Chapter 2
Strong smell. Strong, terrible smell.
She jerked her head back, and her eyes fluttered open as she waved the offender away from under her nose.
“I had just told her about Phillip…too much for her…worried…” She could hear Willow’s voice over her head. “Darce? Darcy?”
“I’m…I’m okay. Stop, Will—”
Willow moved the smelling salts away and pressed a glass of water to Darcy’s lips.
“Drink.”
Darcy was half-reclined in her favorite spot on the window seat with two pillows behind her back, and Willow sat beside her, her face inches from Darcy’s, worried and cross.
“I’m okay, Will,” she said, but took a small sip.
Jack had carried her to the window seat, of that she was certain.
She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but she could still feel the heat from his arms on her skin, and it felt so good that a shiver went down her back.
She took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter, pushing back on her hands and moving the pillows until she felt the wall behind her.
Then she saw him. Jack sat across from her on the other side of the seat.
Her shoulders dropped in defeat, and her eyes teared. She was so relieved to see him, so comforted by his presence after three days of intense sadness, loneliness, and anger.
Aside from the brief tenderness she’d noted when they’d first clapped eyes on each other before she fainted, there was no further affection in his eyes. His gaze was impassive. Shuttered.
She looked away from him, feeling angry with herself for wanting to see love in his eyes, for the sheer relief she felt to be back in his company.
She didn’t want to be relieved. She wanted to stay angry.
There was no way they could be together, so being around him would just be painful and difficult.
The bottom line was that, regardless of the leaping in her heart and surges of lust throughout her body, she didn’t want him here.
She looked him in the eyes.
I asked you not to come back.
It wasn’t my intention to come back.
Then why?
Because I had to.
Darcy swallowed and looked away. It was clear he didn’t want to be here. So why had he come back?
“Are you two—are you talking?” Willow asked, standing in front of the seat, looking back and forth between them with knitted brows.
“They’re eyespeaking.” Another voice. Male. From the dimly lit front hallway behind Willow.
Darcy leaned forward to look around Willow and saw a man there. Almost as tall and broad as Jack, with black hair and dark eyes, she knew they must be related. She whipped her eyes back to Jack.
My brother, Julien.
Well, that’s just great. You brought another one here.
His eyes narrowed for just a moment before giving her a bored look and turning his face away.
“Willow,” Darcy said, without looking back toward the foyer, and trying to keep her voice calm for her friend. “That’s just Julien, Jack’s very docile brother.”
“I know,” she answered, and Darcy was relieved to hear wonder, not fear, in her friend’s voice. “We met while you were—”
Julien stepped forward to stand beside Willow, and Darcy could see him better. His eyes were wide, and she perceived a mixture of surprise and what was it? Curiosity? Fascination? Something like that.
“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” he murmured, staring at Darcy, then at Jack. “You can eyespeak.”
“That’s wild,” breathed Willow, her mouth slightly open. She looked back at Darcy, searching her eyes. “Are you talking to Jack right now?”
Darcy looked at Willow, quirking one eyebrow irritably. “How could I? I’m looking at you, Will. Jack and I can’t eyespeak unless we’re looking at each other.”
“Huh,” Willow murmured, still staring at Darcy with her wide, dark eyes.
“You sure you’re all human?” Julien asked, still staring at Darcy like an alien life form and wrinkling his nose to sniff in her direction.
“Uh, yes. Last I checked.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Julien, stop staring at her.”
“And smelling her,” added Darcy in a sour voice.
“Sorry. I just never…”
Jack stood up, glancing at Darcy once before facing his brother and Willow.
“Could you two…” They stared back at him. “I mean, could Darcy and I have a minute alone?”
Julien turned to Willow. “We could go sit on your porch swing?”
“I-I don’t know. I don’t think I should leave—” Willow started.
“I don’t bite,” cajoled Julien.
“Very funny,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. “Promise?”
“You’re Métis,” he said, as though that declaration should soothe her worries. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“How do you know that?”
“He can smell it on you,” said Jack quietly.
“You can smell that I’m Métis?” Ever fascinated by anomalies of the human body, Darcy could practically see the wheels of Willow’s medical head churning with this news. Eyespeak, keen smell. Yep, Willow was in heaven.
Julien nodded. “A quarter, right?”
“Right. But what does that have to do with you not biting—”
“We’re both mixed blood. It’s just not…done. It’d be like you eating your pet cat or pet dog. You could, I guess, but you just wouldn’t.” He shivered, his face contorting like he’d just bitten into a lime.
“I don’t know whether to be insulted or relieved.” She paused. “So that part of the legend is real. You don’t feed on Métis. What else?”
Julien was clearly trying not to smile any wider, but was losing the fight. “How about this? We go sit on the swing, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know about Rougs. You ask questions, and I’ll answer them.”
Willow turned back to Darcy with wide eyes, duty tamping down her fascination with Roug biology. “I don’t think I should leave you. Are you okay with this?”
“Doesn’t look like I have a choice.” Darcy looked at Julien. “Don’t get too comfortable, though. He won’t be long.”
The door shut behind them, and Jack sat back down on the window seat at Darcy’s feet, facing the living room. She flinched as he settled near her, moving her feet away from him.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t worry,” he retorted sharply.
He scooted over next to the wall, away from her, folding his hands in his lap. She almost missed the slight movement of his jaw clenching as she watched his profile.
“Why are you here, Jack?” she asked in a gentler voice.
“I need you to come stay with me,” he said. His voice was flat and bland. It was a tone you’d use to describe the weather, not make out-of-the-question demands.
“Huh. That’s so not going to happen.”
Jack looked down, licking his lips, and Darcy hated the way warmth pooled in her belly, remembering his mouth on hers. Her heart beat faster, and her breathing felt deeper and more deliberate. She shifted her legs, trying to distract herself by looking out the window.
“Me too,” he muttered.
She turned her head to him and saw the copper flakes stir and burn in his eyes.
You too what?
My body wants yours as badly as yours wants mine.
Darcy narrowed her eyes and looked away at the darkness outside. His cockiness made her next words a little easier.
“Jack, the only thing I want is to never see you again. I’m not going anywhere with you. I need you to leave and not come back. That’s all I want.”
“That’s not going to happen, Darce.” His voice was low and taut and unyielding.
“Why not?” Angry tears burned her eyes as she pulled her knees up to her chest, staring at him with furious eyes, the loneliness and frustration of the past few days tumbling out in a sob. “You’re ruining my life. I want you out of my house. I want you to leave! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Why? Why? Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to be bound to you? Do you think I like it that I can smell you from where I’m sitting, and all I can think about is burying my body inside of yours?
You think I want you in my head…in my heart?
” He choked on the word heart like it was acid in his mouth, and it made her wince.
“Damn it, Darcy! I get it. You left me to die in that water. Believe me, I’d leave you alone if I could! ”
His voice had picked up volume and momentum as he spoke, and he almost spat out his last few words.
He had also slid closer to her as he spoke, and she could feel the heat being thrown off his body as she continued to stare out the window, forcing herself to remain calm, despite the direct effects of his words.
He was right.
She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
Her body screamed for his, and her heart beat for him with the same fierce, unspeakable longing she heard in his voice.
Her insides throbbed with the physical memory of him moving inside of her, bringing her to peak after peak of perfection.
The swirling and tingling began low in her belly just in response to his words—his angry, passionate, inadvertently loving words.
She was wet and ready for him, despite everything.
Despite the fact that they had no future together.
Somewhere in her mind, she also processed his words. Believe me, I’d leave you alone if I could. She couldn’t deny they hurt. Even as she pushed him away with both hands, she wanted him to want her. She wanted him to love her. She longed for it. She hungered for it.
She leaned the slightest bit forward, toward his body, watching his face, his lips, suddenly needing reassurance, suddenly needing to know that he loved her as much as she loved him.
Not because he was compelled to through the binding, but because he wanted to love her, because he was powerless to stop his heart from belonging to her.
She closed her eyes, felt her resistance buckling.
Her mind roared a warning. No! No, Darcy. You don’t want the life he can offer you. No! Tell him you don’t want him.
She pulled back quickly, jerking her eyes open, confusion making her voice wobbly and her words weaker.