Courting Darkness

by Melynda Price

  His pain consumed her like an inferno. She’d been so fixated on her own grief, she’d barely stopped to consider what he must have been going through—until now. And at this moment, the desire to heal him overwhelmed her. Reaching out, she took his wrists and pulled his hands up to her cheeks. Slowly, she drew them down her neck, past the rapid tick of her carotids beating against the brushing caress of his thumbs. “You can still feel me,” she whispered. “I’m right here.” This wasn’t the “feeling” he was referring to, but this was all she had to offer him. And although the details of their relationship continued to evade her, her love for him did not fail. As she dragged his hands lower, over the swells of her breasts, she said softly, “You can give me new memories, Liam, and I can’t think of a better one to start with.”

  A possessive growl tore from his throat as he gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Before the cotton hit the floor, she was in his arms and beneath the heated crush of his nearly naked body.

  Casting away all doubt, she trusted her heart and trusted her body to this amazing male who’d saved her life, rescued her from Haden, and no doubt sacrificed everything he had, everything he was, for her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  He’d returned to make sure she was safe, fully expecting her to have no idea who in the hell he was. But she knew. She knew exactly who he was and what he’d done to her. Actions that couldn’t be undone—mistakes that couldn’t be unmade, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t about to make another. Not that he cared anymore. The only thing that mattered right now was this female lying beneath him, offering him a gift he’d never expected to receive—her body and her soul, and damn if he didn’t want to claim them both.

  Months of solitary had given him more than enough time for reflection. And the one thought that had kept him from going bat-shit crazy all this time was the belief that Olivia was better off now—better off without him. He’d found his consolation in the belief that he was suffering alone. She didn’t remember him, so therefore, how could she love him? Even now he was having trouble reconciling the possibility. He’d obviously misjudged the depth of her affection, and the strength and power of her mind, because she should have no nocturnal recognition of him whatsoever.

  He was not so arrogant, so self-actualized, as to consider the possibility that if he’d been severely wrong about this, then what else might he have been wrong about? Of all the scenarios he’d been prepared to walk into today, this one had not even crossed his mind. And yet here he was, in the one place he never expected to be, with the one woman he wanted nothing more than to be with.

  She felt more amazing than he remembered, her delicate body pressed so intimately beneath his—her heart beating wildly against his chest, echoing counterpoint the strong crash of his own. She held onto him like a lifeline, arms wrapped around his sides. Her splayed fingers gripped his shoulders and her fingertips pulled him closer, blunt nails biting into his flesh with torturous abandon.

  The need to claim her for his own—once and for all—overwhelmed him to the point of madness. An inhuman growl rumbled in his throat as he unfastened her jeans and shoved them past her hips. She kicked the denim free and let go of him long enough to unfasten the clasp of her bra. As the black lace fell loose, he grabbed the binding material separating him from her rose-tipped breasts and tossed it aside.

  As his hand captured the soft swell, his mouth descending to taste the sweet peak he thought never to savor again, a throaty moan escaped her lips. Her vanilla-jasmine scent flooded his senses, every nerve—every impulse—coming online as his soul stirred, searching for her and finding nothing but the severed connection that left him broken. The need to reconnect to her burned like a fire in his veins. Frustration spiked his short-fused temper, fueling the recklessness that had claimed his spirit, consuming him since he’d lost her. There wasn’t any length he wouldn’t go to, any boundary he wouldn’t cross, to have her back—to feel connected to her once again.

  Desperation drove him beyond the point of slow, ardent kisses and gentle, teasing touches. He needed her—now.

  Olivia must have sensed the carnal lust stirring within him, her kiss growing more demanding with each passing second as her hands worked feverously to unfasten his jeans. She touched him like she owned him. There was nothing tentative or shy about this woman beneath him—his woman.

  As she freed him from his denim prison, she took hold of him—touching, exploring, groping. It took every ounce of his self-control to remain still and give her this time to get reacquainted with his body.

  Blissful torture…

  He planted his fists into the mattress beside her to bear the brunt of his weight. Every muscle in his quivering body was strung ripcord tight, his desire snapping at the leash of his barely contained restraint. Her mouth left his to taste his neck—nipping, sucking...

  A tortured groan rasped in his throat as his control slipped. Grabbing her hands, he pulled them above her head, holding her wrists in a gentle, but firm grip. His mouth claimed hers in one last, searing kiss as he shifted his hips, seating himself at the point of no return. Her pulse spiked, her breath quickening in anticipation.

  Lifting his head, his gaze locked on hers. “Are you certain, Olivia? It’s not too late to change your mind. If you do this—if we do this—we will be entering a binding covenant,” he rasped with a throat that felt like broken glass.

  If he’d seen even a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, he might have found the strength to stop. Then again, he might have taken her, anyway. She was his. The blood covenant was only a formality. But once he spilt her virgin’s blood, there would be no going back—ever. How many times had he imagined this moment, dreamed of taking her, but their bond prevented it. It was a sacrifice he’d been willing to make then—not anymore.

  “I’m sure,” she whispered. Taking his face in her hands, she lifted her head to seal the deal with a kiss—a kiss that became a sharp, startled gasp as he thrust forward, seating himself against her core.

  Her fingers slipped into his hair, nails scoring his scalp as she gripped him tightly. He froze—sheer will keeping him still as he waited for her body to grow accustomed to his—each second feeling like an eternity of agonizing bliss. All the while, he whispered adorations of love and fervent apologies against her lips as he promised between kisses that he’d never hurt her again.

  As her virgin’s pain began to ease, her body slowly relaxed beneath him. He drew back, a tentative movement that pulled another gasp from her parted lips, except this time her exhale was a breathy moan that nearly undid his iron-clad will.

  Her hands untangled from his hair, sliding down his back. By the time they reached the base of his spine, her kisses had grown hot—demanding. She tugged him forward, the friction lighting a spark in his blood that quickly consumed him. As his tempo increased, his muscles grew tighter, tension coiling in the base of his spine.

  It was the most selfish thing he’d ever done, but heartache and desire drove him past the point of reason. Taking the offered gift of this female beneath him, he swiftly drove them both toward a release that would forever bind her to him. Not in the way they’d once been bonded—fuck, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t give up to have that back. But it wasn’t possible—that bond was forever severed, but tonight, in its place, they birthed a new, more intimate connection. Not once had he considered withholding his seed—to spill outside of her would be the ultimate dishonor. To take her body and not give his own in return…

  With full knowledge of the irrevocable path this night could put them on, as the first tremors of Olivia’s climax gripped him, Liam gave himself over to his own release and joined the woman he longed for—body, mind and soul.

  You will be my husband… The words echoed in Haden’s mind throughout the night, robbing him of sleep. Glancing over at the silhouette behind the curtain, he shook his head in disbelief, blaming his insomnia on the crazy woman’s revelation, because it certainly couldn’t be the dar
k-haired beauty across the room keeping him from the much needed rest his body required to recuperate from the arduous journey to South Africa.

  He wanted to wake her, wanted to ask her why in the hell would she be so stupid as to invite a killer into her home—her killer. But then, maybe that was her plan all along. Turn the hunter into the protector… It’d worked so far. Haden knew damn well if a demon busted through her door right now, he would take the bastard out, and not because she was his mark.

  Perhaps it was her fearlessness that intrigued him so. Husband… Fuck, he wasn’t husband material. He was a ruthless killer—hunting the Sighted since as far back as he could remember. So why not just do her? She was a job—nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t have to make it hurt. That was just for fun.

  He exhaled a heavy sigh as he sat up on the pelts Anya laid out for him beside the fire. Again, his gaze drew back to his prey. The candle behind her curtain lit the outline of her slender form, from the generous swell of her breasts to the gentle flare of her hips, the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest confirming she slept peacefully.

  It would be easy enough to finish what he’d come here to do. Then he could return to his sullen existence until the Dark Court once again demanded his service—demanded the use of his unique talent—the ability to detect and hunt the Sighted. He’d never lost a target—one-hundred percent accurate, one-hundred percent lethal killer. So then what the fuck was his problem? Why did the thought of driving his blade into this woman’s heart make him feel like his own was about to explode?

  “Can’t sleep?”

  Her honey-sweet voice startled him from his dismal thoughts. He’d have sworn she was asleep. He hadn’t made any noise, and there was no way she could see him through the curtain with those candles flickering beside her.

  “Did I wake you?”

  She rolled to her side and faced him, propping her head on her hand. “No. I couldn’t sleep, either. What are you thinking about, Haden?”

  “You sure are a precocious little thing, aren’t you? You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

  She shrugged at his admonishment and sat up on her mat. “Who said I don’t?”

  “Trust me—you don’t want to pick this brain.”

  Anya stood, grabbed a wrap from beside her pallet, and swung it over her shoulders as she stepped from behind the flimsy barrier. Wordlessly, she walked over to him and stopped beside the blanket of furs. After studying him a moment, she seemed to decide on something and held out her hand. “Come with me.”

  Reflexively, he reached up and took her hand, not stopping to consider the wisdom in touching her, or lack thereof as it were. She tugged him to his feet, curiosity and intrigue keeping them moving as she led him to the door. “It’s dark out there, Anya—”

  His breath caught in his throat at her airy, feminine giggle. She turned back to look at him, her fall of raven hair tumbling over her shoulder as she glanced up with eyes the color of dark chocolate. Arching a delicate brow, she grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

  Despite himself, his top lip curled. You could call it a smile if that was something he ever did. The stretch of muscles around his mouth felt foreign, and he almost resisted the impulse until she returned the gesture, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

  “Come on.”

  She opened the door and led him out into the darkness. For all he knew, it was a trap. There could be a village of men with bone spears waiting for him when they reached their destination. Not that he cared. What could they do to him?

  “You come out this far by yourself?” he asked, his voice more gruff than he intended.

  The new moon offered no light in the midnight sky. Were it not for Haden’s preternatural sight, he wouldn’t be able to see a thing. That Anya could navigate the night with her human eyes told him one of two things: either she was Sighted beyond her multi-dimensional ability, or the woman came out here often enough that she could walk this path blind.

  Anya gave him another negligent shrug she could not know he saw. “Sometimes.”

  Why did the thought of her out here, alone in the night, bother him so? Why did he care? The rational, methodical side of him said this was asinine. He should kill her and go—just turn off whatever remnant of humanity that lingered in his black soul and do the job he’d come here to do.

  Easier said than done with the female’s fingers laced between his as she led him down a narrow path to God knows where. As he followed, her small hand tucked trustingly in his. The thought occurred to him that in these few short hours, he’d had more physical contact with this woman than any other in the last century. It felt good. She felt good.

  “You really think this is wise?—bringing a stranger out here. You don’t even know me.” Perhaps he was trying to scare some sense into her. Maybe he was trying to give them both a reality check, but whatever the reason, she wasn’t having any of it.

  “I know all that I need to know.”

  Haden couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman that didn’t fear him. Even the occasional whores he’d take to his bed came to him with trepidation. It was almost as if female intuition could sense the predator in him. The darkness…

  It was something he’d come to expect, but the calm, assured confidence Anya exuded threw him off his game—put him on edge. “Which is what, exactly?”

  “I already told you, Haden. You won’t hurt me.”

  The way his name rolled off her tongue…intimate, like a lover’s caress, touched his heart in a way he didn’t welcome. It stirred another part of his anatomy that sure as hell wasn’t getting a vote on how he planned to deal with this Anya situation. “Just because you want something to be true, doesn’t make it so,” he grumbled with more crass than intended.

  “Just because you don’t believe in something, doesn’t make it untrue,” she countered.

  Haden stopped abruptly, his grip on Anya’s hand tightening to prevent her escape as he gave a sharp enough tug to send her back a few steps. She quickly regained her footing and turned to look at him, her delicate brow arched in question.

  Exactly how much of him could she see in the darkness? Could she discern the furrow of his brows? Would she misinterpret his self-loathing for anger? Could she see the hard set of his jaw as he ground his teeth in frustration, torn between his duty to the Dark Court and his desire to take this stunning, trusting, foolish woman into his arms and give her the reality check that would surly usher in that all too familiar bitter almond scent of fear?

  “Haden? What’s—”

  He didn’t give her a chance to finish speaking. Steeling himself against the inevitable blast of terror, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. His mouth descended, claiming her in a brutal kiss that boldly, violently took hers. His tongue skillfully tasted her rich sweetness, and when she let out a startled gasp, a self-satisfied grin tugged at his lips.

  See…it was only a matter of time. They always feared him.

  As Haden dragged a ragged breath into his lungs, he waited for that biting scent to sting his nostrils. He tightened the cage of his arms, expecting the female to begin struggling—waiting in almost sadistic glee to prove her wrong.

  She would shove him away. The sweetness of her mouth would turn bitter as the rush of adrenaline flooded her veins, kicking her fight or flight into action. And he would then know this woman was just like all the others.

  Her breasts pressed against his chest as she drew a breath deep into her lungs, preparing to scream. His body tensed in anticipation, waiting for the shrill blast that would ring his overly-acute hearing…

  But when she exhaled, the only sound that escaped the petite female was a throaty moan. Then her tongue swept past his, returning his kiss as she maneuvered her arms free to entwine them around his neck. The succulent scent of rosehips saturated the air. There was no bitterness…no struggling—only the ardent return of a kiss that sent a rush of desire
flooding through his veins.

  His body instantly hardened with need. It had been so long since he’d found release in a woman, and never before had he held one that wanted him with the same fiery passion that fueled his blood right now. His control was slipping. His plan backfiring. If they didn’t stop now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from taking her right here on the well-worn dirt path.

  He briefly wondered if the female would have any objection. Were it not a matter of safety, he’d be highly tempted to find out, but he was not about to drop his guard or his pants out here in the open, and in a foreign land.

  Anya’s fingers wound into his hair, tugging him closer when he tried to lift his head. This was not going down like he’d anticipated—not at all. He needed a moment to think. A moment to clear his head before he did something stupid that got them both killed.

  Reaching up, he untangled her fingers from his hair. “Anya, we have to stop,” he whispered against her lips.

  The female’s mouth grew still against his. Pulling back, she asked, “Who’s Anya?”

  Jerking the female’s arms loose from his neck, Haden’s head snapped up, eyes locking on an emerald stare. “Fuck!” he snarled, shoving Olivia away.

  Haden’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright in bed. His oath morphed into a growl as his senses came online, reality swiftly racing up to kick him in the balls. Contempt churned in his gut for the female who’d somehow managed to invade his dreams. They were the only place he still had Anya, the only place that was theirs, untouched and undefiled—until now. He was well aware of the vast difference between love and lust, and he most definitely was not in love with Olivia.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself that, asshole.

  Releasing a shaky breath, he dragged his hand through his hair and flopped back on the pillow. The rattling hum of the window unit kicked on, stirring the air over his sweat-dampened skin like a lover’s caress. Goose bumps prickled over his naked flesh, carnal need coiling hard in his gut.