Crave the Darkness (6 page)

“This should be interesting,” Raif whispered in my ear. “Liam has an axe to grind with Myles.”

“Over what?”

“What else.” Raif shrugged. “A woman.”

Wasn’t it always? If they couldn’t put their petty bullshit aside for a couple of minutes, I didn’t think I wanted either of them. Liam looked like he wasn’t worried about the outcome of the sparring exhibition. In fact, his sheer size and hulking muscle coupled with the bored expression on his face would have sealed the deal for any odds maker.

But my money was on Myles.

In the course of my life, I’d learned it was the unassuming ones you had to watch out for. And those shrewd, calculating cat eyes didn’t miss a thing. Myles observed every minute shift of Liam’s weight with an intensity that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Myles was deadly. Myles was a killer. And I would know.

Liam circled Myles, his arms like tree trunks swinging with every step. Myles smiled, inviting the challenge, twirling the
bokken
once, and then again. He lunged forward, jabbing with a quick, well-maneuvered extension and Liam jumped back, surprising me with the deftness of motion. Their battle dance continued: lunges, reactions, and still Liam circled his prey. No words passed between them, not the cocky, self-absorbed bragging that accompanies an approaching fight. These guys were dead serious. This wasn’t a game to them. It was personal.

Raif shook his head in disgust, apparently rethinking his decision to let them air out their differences on the mats. He took a step forward, and I threw out my arm, stopping him. “You said Liam had an axe to grind. Let him do it.”

“Perhaps this isn’t the place,” Raif said.

“If they don’t do it here, they’ll go somewhere else to settle the score. And believe me, if they take the fight out of this gym, one of them isn’t going to walk away from it.”

Raif relaxed, but I knew he wasn’t happy. He was all about control and in the blink of an eye, his carefully orchestrated demonstration had turned into a full-on grudge match. At least here, under supervision, we could make sure both parties lived to fight another day. And in my opinion, letting the testosterone run its course was the best and only option.

Myles lunged again, this time with an upward cut, and rather than jump out of the way, Liam parried the thrust with his arm. The
bokken
cracked as it made contact and I couldn’t help but wince. Liam’s arm had to have hurt like a bitch, but he didn’t even flinch. I had to give it to him, the guy was tough.

I stole a glance at the candidates lined up against the wall, watching, like me, with intense interest. The one named Louella leaned in to whisper in the ear of the female standing beside her and she nodded, her eyes wide. It impressed me that none of the Shaedes seemed to take a side. Instead, they kept their expressions mostly neutral. Taking in the goings-on with ambiguity solidified the fact that ultimately they were all on the same team. I admired them for that.

“Why can’t I just take all of them?” I asked Raif, my gaze still passing over the candidates. My eyes met feral amber, and I stopped. Stared straight through the kid giving me look for look.

“Four.” Raif said. “Numbers aren’t open for discussion.”

I wanted to argue, but I’d lost my train of thought. By my estimation, the Shaede ignoring the fight to stare straight at me was the youngest man in the room. Probably even younger than my own one hundred and twenty-one years. His eyes were lighter than Xander’s by a couple of shades. Translucent and wild. White-blond hair, shining, thick, and wavy reached to about his collar, giving the impression that he ought to have a skateboard tucked under his arm. I couldn’t shake the look in his eyes, though. As I took him in, I wondered what had happened in his life to make him look so hard.

“How long has he been with you?” I inclined my head toward the boy.
< [ bord.

“Not long. But he’s smart. A quick learner, too. And tough as any hardened soldier. One of Xander’s recommendations.”

I tore my gaze from the boy and turned my attention back to the mats. Liam had managed to wrestle the
bokken
from Myles, and the two were throwing punches and kicks like an action movie fight scene right out of the eighties. Liam was big, not to mention strong. But Myles was quick and managed to keep the upper hand despite his opponent’s strength. Bloodied, panting, sweat beading on their foreheads—I realized they could go at it all day. Neither one of them would be willing to drop any time soon.

“That’s enough!” I shouted over the din of fighting.

Liam and Myles froze in a tangle of arms and legs. Usually, I’d be thrilled to have thrown my weight around. But today, I wasn’t in the mood. I just wanted to get the selections over with and go back to bed.

“We all get it,” I said, approaching the edge of the mat. “You’re both big, tough motherfuckers and can kick each other’s asses raw. Point made. You’re done and can get back in line.”

The two detangled from one another and shot me a matched set of sullen stares as they made their way to the group.

“One more thing.” Liam and Myles froze, though neither turned to look at me. “If I see you two fighting over petty bullshit again, I’ll bring a world of hurt down on both of you personally. And I can guarantee you won’t be walking out of this gym without help.”

Raif didn’t chime in. He knew he didn’t need to. He’d told me to be a leader, and whether I liked it or not, I’d stepped up to the plate. Guess it was too late to back out now.

The remaining candidates sparred in mixed groups, Louella fought twice, impressing me even more the second time. Asher, the wild towheaded blond, was everything Raif said he’d be. Quick, skilled, precise. That kid was lightning in a bottle. I wondered what would happen when someone finally pulled the cork.

“You’re all dismissed until further notice,” Raif said once the parade was over. He waited until the gym door closed behind the last candidate, the sound reverberating off the cement walls. “Would you like a couple of days to make a decision?”

“That’s not necessary,” I said, flipping through the files one last time.

“All right, then. Who would you like?”

“Louella for sure. That girl can fight. And Julian, because I have a feeling he’s usually not too far from Louella anyway.” I scanned the files again. Julian hadn’t been an impressive fighter, which might have been because he was too preoccupied with his apparent crush on Louella to put serious effort into sparring against her. But his file indicated that he was smart. Genius smart. And I needed brains as well as brawn.

“Good choice. Though you’ll have to watch out for Julian. You have to use a heavy hand if you want to keep him on task. That leaves two empty seats,” Raif said. “Who else?”

“Myles.” I flipped through the files once more. I didn’t know how I’d handle the both of them, but I never did anything halfway. “And Liam.”

“Will it matter to you if I advise against taking them both? I’d suggest keeping [ggewidt Liam and dismissing Myles.” That surprised me. If anything I’d thought he’d want Liam left off the list. He seemed the most hotheaded.

“You said I made the final decision. Liam has the muscle, but Myles is ruthless. I need ruthless as well.”

Raif inclined his head, though I could tell he wasn’t happy with the concession. “That should do it, then. I’ll—”

“And Asher,” I said over the top of Raif. “I want him.”

“I said four.”

“I want him, Raif. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Raif stalked to the double doors, shaking his head as he walked. “I suppose not, but there’s a first time for everything. I don’t trust him, Darian. He’s Xander’s candidate, not mine. Best to leave the boy to other pursuits. Take the four you’ve got. You’ve made a decent selection, and they’ll work well enough together.”

“I’ll take the four. For now. I’m not giving up on this, Raif. There’s something about Asher. I can’t put my finger on it. You’ll cave and let me add him. Eventually.” Call me overconfident, but I knew that Raif would have no choice but to give me what I wanted.

“Gods, but you’re a stubborn woman.”

I followed behind him, thinking I deserved a nice, long nap for putting u
p with this circus. “Would you like me any other way, Raif?”

“No,” he said, holding open the door for me. “I would not.”

Chapter 6

I
left Raif, and my corporeal form, at the gym door and headed for my room. No way was I going to let him follow me around for the rest of the day. I’d been a good girl. Dragged my ass out of bed, ate breakfast, and played nice with the troops. Now,
he
could do me a favor and leave me the hell alone for a couple of hours.

As I fell back onto the bed, my body became a solid thing. The expensive memory foam didn’t exactly let me land with a bounce, but it accepted my weight like strong, welcoming arms.
I missed you, Darian. Why don’t you lie right here and take a nice, long nap
. I was going to do just that. Screw Anya and her precious offspring. To hell with task forces, and mysteries, and loyalty. Take your brooding attitude and velvet voice and stick it right up your ass, Xander. The dark void called, and I was about to answer.

I drifted—faster than I expected—toward sleep. Drift might be a bit of an understatement. I jumped in a freefall toward unconsciousness. My stomach rumbled with hunger; it was almost noon and I’d only eaten twice in forty-eight hours, but nothing seemed as important as leaving reality behind for a while. I rubbed at my sternum, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the pain would be too great for me to handle. God, I missed him. Wanted him. Needed him to forgive me for how I’d left him and take the pain of my guilt away.

“Tyler . . .” I whispered sleepily against my pillow.

My cell played a muffled tune in my pocket, pulling me from near sleep. I swore under my breath and dug in my pants for the phone. Without checking the c ^ggewine aller ID, I answered and held the receiver to my ear. “When I get my hands on whoever this is, I’m going to tear you a new asshole!”

“Jesus, did I interrupt something?”

I sat up, jumped off the bed and switched the light on, shielding my eyes from the sudden burst of light. “Marcus?”

Tyler’s sometimes lackey laughed humorlessly on the other end. “Miss me? I sure as hell didn’t miss you.”

I tried to speak, but my brain was cranking too hard and fast for my mouth to catch up. Why the hell was Marcus calling me? Was Ty okay? Where the hell was he? What the fuck was going on?

“Since you’re not answering, I’m gonna guess the feeling’s mutual. I told Tyler never to send me on an errand that had to do with your scary ass again. Guess I drew the short fucking straw this time.”

“What?” The word dragged out, like I was talking through a mouthful of pudding. Had I heard him right? Tyler had asked him to call me?

“Tyler has a job for you,” Marcus said, slowly like I might be having comprehension problems. “Where you wanna do this? I’ve got the deets—and the confirmation on the wire transfer. The paycheck for this gig is too big for cash.”

“My place.” Small talk wasn’t on my agenda. I wanted more than job information from Marcus and beating it out of him in public wasn’t an option.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

Coward. He was an insufferable piece of shit. “Fine. The back alley behind The Pit, then.”

“I suppose it’s better than your place, but not by much. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

“Marcus,” I said, grabbing one of my black dusters from the closet. “If you’re not there in fifteen minutes, I’m going to go looking for you.”

Marcus cleared his throat. I could practically feel his nervous energy reaching out like twitchy fingers through the phone. “I’ll get there as fast as I can. But, Christ, Darian, give me some time to get through traffic. It’s the noon rush.”

“Fifteen minutes, Marcus. Don’t be late.”

* * *

I’d never met any of Tyler’s people in the middle of the day. In fact, in all the years I’d worked for Ty, I couldn’t remember a single time an exchange had been made before midnight. All the more reason to be suspicious.

The Pit hadn’t opened yet, so I didn’t have to worry about prying eyes. Usually, I’d never meet anyone—not even Marcus—in such a conspicuous place to make an exchange. But the fact that Ty had sent one of his employees on this errand without at least calling me first left a bitter chill in the bottom of my stomach. Why?

I removed the emerald pendulum from my neck, just so I could count the passing minutes with perfect accuracy. I wasn’t screwing around. If Marcus was one
half
of a second late, I was going after his ass. Pacing from wall to wall in the narrow alley, I waited with what can only be described as forced patience. I fingered the dagger at my thigh, felt for the katana hidden under my duster at my back, and thought of the many ways I was going to use them t cto e. I fingo pry every little drop of information I could out of Marcus’s scrawny hide.

“You’re certifiable, you know that?” Marcus said, coming around the corner. Four minutes early, smart boy. Running a shaky hand through his dark, greasy hair, his eyes darted from side to side. Beneath a worn, too small AC/DC T-shirt, every soft bulge of his middle was visible. Still wearing the same torn jeans and secondhand army boots, Marcus’s wardrobe obviously hadn’t improved since I’d seen him last. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, and he scrubbed a hand across his mouth. He looked nervous as hell, and he should’ve been.

Without even thinking, I jerked my dagger free of the sheath and grabbed the little shit by the collar. Ramming forward, I slammed him in to the brick wall with all the care of a jackhammer and shoved the dagger’s point into the flesh at the hollow of his throat. “Marcus, you slimy piece of shit, I want to know what the hell is going on. Now.”

“Jesus!” Marcus whimpered. “Are you off your meds or something? It’s just a job, Darian. You don’t need to go all paranoid, psycho bitch on me!”

“Who sent you?”

“What do you mean, who sent me?” Marcus had graduated from whimpering puppy to squealing girl. “Tyler fucking sent me.”

“You talked to him?”

Marcus swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and he nodded his head. “Of course I talked to Tyler. Jesus-fucking-Christ, Darian. Who the hell else would send me?”

The dagger slipped from my grasp, clattering to the pavement at my feet. Tyler sent him. Talked to him. And not me. “You brought something for me?” My voice had lost some of its fire, instead returning to the hollow-sounding representation of myself that had been dragging ass around Xander’s house for the past couple of days. My chest ached, my heart constricting to the point that I thought it would crumble. What the hell was going on?

“You wanna take your hands off me?” Marcus must have noticed my systematic breakdown and thought it gave him the right to get cocky. “He’s pretty worked up about this job, said it’s a top priority. So if I were you, I’d step off the crazy train and get to work.” He pulled a folded manila envelope from inside his coat and dangled it in front of me. “Better get busy, don’t think you wanna upset the boss man.”

I took two steps back and threw the punch before I thought better of it. My fist caught Marcus square on the jaw, and he spun a full circle before his head knocked against the wall and he slumped to the ground. I squatted down, scooped up the envelope and my dagger, and leaned in toward Marcus’s ear. “Talk to me like that again, asshole, and you’ll have more than a headache when you come to.”

Tucking the dagger back in its sheath and the envelope into my pocket, I became one with the light. Ty was back. He had to be. I tried to ignore the churning stomach acid eating away at my gut and the lump that had risen to my throat. My heart thundered in my chest, beating double time to the seconds ticking away within me. No time to put the emerald around my neck. I’d deal with that annoyance later. Right now, I had only one thing on my mind: Tyler.

Like a breath of air, I swept through the city. I was fortunate that I could travel unseen whether it be day, night, or anytime in between. Stealth and speed were what I needed as I raced toward Tyler’s build clerte ting, and I used every preternatural gift at my disposal.

I managed to make it across town in less than five minutes, but when the moment came for me to go inside, I found that my body refused to move. What if he wasn’t there? Or worse, what if he was. If he’d wanted to see me, he would’ve called. Right? Or maybe he was still upset and used Marcus as a means to reach out to me. In which case, it might not have been a good idea to knock him out.

Fuck it
. Either way, I had to know.

I wasn’t about to announce myself and run the risk that I’d be turned away. If Tyler was home, I wanted him to look me in the eye and tell me why he hadn’t at least called when he got back into town. It’s not like I expected him to forgive me overnight. After all, I had left him first. But, Christ, the past few months had been torture.

I forced myself through the entrance, past the front desk, drifting up the stairwell like a wraith. When I reached the penthouse, I regained my physical form only to pace back and forth in front of his door for three minutes and twenty-two seconds. I’d never felt so spineless. Helpless and scared was not how I liked to feel. I’d spent my human life in a constant state of uncertainty and fear; I didn’t want to spend my preternatural existence reliving those crippling emotions.

But I already had, though not for the same reasons.

Depressed. Alone. Broken. Unsure. Good god, when had I become the poster child for antidepressants? Marching up to the door, I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. Tyler was more than likely on the other side of the wall. Just a foot or two of steel, wood, drywall, and insulation separating us. My stomach clenched, and I rubbed at my sternum.

I laid my knuckles to the door, bypassing the polite chime of the doorbell. I gripped the dagger at my thigh, sliding the blade in and out, in and out of the sheath. Thirty-four seconds passed, and I knocked again—louder this time. And still I slid the dagger in and out of its sheath. The sound of steel scraping against leather comforted me somehow. The door swung open, and I gripped the dagger below the guard, squeezing until I felt the sharp blade bite into my skin. The pain, accompanied by the warm, sticky trickle of blood confirmed the worst. I wasn’t dreaming. This was real.

Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe the woman standing in Tyler’s doorway. Long chestnut hair, straight and shining like polished wood, hung to her narrow waist. Golden skin complemented eyes that weren’t quite green, or blue, or hazel, but rather, a harmonious blend of all three colors, pale and nearly translucent. Taller than me, with an air of sophistication I could never pull off, I was looking at pure, seductive, feminine perfection.

“Can I help you?”

God, even her
voice
was perfect. Not too high, not too low. Smooth like hot chocolate. A
pit, pat, pit, pat
sound drew my attention and I looked down at my hand, realizing I hadn’t let go of the dagger. I’d squeezed it so hard the blade penetrated a quarter inch into my palm and blood was dripping onto the expensive hallway carpet. I released my grip and let the dagger slide back into the sheath before I forced myself to look up again. Over Miss Perfect’s shoulder, I saw him walk out of the kitchen.

Tyler.

Shit, what had my life become? Some cliché, melodramatic Lifetime movie?

Air. I needed air.
Where is all of the fucking air?
My lungs stalled in my chest, my surroundings blurred out of focus as my eyes drank in every godlike detail of Tyler’s face. I would have wept at the sight of him if I’d had anything left to cry. But everything in me dried up; my blood turned to dust, my tears evaporated, and every soft part of me compressed into stone. Even my lips had gone numb. Was it possible to get hypothermia of the soul?

Tyler stopped dead in his tracks, several feet and one gorgeous supermodel vixen separating us. The mask of emotion on his face was more than my brain could comprehend, because I knew it was a lie. His beautiful hazel eyes burned right through me, his brows drawn in what could only be described as pain. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was at a loss for words.
Yeah, join the club.
At the heart of it all, though, was a tenderness so intense I had to avert my eyes. There was no way he could look at me with that kind of longing while another woman stood between us. He didn’t have the right to do that. It just didn’t work that way.

I had to get out of there. Now. As involuntary as breathing, my skin melded with the light. Thank god for it too, because it was the only sensation I could feel. Back through the city, I pushed myself as fast as possible, no longer a passing breeze, but a vengeful wind. A tornado. Hurricane Darian. No wonder Tyler sent Marcus instead of coming himself. Guess that explained his lack of phone calls—or any communication, for that matter—too. Why bother? There was nothing left to say, was there
? A picture’s worth a thousand words, and I’d just hit the visual jackpot. No need to make a bad situation worse with apologies and awkward explanations. I got the message loud and clear: whatever it was we’d had was over.