The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  “I do.” She nodded, looking up at him with regret and curiosity. “The wolves are being hunted, Your Grace,” she said, wondering if anyone could ever snare Devil, was there a heart bold enough, or foolish enough, in the entire world to even make the attempt? “Perhaps you should have a care, chéri?” she whispered, reaching out and placing one hand on his chest.

  Devil threw back his head and laughed, silver eyes glittering with genuine amusement. “I’m not sure I was ever truly a wolf ...” he said, his voice soft and moving over her skin like the finest silk. She shivered.

  “Non, perhaps not a wolf,” she said, her voice low as she looked up at him, her head tilted a little to one side. “A shark is perhaps more apt?” She stared at him, a measuring glance that he returned, unblinking. Her eyes lingered on his mouth and she reached up, touching his lower lip with one fingertip.

  “Perhaps,” he replied, his words shivering over her skin as though his hands were already upon her. “You may remember … I do have very sharp teeth.” He nipped at her finger, drawing blood as he caught the skin between his teeth and bit.

  Inés gasped, her heart kicking in her chest. “I remember,” she whispered.

  She saw the promise of wickedness glittering in his eyes and her breath caught in her throat as he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist, drawing her hand back to his lips. Never dropping his gaze, he drew one finger into his mouth and sucked, his tongue moving over her skin as magic erupted around them. The colours danced and swirled as the sweet smell of their power lingered on the air around them, heady and seductive.

  He released her hand and put his hand in her hair, tangling the fingers in the thick tresses and twisting, pulling her head back until she cried out. “Do you want to dance with the devil, my wicked witch?” he asked, the words harsh as he tugged a little harder.

  “Oh, oui,” she breathed, staring at him as longing surged beneath her skin like a tidal wave. “Without a doubt.”

  ***

  “Bram?” Ameena brushed the hair away from his eyes and stroked his cheek. “Bram?”

  He stirred, restless, and she watched as those deep brown eyes flickered open to see her watching him.

  “Ameena!” he said as he came fully awake, pushing himself upright. “Are you alright?” he demanded. “Is anything the matter?” He reached out for her hand, looking at her with such concern in his eyes than she felt a lump in her throat.

  “I’m fine.” She tried to smile at him, but her eyes filled with tears and spilled over. Before she could wipe them away or speak another word, she found herself swept up and held tight against him, his arms around her, one hand stroking her hair.

  “Please forgive me, Ameena,” he said, his voice distraught. “Please, I’m begging you. I know it was my fault and I know I have been unkind to you, unfair … I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean what I said ...” The words tumbled out in a rush and he didn’t give her a chance to answer, his apology open-hearted and so sincere that she only cried harder. Once he had had run out of ways to say how desperately sorry he was, she thought maybe her chance had come, but then he pressed his lips against hers and she couldn’t think of a single thing she wanted to say badly enough to stop him. He drew away from her at last, leaving her breathless and startled, those expressive brown eyes looking at her, wary and hopeful.

  Ameena blinked, looking back at him and wishing she could think of something sensible to say, something meaningful. “Um,” she mumbled. “There’s a bed in there.” Giving a vague nod in the direction of her bedroom, she swallowed, blushing, and then dropped her gaze as she realised that was probably the wrong thing to say to him. He’d probably think her a slut for even considering the idea. “I mean … I’m just saying ...”

  She dared to glance up to find him smiling at her. Her heart felt strange all at once, light and fragile and as though it was turning cartwheels in her chest. Taking a chance, she put one hand to each side of his face, her eyes intent upon his. “I’m so sorry for … for Devil...”

  He put a finger to her lips and shook his head. “Not your fault. Let’s not speak of it.” A smile quirked over his mouth. “In fact, I think perhaps it’s safest if we don’t speak at all.” He illustrated his intention by kissing her again, slow and lingering. It seemed to have the opposite effect on her heart, though, as the slower he kissed her, the faster it raced. His arms pulled her closer and she wriggled against him, wanting to be closer still. The floor really wasn’t comfortable. He broke away, breathless. “Did you mention something about a bed?”

  Ameena nodded, breathing hard herself, and then squealed as she was pulled to her feet and swung unceremoniously over one broad shoulder. He kicked the door open and then shut again before flinging her down on the bed. A giggle escaped her as he clambered onto the bed, as he looked like a marauding pirate even in his fine suit, but before she could voice her observation, he clapped a hand over her mouth. She made a small noise of protest but he shook his head.

  “My darling girl,” he said, his voice warm and full of amusement. “I want so badly to make love to you, and I would really like to make it through this night without feeling the sharp edge of your tongue cursing me, or anything else that comes to hand beating me around the head. So I really think it is safer if you keep your mouth shut.” He paused, frowning and pursing his lips. “Actually, I take that back. Just … don’t say words. Agreed?”

  He gave her an enquiring look and she snorted, nodding her approval.

  With a sigh of relief, he settled himself on the bed beside her and removed his hand, replacing it with his mouth. He kissed her again, gently at first, his lips so soft and warm and inviting, and then with growing desire. His hands fell to her thigh, pulling one leg up over his hips and she moved against him, restless and needful. Ameena sighed, shivering with pleasure as her hands slid into his thick, warm hair, her kisses more frantic with every second. With more speed and skill than she might have expected, he divested her of her clothes, somehow making her feel cherished as well as desired. The look in her eyes reminded her this was not simple lust, not just a man taking what he wanted with the intention of moving on. This was Bram. Bram, who was too serious and too silly and utterly sincere. He was safe. She was safe, with him.

  He removed her bra and she shivered as his coarse hands roamed over her. She watched the fire growing in his eyes as her own desire licked at her veins, and reached forward, snatching at his shirt and wrestling his clothes from him with far less finesse until an untidy heap was settled at the side of her bed.

  Ameena kissed the scar that had become a souvenir of their first meeting, lifting her head to smile at him and seeing such adoration in his eyes that she found it hard to believe. Hard, but not impossible.

  They kept their promise and didn’t speak, nothing coherent, at any rate, just a language comprised of soft murmurings and encouraging noises. Their cries were heard by the king’s wolves, who joined their own voices to the strange ecstatic song and lifted their faces to the moon.

  ***

  Corin closed his bedroom door as quietly as he could and gave a sigh of relief. Turning, he looked around and found to his surprise that Claudette was still awake, and sitting up in bed.

  “Are you alright, mon loup?” she asked, her voice full of concern as she saw the look on his face.

  He smiled at her and walked to the bed, sitting down and taking her hand in his, raising it to his mouth. He kissed her palm, pleased at the way she sighed at his touch. “I am now.”

  Giving a contented little murmur, she relaxed further as he began to kiss his way up her arm. “Where have you been all this time?” she asked as he found her neck.

  “Being a good Samaritan,” he said against her skin, making her shiver. “If you can believe such a thing?”

  “Of course I believe it,” she said, and then squealed as his cool hands found their way under the bed sheets and he nipped at her ear. “Your hands are cold,” she complained with a giggle.

  “On
ly because you are so deliciously warm under there,” he whispered as his lips moved to find hers. She caught her breath as his hands began to explore, and then, to his chagrin, she shook her head.

  “Wait, Corin,” she said, sounding apologetic. “I want to, but ...”

  He moved away a little and raised his eyebrows. “But?” he repeated, rather incredulous.

  “Oh.” Claudette flushed, looking mortified. “I’m so sorry, but … I’m just not feeling very well.” Frowning and looking puzzled, she sighed as guilt bloomed in his chest. Gods, but he was a bastard. “Maybe it was something I ate?” she continued, making him feel worse than ever because she felt bad for turning his attentions away. “I just keep feeling queasy and...” Claudette shrugged, looking sheepish. “But maybe if you could use your magic to heal me?” She waggled her fingers at him with a grin before looping her arms around his neck. “Maybe then I will feel more like staying awake with you,” she added, her voice low and seductive.

  Corin’s heart was thudding in his chest. “I can try,” he said, knowing he had to tell her. It was just so late and she was tired, and he wasn’t at all sure it was the best time, but he couldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t look her in the eyes and make out that he didn’t know.

  He took her hands and sent his magic into her, hearing her sigh with pleasure as the warmth of it caressed her skin. Closing his eyes, he sensed the tiny life growing inside of her. It was strong and healthy, and Corin felt like his heart would burst at the rush of love and the desperate need to protect the both of them that overcame him.

  He opened his eyes to see Claudette staring at him, looking puzzled. “It didn’t work,” she said in surprise. He had relieved her of a number of headaches and minor aches since they’d been together, so she knew how well it worked as a rule. But not this time.

  He nodded, feeling his heart thud hard in his chest. “I know, ma belle.” She looked alarmed and he squeezed her hands. “Darling, it didn’t work because you are not really sick.”

  “Are you saying I’m making it up?” she said, looking indignant.

  “No! Of course not. Oh, gods, Claudette.” He held onto her hands, holding them tight, as much for his own comfort as to reassure her. “Darling, you do know that I would never do anything to make you unhappy?” he said, praying she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “You know that I would never want to do anything against your will. You do believe that, don’t you?”

  She swallowed and he saw the alarm growing in her eyes. “Yes, I know that, of course I do, but … but why? Corin, you’re starting to scare me.”

  Corin took a breath and prayed to the gods that his life was not about to implode. “The reason you feel the way you do,” he began, hearing his heart beating in his ears as panic rose in his chest. “The reason I cannot heal you … is … is because you are going to have a baby. You are pregnant with my child.”

  He watched for her reaction, hardly daring to breath.

  She gave a nervous laugh and shook her head, disbelieving. “N-no. You said … you told me it wasn’t possible. You said I would only get pregnant if you wanted me to be pregnant, if you made it happen!” There was no little accusation in her eyes, and he could not hide from it.

  “Yes, ma belle, that is true.”

  Her eyes grew wide and he saw her already pale face drain of any remaining colour. “You did this on purpose?” she said, her voice faint.

  “No, Claudette!” He put his hands to her face, forcing her to look at him, to look into his eyes and see that he was telling her the truth. “I would never do that, I swear it,” he said, his voice fierce now. “Ma belle, you remember the night before the Field of Kings? You saved me, Claudette, you brought me back, but darling, I was so very lost.”

  “That’s when it happened?’ she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. He nodded, praying for her to understand that he had not been in his right mind. “Oh.” She nodded as though she understood, but her expression was so stunned that he wasn’t sure she did at all. “I see.”

  She was silent, staring into space, and he felt panic begin to steal over him. What if she was so angry that she never forgave him?

  “Ma belle?” She didn’t turn at the sound of his voice, didn’t look at him. Corin sat closer to her, pulling her into his arms and holding her against him. “Ma belle, I am so dreadfully sorry. I never want to do anything to make you unhappy, and I know that you feel you are not ready for this, but you are not alone. There is nothing to fear, I promise you. Anaïs will be able to make you something to help with the sickness and you will have as much help as you need or want, and … and I will be with you, Claudette, I will help you, too.” She nodded, still silent, and his fears seemed to grow as the quiet of the room pressed down on him. Corin hesitated, almost afraid to ask. “Are … are you very angry with me?”

  She looked up at him as though she’d forgotten he was there at all, and after a moment, she shook her head. “No. I’m not angry,” she said, and it was far worse than anger when he heard the resigned tone of her voice. “I thought I would lose you that night. I was so very afraid … so if this is the price.” She gave a little shrug and Corin felt the tightness around his chest ease a little.

  “You are not happy, though?” he said, realising how dreadfully sad that made him.

  He felt her shrug again. “I’m shocked, Corin. I … I guess I’ll get used to the idea.” She touched her hand to his face, her eyes searching his now. “You are happy, though, mon loup? Oui?”

  He nodded, quite unable to hide it, though it was coloured by his regret at having forced this upon her. “Forgive me, ma belle, but yes … yes, I am happy about the child, so very happy.” He clung to her and buried his face in her hair. “Please forgive me, darling.”

  She put her arms around him, holding him tight. “There’s nothing to forgive, Corin. It wasn’t your fault.” They were the words he had hoped so desperately to hear and yet she sounded so very lost that he was consumed with guilt for what he had done. She put her hands to either side of his face and kissed him. It was just a soft brush of her lips, and when she pulled back, her eyes were full of love for him, and forgiveness. “It’s your child, mon loup, how could I not love it when I love you so very much?”

  “Je t’aime, ma belle,” he said, his heart so full for her and the child she carried that he wondered how his chest could contain it. “Je t’aime toujours.”

  “Always?” she asked, and he could see the worry in her eyes.

  “Toujours.” He nodded, looking at her, returning her gaze, certain of this much, at least. “Always.”

  Claudette smiled at him, but he felt sure she was hiding her feelings for fear of hurting him. She had forgiven him, perhaps, but she would not share with him the truth of just how upset and frightened she truly was.

  “Corin, would you mind very much, but … but I would like a bit of time on my own. Just to get used to the idea.” She looked up at him, smiling, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you mind?”

  His heart sank, but he nodded and kissed her, he could hardly refuse, no matter that he had spent the whole evening longing to curl up and sleep beside her. “Of course, ma belle, whatever you need, but … but just for tonight?” he asked, quite unable to keep the anxiety from his voice.

  She nodded, laughing a little. “As if you think I could stand more than one night without you,” she teased, and though he felt it was half-hearted, he appreciated the effort.

  Corin kissed her again and left her to sleep, shutting the door behind him. He began to walk away, but paused halfway across the room. Creeping back to the door, he waited and listened, and to his dismay heard her distress as she begin to cry.

  Chapter 42

  Ameena sighed. Her bones were heavy, as though they could sink into the depths of the mattress and never move again. Smiling was an effort, but her mouth curved nonetheless as she realised she had never really understood the meaning of the word sated, not until now. She was delicious
ly tired, warm, and content. If she had been a cat, she would be purring, loudly.

  She opened her eyes to see Bram, propped up on one elbow beside her, smiling at her. He looked pretty happy himself, and smug. He saw her watching him and the smile became a grin. Yes, certainly smug. She chuckled, but she wasn’t about to complain, he’d earned it. Bram leaned forward and kissed her, and she sighed again as he let her go.

  “Happy?” he asked, his dark eyes sparkling with pleasure.

  She nodded. “Very,” she murmured. “Though I didn’t think I was allowed to speak.”

  She felt a rumble of laughter vibrate through the mattress. “Well, I suppose I have to let you sooner or later.”

  Ameena snorted and allowed him to pull her into his arms, finding herself quite contented to snuggle into him.

  “Besides,” he added, a sly edge to his voice. “At least I know how to shut you up now.”

  She laughed and looked up at him, finding her heart expand at the look of those beautiful brown eyes, twinkling with mischief. “That you do,” she agreed.

  They lay together for a while, just enjoying being warm and together, and content. But Ameena had questions to ask, concerns for him, and though she was afraid he might take it badly, she couldn’t be a coward and pretend she didn’t need to know. That was no basis for a relationship. If they were going to work things out together, and she really, really wanted it to work, well, then they needed to find a way to communicate without murdering each other. They couldn’t spend the rest of their lives in bed, after all, no matter how appealing an idea it might be.

  “Bram?” Ameena trailed her fingers over his chest, drawing patterns back and forth that made him shiver.

  “Hmmmm.”

  “Tell me about Leola.”

  He stilled and she bit her lip, hoping he wasn’t about to freak out.