Darkyn's Mate (#3, Rhyn Eternal) (2 page)

If, for some reason, she was stuck here
forever, at least he wasn’t going to hurt her, as long as she
followed his rules.

No running. No fighting.

Either of them was too much of a turn on to
a demon that reveled in causing pain. The idea made her panic. How
long would it take Gabriel to find her and rescue her?

Would he be able to, if he thought the
goddess Past-Death was his mate?

Her stomach growled. A look around her
bedchamber with its black, stone walls, ceiling and floor revealed
nothing remotely edible. The large bed was set in a similar stone
bed frame and covered with dark coverings. The room was allegedly
the most comfortable Hell had to offer. She wasn’t able to tell
what time it was in Hell. There were no clocks and she had no cell
phone. Her room was made of black stone and quiet with no sounds
except the crackle of fire.

It wasn’t bad. She had no intention of
spending eternity there, though.

She stood, hungry. Made of
material softer than silk, the black dress she wore pooled at the
top of her feet. Her back was bare to display the name of
Darkyn
amid the
Immortals’ geometric writing that marked her as an Immortal
mate.

She put her hair down to hide the mark,
horrified by the idea of belonging to the devil.

Deidre’s hand went to her neck, where Darkyn
had placed a slender collar. If his name scrawled across her
shoulders didn’t mark her as his, the collar did. She didn’t think
any demon in Hell was going to mess with the Dark One’s mate. At
least, she hoped not.

She stood in front of the door nervously for
a long moment, not certain it would open.

It did.

There were no longer demon guards outside
her door, maybe because Darkyn knew she couldn’t leave. If her bond
to him was like hers to Gabriel, he’d be able to find her no matter
what.

She couldn’t think about such things without
wanting to break down and weep. First things first: she needed food
to survive. Bracing herself, she stepped into the hallway. No one
attacked her or told her to stop. She also had no idea where to
go.

Deidre closed the door behind her and walked
down the hallway. The dress moved with her like a second skin,
draping her curves and swishing silently around her legs. She
rubbed her mouth. It was dry and her gums irritated. She could use
some water, too.

She walked for ten minutes, carefully
remembering where she went, so she was able to find her way back.
The first demons that crossed her path made her freeze in place.
They didn’t notice her, and she released her breath.

Deidre continued through the halls lined
with torches bearing black flames. She reached a stairwell and
descended to a floor with wider, taller corridors, as if she’d gone
from the wing with private chambers to a more public area. There
were more demons on this level, a couple of which eyed her before
moving on, leaving her a bit more confident she wasn’t going to be
eaten. The stone doors lining each side were all closed.

One of them yawned opened as her eyes fell
to it.

With an anxious look around to make sure no
one was watching, Deidre peeked into the open door, hoping it led
to a McDonalds or some other place with food. What she saw puzzled
her.

Hell had a library?

At the far end of the library was a creature
that made her think twice about entering. White-gray fur covered a
body with moth-eaten wings, a hideous face and yellowed fangs. It
was hunched over a book large enough to cover half the black stone
desk at which it sat. As she watched, the creature rose and hobbled
from the desk to a nearby shelf. It wheezed, its body bent by time.
The small book it hefted made its stooped posture almost double
over. He staggered.

She had the sudden urge to assist him.
Whatever creature it was, it had to be ancient. She hesitated then
crossed the library.

“Do you want help?” she ventured
timidly.

The ugly face turned towards her, and she
slowed.

“What are you?” it asked in a voice as old
as its leathery face.

Uncertain how to explain things, she turned
and swept her pink-dyed hair from her back to show him the mating
mark.

“Ah.” It said then concentrated on holding
onto the book.

Deidre reached him just as he dropped it.
The tome was far heavier than she expected, made of something much
different than cardboard and paper. The two of them toppled to the
floor with the book.

“It only
looks
small,” the
creature said, peering at her. “The Dark One’s never had a
mate.”

“Ever?” she asked. She stood and bent. The
book was the size of a paperback she’d buy at an airport but had to
weigh fifty pounds. With a grunt, Deidre lifted it and carried it
to the table. She returned to the creature, which was climbing to
its feet with difficulty. She took its arm and helped him up.

“Ever,” it answered with a wheeze. “But …
there has only been one other Dark One before Darkyn.” Its
breathing was labored, and it sighed when they reached its chair.
“Was the oldest … deity remaining. Very powerful. Don’t know …how
Darkyn did it.”

“Maybe he made a better deal,” she
suggested. “That is what he does, isn’t it? Makes people horrible
deals that screw them over for eternity?”

“This is true. Darkyn is smart. He doesn’t
make …mistakes.”

She shivered, not wanting to imagine what
Darkyn was capable of or how hard it might be to outmaneuver him to
leave Hell. As ugly as the aged creature before her was, there was
something about him that left her feeling safe for the first time
since arriving to Hell.

“Do you have a name?” she asked.

“Do you?” It looked irritated at her
question. “Of course demons have names.”

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m Deidre.”

“A human mate and so soon after he’s taken
command.” The ancient demon shook his head in disapproval. “You can
call me Zamon. My real name is too hard for you to say.”

“Nice to meet you, Zamon.”

“There was a time … young girls ran when
they saw me,” he sounded annoyed then sighed. “That time is
gone.”

“If it helps, I’m scared.” Deidre rubbed her
upper lip again. Her gums were irritated, reminding her she hadn’t
eaten or drunk water in a while. “Do you want me to run away so you
feel better?”

“No.” Zamon growled. He pushed the small
book around then opened it.

“What kind of library is this?” she asked
with a glance around.

“I keep our histories, record bloodlines,
manage the deals that come in. I will record you now,” Zamon
said.

She watched him turn a page and touch it.
Strange writing appeared.

“You are recorded,” he stated, reading the
words. “The Oracle says you made your first deal as his mate. You
learn fast.” He nodded in approval. “Your deal holds the power of
the Dark One to enforce the debt, since you are his.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said. Her
first deal was made more out of emotion than anything else. She’d
challenged Gabriel’s new mate to win him over in one week, or one
of them lost their souls.

During the quiet time she’d had since then,
Deidre began to think she’d made a bad bet. Gabriel and Past-Death
had a relationship that spanned thousands of years. He’d chosen to
stay with her that long, and she’d broken Immortal laws to take her
place as his mate. Gabriel’s intense hatred was born of intense
love and pain, and he’d clearly never made up his mind about her in
the time they were together.

In a week, Deidre would be dead or back with
Gabriel. At least, this was what she hoped when she made the
deal.

“It is dangerous. You should not make deals,
until you learn how,” Zamon said sternly. “A bad deal by a deity or
its mate will ruin the universe.”

“Okay,” she said, startled by his calm
statement. “I’ll be careful. How do I learn?”

“Darkyn.”

She frowned. Since he was the one she wanted
to learn to outsmart, in case things broke bad, she doubted he’d
teach her anything. Another thought crossed her mind as she stood
in Hell’s library.

“Can you … teach me things about the
Immortals?” she asked. “I don’t know anything about this place. I
was a normal human two weeks ago.”

“Maybe.”

Her gaze returned to him. He was
concentrating on turning pages and recording things she was unable
to read.

“If Darkyn agrees,” Zamon added. “The Dark
One likes to control those close to him.”

“You mean there’s more than me?” she
asked.

“His daughter.”

“Seriously?” she exclaimed in disbelief.
“That … he’s a father?”

“Yes. She was hurt by an Immortal and is in
a coma of sorts.”

Deidre stopped herself from pursuing. There
was no way she was going to learn more. She had no intention of
staying here. Worse, she wasn’t about to give the creature that
tricked her into Hell and turned her Immortal an ounce of
compassion.

Her stomach growled again.

“I was looking for somewhere I could get
food,” she said, reminded of her initial reason for wandering out
of her room.

“Human food?”

“Um, yes.”

“You will not want to go where the other
human blood monkeys are. Darkyn would not approve. You will have to
ask him.”

Deidre sighed. In a place that operated on
rigged deals where demons didn’t seem to lose, she was certain
anything she asked Darkyn for was going to cost her. That he’d beat
out the original Dark One in a deal did not bode well for her.

She was trying hard to keep her fear away so
she could figure out this new world. First the unfriendly Immortal
society, now this nightmare. She’d promised herself she wasn’t
going to cry today. Half an hour after leaving her room, she was
ready to break down.

“I’m going to lay down,” she said.

“If you ask him, and he agrees, you can come
back,” Zamon said. “I will make time for you.”

“Thank you.”

Zamon nodded once, attention on the book.
Deidre retreated into the hallway and started back towards the
stairs. There was no way a creature like Darkyn, who valued control
over everything, was going to let her talk to Zamon. Or eat. Or
anything else.

Her eyes grew misty, and she rubbed them to
keep tears from coming.

A door along the hallway ahead of her
opened, startling her. Several demons exited, and the stone door
closed silently. She ceased walking to wait for them to move down
the hallway.

One caught sight of her and stopped. Unlike
the others whose paths she’d crossed earlier, he didn’t ignore her.
This one nudged the demon beside him. Within seconds, all four of
them were watching her like lions a wounded gazelle.

Darkyn warned her about running. Demons
loved a challenge and a fight. She held her breath and stayed
still, praying their interest was passing, and they’d move on.

They didn’t. One smiled coldly, revealing
its sharpened teeth, while another was the first to take a step
towards her. Deidre clenched her fists as the four surrounded her
in the middle of the hallway.

“Darkyn’s blood monkey,” one demon said,
eyes on the band around her neck.

She hadn’t thought to put
her hair up; it blocked the name of her mate on her back. Or maybe
they didn’t care. Maybe
he
didn’t care what happened to his mate.

“You know she’ll taste good,” another
agreed. “He takes the best ones.”

“He shouldn’t let you off the blood monkey
floor.”

“Human?”

She nodded, heart racing. All four growled,
hunger in their eyes.

“We’ll give you a head start,” the one in
front of her said. He stepped out of her path. “I’ll count to
three.”

Deidre shook her head.

“I’ll count to five?”

“No,” she replied. “He
won’t want you touching me.”
I
hope.

Two of them laughed.

“You must be new.”

“As long as we leave some for him. Blood
monkeys are afforded no protections here, and he always shares with
us. Whatever deal you lost, you’ll suffer demon mercy for as long
as we keep you alive.”

Demon mercy.
She had a feeling it was a horrible inside
joke.

“I’ll count to ten.”

“I’m not running,” she managed.

“Very well. This is less fun, but we still
get to eat.” The demon on one side snatched her arm and dragged her
to him. His canines lengthened. She shoved at him unsuccessfully.
He grinned at the attempt and grabbed her hair, yanking her head
back to expose her neck.

Suddenly, he looked up, an uneasy expression
crossing his features. Unable to see what he saw, Deidre prayed it
was Darkyn, and the demon lord wasn’t going to join them in passing
her around for dinner. The sound of bodies hitting the stone floor
behind her preceded Darkyn grabbing her by a few seconds. Deidre
was yanked away from the demon holding her then released. Something
jarred her, a flash of magic, one that made her more nauseous than
what she saw happen next.

Darkyn snatched the demon that intended to
make her its dinner. Deidre covered her face as the demon lord tore
out the demon’s throat with the same fangs that drank from her.
Warm blood sprayed her. He gripped her arm, spun her until her back
was to the remaining demon and pushed aside her hair.

“Spread the word,” he snarled.

“Yes, my lord,” the demon said in a hushed
voice.

Deidre opened her eyes, distracted by the
flow of cool magic from Darkyn into her. The remaining demon
stumbled away. Her eyes dropped to what was left of the other three
then flew up to the wall.

“Go,” Darkyn ordered and released her.

Deidre didn’t face him, afraid of what she’d
see. She stepped over the dead demon between her and the stairwell
without looking directly at the bloody mess. He’d told her not to
run, but she found herself sprinting as soon as she was free of the
dead demons. She fled up the stairs and down the hallways she’d
memorized on her trip to the library.