Dark Desire (22 page)

“Thank you, Doctor Bridges.”

The doctor bobbed his head, giving Mason a smile then Korvain a nervous look before leaving the room.

“Mason, can you pass me my clothes, please?” Eir asked, pointing to the chair behind him. As Mason handed her the dark blue dress and matching lace bra their eyes locked, their fingers touching.

Korvain cleared his throat noisily, breaking their moment. Mason glanced at the Mare briefly before turning back to Eir.

“We’ll let you have some privacy.”

Korvain pushed off the wall as Mason walked around the bed.

“Mason?” Eir asked softly.

“Yeah?”

“Would you stay, please? I’m … too afraid to be on my own just yet.”

Korvain huffed impatiently. “I’ll be waiting outside,” he announced, pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway.

Mason watched him go and was still facing the door when he said, “Okay, but I’ll keep my back turned.”

Fuck, was that his own voice? He had some serious gravel going on.

The hospital bed creaked as she slid off the mattress, the whisper of clothes on skin following soon after.

“All right, you can turn around now,” she said.

Mason spun around—quite possibly a little too eagerly—and swallowed. She looked every inch the goddess that she was. Then he saw those bruises again and the anger threatened to take over. He closed his eyes and counted to ten once more. It was at a time like this that Sophie was needed.

Closing the distance between them, Mason gently slid his fingers over each and every purple mark.

“I’m fine,” she told him, touching his hand.

She was far from fine, but Mason dropped his hand, pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled away.

“We should go. You must be tired after your ordeal.”

She bowed her head. “You’re right. Take me home?”

Tugging at her hand, he led her from the room, meeting Korvain out in the hall.

“Are you ready?” Korvain asked, placing a hand on the small of Eir’s back and leading her back towards the elevators.

“I have to sign the discharge papers,” she said.

“It’s already taken care of. I just want to get you home,” Korvain told her, almost curling his body around hers as they walked. This rubbed Mason up the wrong way, but he realized Korvain was definitely the right person to be looking out for her. Obviously he couldn’t be trusted to do the job himself. He’d had no idea she was in trouble. He’d been so absorbed by Sophie that nothing else had mattered.

Mason trailed them out the front door and started to head for his car, but Korvain stopped him.

“I’m going to fade back with her so you can’t fuck it up again. Get straight to work when you get to the club. I’ll take care of Eir.”

The words stung, but Mason nodded and unlocked his car. As he watched them fade from sight, he sighed. What the fuck was he doing getting further involved in their world?

Taer shrugged into the holster that would house her Beretta, feeling the loss of the katana she’d had in her possession only briefly. And thinking about the steel made her remember—with startling, erotic clarity—what had happened between her and Aubrey. It turned out that her promise to herself meant pretty much nothing, because as soon as his lips had touched hers, she had wanted him.

Still wanted him.

“Get your head in the fucking game,” she told herself, sliding her weapon into the holster under her arm. Picking up her jacket from the bed, Taer stormed out of the apartment and rode the elevator down, her teeth grinding the entire time.

Once she was outside in the alleyway, Taer pulled out the card Aubrey had given her with the two addresses scrawled on the back. Nether of them was that far from where she, Korvain and Adrian had lived before.

Closing her eyes, she felt the pull of her fade. The air shivered and the next moment she was standing opposite the ruin of her former house. It had been a month since she had been there, but it felt like yesterday.

The battered chain-link fence running along one side of the driveway was slightly charred from the ferocity of the fire, but the neighboring house had escaped the flames. It looked as if someone had bought the cursed land and was building again because earthmovers were in place—monstrous, empty and silent in the darkness.

Sighing, Taer turned her back on what had been her home and started in the direction of the first address, only four blocks away. Looking up at the building, Taer searched for any indication that it had been warded. Darrion’s paranoia wouldn’t have allowed him to stay anywhere unprotected, so there had to be something.

The house itself looked just like all the others in the street. Two stories high, with tired yellow paint flaking off the siding, the front porch railings leaning precariously off the edge. The whole structure looked about ready to fall. Some of the windows had been broken, the contents of the house probably already stolen and sold for drug money.

She inspected the doorframe closely, only noticing the protective rune carved into the wood once she had rubbed some of the dirt away. It was a crude spell, but it meant Taer couldn’t fade in.

Checking over her shoulder to make sure there was nobody else around, she grasped the handle and forced the door open. A bell chimed inside, but other than that, there was no sound. Once inside, she pushed the door until it was just closed, but not on the catch. Her eyes swiveled around, taking in the ruined furniture and the rubbish all over the floor. It looked as if squatters had already moved in.

Gripping her Beretta, she flipped off the safety and moved through the lower level before taking the stairs up to the second floor. In each of the rooms, there was more evidence of humans squatting there—including a lot of drug paraphernalia.

She was in the final bedroom at the end of the hall when her pocket began to vibrate. It was a text message from Aubrey.
War Hammer
was all it said. Taer deleted the message and shoved her phone away.

Taer made her way down the stairs. She was whisper-quiet on the treads, keeping her ears pricked and her eyes moving. Darrion hadn’t used this place in a long time it seemed. Pulling open the door carefully, she slipped outside onto the front porch and looked around the street.

Nothing was moving.

Taer holstered her Beretta and faded to the War Hammer, looking up at the building with trepidation when she got there. She pushed against the door and into the bar. As soon as Taer stepped into the dim space, all eyes were on her, just like her last visit—but this time none of them had a predatory gleam. She grinned inwardly, striding past the gods and goddesses, elves and dwarves, all sitting around and drinking.

Her eyes snagged on the same Mare who had confronted her before. The asshole. His gaze dropped as soon as their eyes met. It was another set of eyes that caught and held her attention.

Cold. Gray ice.

Haunting.

Taer lifted her face towards Aubrey, who was sitting at his booth in the back. The low lights did nothing to hide his other-worldly beauty, nor could they hide the danger and sexual electricity that oozed from his body. Longing shot through her unbidden as she gazed at him.

Aubrey’s upper lip twitched in amusement, his fingers casually drumming on the tabletop. Taer felt as if she was rooted to the spot, her body warring with her head. She should have just ignored his demand that she come and see him. She was about to flip him off and stomp out of there until she saw what was resting on top of the table.

Pushing her shoulders back, she walked toward him, stopping a dozen feet away. “What do you want?” she asked, her eyes on the katana laid across the table as his long fingers caressed the scabbard.

“What a dangerous question,” he drawled. Her eyes shot back to his, finding amusement dancing in those gray-ice depths. “To give you back what’s rightfully yours,” he eventually added, his voice a silken caress.

“I don’t want it,” she lied, her eyes dropping down to the steel and lingering there. When she looked up, Aubrey’s expression had darkened, his eyes the color of lead. He stood up abruptly, scooping up the katana as he did, and advanced on her. Every inch of his body told of his lethal nature, and yet Taer held her ground.

“I made a mistake yesterday,” he said with a sigh. “I had no right to kiss you like that.”

Like what?
she thought. Like he’d meant to do it? Like he’d enjoyed it as much as she had, and had dominated her so thoroughly?

“It won’t happen again until you ask me to.” He moved even closer to her, whispering, “And I won’t fuck you until you beg me to, so think of this as an apology. Please.”

Taer looked down at the blade. She could feel the call of the steel. She didn’t want to be indebted to him in any way, but the sword was a part of her now—not something she desired but something she needed. She wrapped her hands around the peg and the scabbard, accepting both the gift and his apology. Aubrey’s mouth lifted into a satisfied smirk before he turned away and sat back down again.

“This doesn’t change anything between us, you know, Aubrey,” Taer said, taking a few steps forward to set the katana down on the table. “You’re training me. That’s all.”

He shrugged lazily. “If you say so,” he replied. “But since you’re here, I’ve also got something else for you.”

“Unless you can tell me where Darrion is, I don’t need anything else from you.”

“It’s something of mine I’ve seen you admire.” From under the table, he pulled out a book and laid it on the table. Taer leaned forward to read the title.

Pride and
fucking
Prejudice
.

“Is this some kind of joke?” Aubrey looked affronted, and she would have taken him seriously if it weren’t for that slight curl to his top lip.

“A joke?” he asked.

She reached for the book, but Aubrey was faster, slipping the hardback away from her and towards himself. She huffed under her breath, looking around to see who else was watching their little exchange.

“No, this isn’t a joke, Winter Fox.” His voice was quiet, but the amusement was still there, in his eyes, in his voice. “Everyone should read the classics.”

“Look, I didn’t come down here for this shit, Aubrey. You wanted to apologize? You did it.” Picking up the katana, Taer turned to leave.

“There’s something else you need from me, though, isn’t there?”

She turned back to him. “Fuck you.”

He laughed at her outraged expression and she turned to stalk away. “Ask me what you need to know, Taer,” Aubrey called out after her.

“What would it cost me this time?” she replied hotly, despising the way she’d been forced to turn to him once more. But what choice did she have? Korvain wouldn’t tell her what she needed to know, and there was nobody else who could possibly know what she was going through.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Sit down, Winter Fox.” His tone was more serious now.

Sliding into the booth, Taer kept her eyes trained on Aubrey. She stayed like that for a few minutes, silent, waiting for the simmering of her rage to die down.

“Are you going to ask me the question you have poised on that distracting tongue of yours?”

The mention of her tongue made Taer’s mind flash back to that kiss, the way that his tongue had moved, the way his body had felt against hers. She exhaled deeply, angry with herself for allowing him to kiss her in the first place. “What do you know about breaking through mental shields?”

His lip quirked up slightly. “Now, why would I know about anything like that?”

Her hands curled around the katana beneath the table. “Just a hunch,” she replied, matching his nonchalant tone.

He laughed, throwing his head back. “I like you, Winter Fox,” he said when his laughter died down. “I like you a lot. Do you want to know why?”

She shook her head.

“I like you because even though you pretend to hate me, deep down you can’t stay away from me. So you make up little stories and lies so you can come and see me once more.”

“You were the one to ask me down here,” she bristled.

“True,” he conceded, “but you didn’t have to come.” He leaned back again, stretching out his legs, brushing past Taer’s thighs. She slid her body away, frowning.

“I think you find my ego irresistible,” he said.

Taer snorted and looked away, her eyes landing on the cover of his book. “So, what’s the book about?”

“A strong-minded young woman bullied by society into finding a wealthy husband.”

Really?
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a chick-lit lover.”

Aubrey touched the cover fondly. “Ms Austen is quite the storyteller.”

“How does it end?”

Aubrey slid the book over to her. “Read it and find out.”

Taer let her fingers glide over the worn fabric cover. There was no noise, except for the quiet murmurs of other patrons. “Are you going to answer my question?” she asked reluctantly.

Aubrey sighed. “To break someone’s mental shield, especially a trained Mare’s shield, is perhaps the most difficult thing there is to do.”

“But it is possible.”

Stiffly, he said, “Of course.”

Taer licked her lips, feeling the flicker of hope sparking. “How?” she asked.

His gaze bored into hers. “Everyone fears something, Winter Fox. Even a Walker.” He sighed. “Come back to me tomorrow night. I have someone I want you to meet.”

Mason’s hands tightened on the wheel as he made the short drive back to the club from the hospital. Even though it was barely a six-mile trip, it was more than enough time for Mason to play and replay Korvain’s words in his head.

I’m going to fade back with her so you can’t fuck it up again.

Again.

Goddamn him, but Korvain was right.

I’ll take care of Eir.

He pulled down the side alley to park behind the club, bringing his car to a stop beside Bryn’s SUV. Putting it into park, he popped open his door, letting the cool, crisp air swirl inside. He breathed it in, letting it blow away some of his anger and frustration.

He had no right to be pissed at Korvain. The Mare was just trying to protect the Valkyries, but Mason felt like
he
should have been the one to look out for Eir. He had never felt this strongly about a woman, never felt an intimacy so intense. He felt as if he could finally be whole with Eir in his life—but already he had let her down, seen her hurt. He wasn’t strong enough to protect her.

With a sigh, he hauled himself out of his car, his eyes downcast … which was why he didn’t see Korvain coming. One minute, Mason was upright and breathing, and the next he was kissing the asphalt, struggling to suck in enough oxygen and nursing a pain in his stomach from a punch he thought had bruised his internal organs.

Hot breath steamed onto his face, and Mason opened his eyes, finding himself nose to nose with Korvain. Korvain bared his fangs before speaking in a low, controlled voice. “You are not to see Eir anymore.”

The shadows around them darkened perceptibly with Korvain’s building rage. And with that, any reply Mason could have given died on his tongue. Even though it would kill him, Mason knew Korvain was right. He would only hurt Eir more if he stayed in her life, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of her coming to any more harm.

“Am I making myself clear?” Korvain asked. His voice was calm, but the shadows around them grew darker.

Mason agreed stiffly. The Mare stepped back, staring down at him, his arms held close to his sides, his hands curled into tight fists.

“You’re not going to fight me on this?” he asked incredulously.

Carefully, Mason sat up, propping himself up against the car. Peering up at the Mare, Mason replied, “Do you expect me to?” He sighed. “Look, I get it, all right? I’ve fucked up my one and only chance with her, and I knew I only had one shot. So you’re right. I’m going to stay away from her.”

Korvain stared at him, his eyes boring into Mason’s skull. “For real?” he asked.

Mason didn’t break his gaze. Korvain’s shoulders relaxed and he held out a hand to haul Mason to his feet.

“I respect you, Mason,” Korvain said, leaning in close, “but if you’d told me to fuck off just now, I was going to put a bullet in your brain, and I really didn’t want to do that.”

Mason stopped breathing for a few seconds and only drew breath when his lungs began to burn. Korvain stepped away. “I expect you on the floor in five minutes.”

Four and a half minutes later, Mason was standing in front of the stairway to the upper levels of the club. His face was blank, his hands crossed in front of his body, but he kept his eyes moving, scanning the crowd, as he listened to the thoughts of the gods and goddesses drinking at the club that night.

Over five hours had passed and Darrion hadn’t been mentioned once by anyone. Mason was starting to think the bastard was a ghost, and Korvain was just chasing his tail trying to find him.

“Everything all right, Boss?”

Mason turned towards the voice. Sam, one of the younger bouncers at the club, was staring at him curiously. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-three at the most, but Mason knew for a fact he was a good guy. Hell, he had hand-selected him. He had seen something in him that reminded him of his brother.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Mason paused, wanting to take the focus off himself. He didn’t want to talk about personal shit at work. “I had something on I couldn’t miss.”
Fuck, I said too much.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asked impatiently, his eyes making their way back to the crowd. That was when he noticed Bryn walking towards her office. Turning back to Sam, he said, “Actually, stay here. I need to speak to Bryn for a moment.”

Mason strode off before the younger man could answer, catching up to Bryn in the hallway. The Valkyrie stopped when she heard the door close behind her, looking back.

“Mason?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”

“I need to speak to you.” The words were barely audible over the pounding of blood in his ears.

“About what? I’m kind of busy.”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry … about Eir. I shouldn’t have let it happen. It’s my fault.”

Bryn’s expression softened. “It’s fine, Mason. She’s all right now, maybe just a little shaken up, but she’ll recover. Believe me, she’s been through worse.”

Mason wanted to say more, but now wasn’t the time. Bryn saw him hesitate.

“Was there something else you needed?” she asked.

Shaking his head, Mason said, “No.” He retreated back into the club, knowing that he needed to drown himself in running the club’s security just so he could stop thinking about Eir and Sophie and everything else that was fucked up in his life.