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

She pushed her door open and slammed it
shut. The demon blood on her face and arms disgusted her, just like
the sight of the ease with which Darkyn shredded three demons with
bodies like humans. But it was the thrum of magic lingering within
her that disturbed her most.

It was the same thrum she felt with Gabriel,
after she’d been claimed as his mate. Instead of Gabriel’s warm
energy, this one was Darkyn’s cool energy, the soul-deep connection
to a demon horrifying her. Would it be as strong as hers had been
to Gabriel, where she’d ached for him to touch her, no matter how
little sense it made?

No. It couldn’t be. It was probably just
Darkyn’s magic, which he used to kill the demons. The alternative –
that her own body was about to betray her to the devil – wasn’t
something she could handle. She felt overheated already, like she
did when she was starting to get a cold.

Her gaze went to the bed.
She’d never thought about how long Darkyn might wait to claim his
mate by Immortal law in
that
way. Gabriel gave her space. Something told her
Darkyn wasn’t so considerate.

She wiped blood from her face and crossed to
the small bathroom off the bedroom. She was no closer to food, but
she could at least drink water out of the sink. Her mouth was
dry.

Deidre grimaced at the sight of blood on her
arms. She cleaned them off with hands that trembled from the
confrontation. One question was answered: Darkyn was obligated to
protect her in some way. He didn’t do so out of the kindness of his
heart. She cleaned up and left the bathroom, freezing.

Darkyn stood beside the hearth. Deidre
swallowed hard. The sense she was falling ill grew stronger. Her
skin was clammy, her forehead hot.

Her eyes were riveted to his frame in a way
that warned her the bond she’d felt with Gabriel was now with this
creature. Just under six feet tall, wide-shouldered and lean,
Darkyn’s youthful appearance was framed by short, dark hair. His
eyes were blacker than Gabriel’s, and his plain features deceptive.
He didn’t look like the threat she knew him to be.

“As my mate, you have the ability to draw
off my power. Anything you ask of Hell, it will do,” he said.

She wasn’t expecting the information.

“Try to summon human food,” he directed.

Not at all certain what he meant, she was
hungry enough to test his claim. She willed a cheeseburger to
appear. One did on the mantle above the fire. Deidre stared at
it.

An odd sense entered her mind, dulling her
senses. The cheeseburger was quickly forgotten. She shook her head.
She almost felt as if she was … drugged? Her thoughts weren’t
entirely hers.

Darkyn extended his hand, drawing her from
the thoughts before it was able to form fully. A small hourglass
with black sand was in his palm. Sand had already begun to trickle
into the bottom.

Deidre approached him with trepidation,
stopping only close enough to reach out and take the hourglass.

“What is it?” she asked.

“When the sand runs out, your deal with
Past-Death is finished.”

Her eyes flew up in shock that he knew about
her plan to get Gabriel back. She clenched the hourglass, waiting
for him to explode.

“It was a clever deal,” Darkyn said,
approving.

She searched his face, uncertain how to take
his response.

“I’m counting on you winning,” he added.
“The deal of my mate is sealed with my magic. It would not be
seeming for the first deal of my mate to be a loss.”

Fear fluttered through
her. If Darkyn wanted her to win, what had she forgotten to add to
the terms, so
she
won? Not Past-Death, not Darkyn.
She
wanted to win, so she could
return to Gabriel. She was missing something.

Or he was already a step ahead. Zamon’s
conversation with her about Darkyn tricking his predecessor left
her feeling like she walked into a trap when she made the deal with
Past-Death.

“Come here.”

The parting words of Fate’s short visit the
day before were all that kept her from flipping out. He’d said she
had a chance not only to leave, but also to help save Gabriel’s
life, if she did exactly as Darkyn said.

Comforted by Fate’s words, Deidre obeyed
Darkyn’s order with trepidation but no hesitation, assuming he
meant to drink from her again. His nearness rattled her senses in a
way that reminded her of how she felt around Gabriel. She swallowed
hard, willing herself to remember that she was meant for Gabriel,
even if it was Darkyn’s name on her back.

The heaviness of her mind grew, until she
wasn’t certain why she should resist Darkyn in the first place. She
was fighting a fever, one that made it hard for her to focus.

“No demon should ever harm you again. But,
if an Immortal or human or deity corners you, and you aren’t able
to summon me, you need to know how to defend yourself,” Darkyn
started. His voice was the only thing that penetrated the haze
coating her thoughts. “I’ll show you how to kill the simplest way
possible.”

As he spoke, he peeled off his shirt to
reveal a whip-like, muscular upper body coated by a thin layer of
tan skin. Gabriel’s body was built for power; Darkyn’s was crafted
for agility. He tossed his shirt on the chair behind her. He
reclaimed the hourglass from her and set it on the mantle of the
fireplace. When he took her hand, she almost cried.

She didn’t want to be attracted to him, to
feel the fire in her blood and the calm at her core when he touched
her. She was too aware of the expanse of his chest, the heat of his
closeness, the strange fog that grew thicker in her mind.

“I prefer to kill painfully,” he said. “You
probably do not. Have you ever killed anyone?”

“No. I’ve never even hit anyone.”

He assessed her for a moment before
continuing. “To kill a man, Immortal or demon fast, touch him
here.” He placed her hand at his neck.

Worse than seeing him was
feeling him. His skin was smooth and warm, stretched taut over an
athletic body. The Dark One felt like a
man
.

“Or here,” he said and moved her hand to his
chest. “Also, instant death.”

She flattened her palm against the spot over
his heart. His hand fell away, but hers remained. He had a
heartbeat, one that reverberated through her as if it was her own.
She wasn’t able to reconcile the creature that turned her Immortal
with the man before her.

“How?” she managed, needing to focus on
something other than him. She ran her tongue over her gums then
licked her lips. Despite the water, her mouth was dry and aching
almost to the point of pain.

“You will them to die-dead. As my mate, you
are able to use a limited amount of my power,” he explained. “Try
it. Will me dead.”

Her attention shifted to
the hand over his heart. He felt too
real.
She hadn’t been able to break
up with a boyfriend she was sick of for fear of hurting his
feelings. She couldn’t kill anyone.

She shook her head.

“You turn down a chance to kill the Dark
One?”

She almost screamed at herself. He wasn’t a
man. He was the creature who trapped her in Hell. The thought of
hurting him made the hand she pressed to his heart tremble. It
wasn’t anger she felt towards him but … hunger.

He smelled like a heady mix of male musk and
something so faint and sweet, it made her want to press her face to
the skin of his chest for a better smell. It was this compulsion
that was like a drug weighing down her thoughts and making her
hungry, like walking past a bakery first thing in the morning and
trying not to look at what was in the window. His solid frame and
heat were creeping into her senses, tugging at her resolve to
resist.

He stood at ease before her, unconcerned
with teaching her to kill then exposing himself to death at her
hands. She couldn’t bring herself to try, just like she couldn’t
remove her hand. His body was covered with faded scars that
fascinated her, made her want to trace the lengths of them with her
fingers then her tongue.

She’d experienced one night with an Immortal
mate, and it was the most incredible night of her life. What would
it be like to run her hands over Darkyn’s lean frame the way she
had Gabriel’s, to feel his sharp teeth nip the delicate skin of her
inner thighs and breasts? What pleasure would it bring if he drank
from her while making love to her?

The erotic visions in her head made heat
bloom in her lower belly and the fire of desire spread in her
blood.

Deidre struggled against the sensations. She
needed control of her own mind back, but the feverish fog was too
thick.

Was what she felt for Gabriel nothing more
than destiny and Immortal laws she knew nothing about? Was she
destined to feel that for Darkyn, despite knowing what he was? Was
there no choice in who she loved?

“No,” she said out loud. “It can’t be
true.”

“The laws from the time-before-time are
absolute. They are the only ones,” Darkyn’s growl was unusually
soft, almost a purr. “Past-Death fucked you over by letting you
experience another mate first, when you were meant for me
alone.”

“No,” she said. “This is…this is temporary.”
She dropped her hand and prayed the sensations within her left.

“How certain are you that what you feel is
not real?”

Deidre met his gaze. He always knew how to
read her. He had since they first crossed paths in the shadow
world, when he offered her a choice: to cure the inoperable brain
tumor killing her or to outright kill her before she declined,
whichever outcome she preferred.

His gaze was penetrating and direct,
stirring desire and fear within her. His features were masculine
and strong. His nose bore the appearance of having been broken and
set incorrectly more than once. Where Gabriel was always
clean-shaven, Darkyn’s strong jaw was shaded by a day or two of
growth, lending danger to his appearance. His fangs were long, his
eyes burning with more than hunger.

“Certain enough to make me a deal?” He
touched her, his hand settling on her arm. Her breath caught. Cool
energy worked its way into her. The simple, purposeful touch
reinforced what she already knew. This was too similar to what she
physically felt towards Gabriel to be anything other than the
Immortal bond that branded Darkyn’s name across her shoulders.

If she could only think straight for a few
seconds! But her thoughts were falling under the control of
something else.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered in a choked
voice.

“It is the nature of the mating rite. You
were never meant to belong to Gabriel. It took me too long to find
Past-Death’s soul. You almost waited too long to seek me out for a
deal,” he said. “A few more days, and even I wouldn’t have been
able to undo what Wynn did.”

Had the deity Fate betrayed her like
everyone else did? His advice had been to give in to Darkyn. Why
try to help her, if he knew her destiny already?

“You’re trying to trick me again,” she said
with resolution.

Darkyn cupped her cheek with one hand, the
cool energy spreading as his thumb rubbed her cheek lightly. She
shuddered at the contact. With his other hand, he removed the
slender collar he had placed around her neck when she arrived. It
dissipated.

The odd scent was closer, and she found
herself breathing in deeply to try to capture it.

“Think about it. When you
win your deal with Past-Death, there’s no requirement for her to be
rendered dead-dead at the end of the week. She may live an
eternity, even if her soul comes to you eventually,” Darkyn
explained. “Gabriel cannot kill his own mate. It’s against the
Immortal laws. Which begs the question: What happens to
you
in one
week?”

It was the same question she’d been asking
herself. She didn’t know the answer. She was terrified to find out.
As he spoke, he continued the light stroke of one thumb and trailed
a finger down the side of her face and traced her jaw. A line of
cool fire remained. His touch went down the side of her neck,
lingered on her collarbone then continued down her arm. Mesmerized
by the sensations, her confusion and his direct gaze, she had to
concentrate hard to register what he said.

“I, um, don’t know,” she murmured then shook
her head. “I mean, this is temporary. It won’t happen that
way.”

Darkyn’s hand rested on her hip. He drew her
against him. Deidre found herself leaning into his solid frame
without resistance, entranced by the combination of his hot, hard
body and cool fire on her swimming senses. The faint, sweet scent
was close. Calling to her. Tugging at her ability to reason.

She nuzzled the hand cupping her cheek, and
his thumb traced her lips. He lifted her hand to his heart.
Instinctively, she flattened her palm against his chest once more
to feel his heartbeat. It was the opposite of hers: calm, steady,
strong.

“You don’t sound certain enough to make a
deal with me.”

“I … I’m not sure why I should.”

Touching him felt too natural. He was
saturating her senses, seducing her somehow. She’d walked away from
Gabriel, because he all-but-pushed her away. Darkyn’s intentions
were the opposite. He was using the truth to hammer down her
resistance and his power to seduce her. She didn’t expect it; she
expected him to lie rather than point out the flaws in her
desperate logic.

The fog around her thoughts grew
heavier.

Waiting for him to snap or yell as he had
when she arrived to Hell, she touched him timidly with her other
hand to begin exploring the ridges of the scars on his chest.

“Touch me, taste me, scratch me, bite me,”
he whispered. “You can’t be too rough for me.”