare.”
“Blake is fortunate to have you in his life.”
She was silent for a moment, concentrating on the road. “No,” she whispered. “He’d be far better off if he’d never met my mom.”
She noted movement out of the corner of her eye as he shifted towards her.
“He loved her.”
“Some love. Caring for my mother nearly destroyed him. It dragged him into her crazy world where his compassion was used against him again and again. What happened to him…I will never let that happen to me. That kind of cruel, vicious love is the only model I’ve ever seen.”
“There are other kinds.” The words were soft, so quiet she barely heard them.
Other kinds. She glanced at him, wishing she could believe. Logically she knew not every relationship ended in disaster but all she’d ever seen of marriage was pain and disappointment.
“You know what Blake would say to my mother?”
Jaral stayed silent.
“‘I love you,’” she recited. “‘Forever and always.’” Darcy shook her head at the memory. “I must have heard those words a thousand times. And he meant it. Forever and always. I never understood how you could feel that way about another person. My mother was difficult but still he stood by her. He loved her until her last day, no matter what sins she committed against him. I can’t conceive of caring for someone so completely that you never think about walking away.”
“In my world,” he said after a moment, “no one would make a promise like that. Forever is a long time and love is fleeting. Affection, compassion—they are liabilities in my world. Caring for someone gets you dead very, very fast.”
“Why would you want to stay in a place like that?”
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