Chapter 15
Marcus strolledalong the manicured courtyard, filling his lungs with the cool night air. Inside the mansion, the walls of his childhood home had closed in, urging him to escape. They’d had the same effect on him as a child.
Outside, the shadows soothed him, welcoming him as one of their own. The throbbing ache in his injured knee faded. New energy hummed in his tired muscles. In the distance, an owl hooted, declaring its territory. Night creatures stirred, preparing for a midnight hunt.
Moonlight glowed overhead. On the pathway, his shadow stretched across the stones. The dark silhouette called to him, stirring something deep inside. He reached out and—to his disgust—his shadow floated up from the ground, forming a black mist around his hand. He flicked his fingers, tossing it to the ground, where it returned to its former shape.
He clenched his fist. This ability wasn’t his but the demon’s. “Back, beast,”he commanded.“You’re not welcome here.”
“Liar,” snarled a voice from deep within his conscience.
So much for the peace and quiet. He figured the silence wouldn’t last. After the episode in the security room, he’d locked the bastard down tight, not giving the creature an inch. The prick could push through his boundaries all he wanted. One more day and he’d be rid of it, one way or another.
Marcus’s lungs expanded, pulling in the fragrant scent of roses mixed with something warm and tantalizing. He canted his head, picking up the sound of laughter.
“Hey, that tickles.” Dove’s voice carried to his ears.
Was she out here with someone? Perhaps a member of Mr. Higgin’s crew? Some grimy landscaper with a perfect, undamaged body and too eager hands? Anger hummed in his veins. His vision clouded with a red haze.
Shadows swirled around his ankles as he stormed into the rose garden. The sight that greeted him locked him in place, his anger fizzling. Dove was alone. On her head was an ivy crown. The belt on her robe had come untied. Loose fabric fluttered against her back like wings. Her lace-trimmed shift was cut low, framing the rounded swells of her breasts. The hem stopped mid-thigh, her long legs shapely and lean. His body stirred at the sight.
She was beautiful. Like a mystical woodland creature from a fairy tale. She leapt, cupping her hands together. “Gotcha.” Light blinked between her fingers, and she opened her hand. In her palm was a flickering firefly. She beamed at her prize, laughing when the little bug took flight, buzzing into the night. “Twelve down, eight more to go. It’s a shame I don’t have a jar.”
She crouched, a predatory gleam in her eyes, stalking her prey. His body hardened, his blood warming. He liked to watch this woodland goddess on her hunt. Her innocence called to him, invited him to draw closer. Unlike the other women he’d encountered, there was nothing manipulative or cunning about his Chosen. Her simplicity had him utterly mystified. She held little back. Childlike exuberance in everything she did. He imagined she’d be just as passionate, as eager to explore in all things.
“Gotcha.” She captured yet another glowing bug.
“How do you know it isn’t the same one?”
“Ah!” Dove startled, spinning around and grabbing her chest. Her firefly buzzed away. “By the fates, you gave me a heart attack.” She exhaled in a rush, shoulders slumping.
“Apologies.” He winced. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He reached for a hood that wasn’t there, his cowl left behind in his room. Of course she was startled. His face was the stuff of nightmares. He drew back, sliding deeper into the shadows. “I’ll leave you to your game.”
“No.” She rushed to his side, capturing his hand much as she had her fireflies. “Don’t go. It’s more fun to play with a partner. Bet you I can catch ten before you.”
He peered down at her shining face, unable to resist the imploring expression she offered him. He’d never chased fireflies, not even as a child. There was always too much studying and training to be done. For some reason, she took his silence as agreement.
“Ready, set, go,” she said in a rush before darting away.
“What is the point of this game?” He folded his arms, watching her snag her first bug.
“It’s fun,” she declared, leaping to reach a flickering light over her head. Her unhindered breasts bounced with the exertion. The thin silk clung to her pert nipples. His mouth went dry.
“You look”—enchanting—“ridiculous.” She moved like a dancer, lithe and expressive. I could watch her for hours. He winced. Where did that thought come from? “Demon?”
Silence.
The thought was his own. Was he truly at a point where he couldn’t differentiate his own thoughts from the spirits?
“Three,” she called out, distracting him from his worries. “Better hurry, slowpoke.”
Her mocking tone poked at his competitive nature. He’d show her slowpoke. With predatory eyes, he catalogued several targets. Then, with a burst of supernatural speed, collected them all. He sped to a stop directly in front of her.
“Oh my gosh!” She grabbed her heaving chest. “Where the heck did you come from?”
He smirked and held out his upturned fists to her, then slowly unfurled his fingers. In his palms were ten fireflies. Dove’s open-mouthed stare was all the reward he needed. Their glowing bodies illuminated her awestruck face.
“But you… but that’s…” She planted her hands on her hips, trying to look angry, though her smile gave her away. “You cheated.”
“I win.”
“Plfft,”She blew a raspberry and stormed away in a huff. “Fine. You win. Come sit with me. I need to catch my breath, though I doubt you have the same problem. That bum leg of yours seems to be behaving itself tonight.”
Huh. So it was. He’d no need for his cane since… since he’d stepped into the shadows and the demon surfaced. He gritted his teeth.
“Need me,” snarled the smug voice he’d come to hate.
“Be gone,” he sent a mental snarl in return. He’d not have the creature spying on his time with Dove. Bastard was already far too possessive with her.
When silence followed, Marcus settled beside his Chosen on the stone bench. “You’ve been busy.” He brushed a silken curl back from her forehead, guiding it under her ivy crown. In this moment, she looked every bit the part of the woodland faerie. Ethereal. Beautiful.
“Oh, that.” She patted her creation, cheeks darkening. “Just a little something I whipped up.”
“Trouble sleeping?”
“Trouble working. I needed a break.”
“How’s it going?”
“I think I’ve found everything I need. I’m just double and triple-checking. This is too important to mess up.”
“You won’t,” he assured her because the thought of her failure was too much to consider. He had too much riding on her success.
“Right,” she muttered in an unconvincing manner. Then she brightened, gazing out at the garden. “Did you ever come here as a child?”
“Sometimes. This was my mother’s special place. When I wasn’t with my tutors, I’d sneak out to watch her in her garden. It was the only time she let her guard down.” Here, beside Dove, he found himself doing the same, his damaged muscles relaxing.
She darted an apprehensive glance to one of the hedges and back. “Your mother. I, uh…” Her plump lips opened and shut. Then she exhaled, shaking her head.
“Something wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said a bit too brightly. “Why do you suppose this is the only place she could be herself?”
At her question, his lips curled. It wasn’t surprising that Dove would find it hard to understand. From what he’d seen, she was herself every moment of the day. “Appearances had to be kept at all times. Even in front of the staff.” He snapped a long-stemmed rose from the bush beside him and handed it to her.
“It’s a shame your mother felt she couldn’t relax in her own home.” Dove accepted the gift, pressing her face to the bloom and breathing deep.
“One must appear to be in complete control at all times, otherwise enemies will take advantage of your weakness.” His uncle’s teachings echoed in his head. “Those who are vulnerable become targets. Targets wind up dead.” Marcus had never been more vulnerable than he was right now. The bull’s-eye Helen had painted on his chest grew larger with every passing moment.
Dove lowered her head, toying with the rose’s petals, saying softly, “Is that what happened to your parents? Someone targeted them?”
“They were killed within a year of each other. They trusted the wrong people and were betrayed. When I was old enough, I made sure the male who was responsible paid for his crimes. Then I claimed my rightful position as Lord of House Othonos.”
She peered up at him, studying his tightening countenance before frowning. “Well, I, for one, find appearances completely overrated.” She sprang from the bench and thrust out her rose sword. “Even if I was the picture of strength and vitality. Hi ya!” She stabbed her invisible attacker, blooms tumbling. “Those with power would still try to smash me under their thumbs.”
“That’s because you foster a prey mentality when you could be a predator.” He’d seen her tests’ scores. If she were any more powerful, the Council would have executed her. What a loss that would have been. He shook his head at his own musings. If he wasn’t careful, she’d have him quoting poetry to her.
“Ha! Me? A predator?” She snorted, then catching his scowl, smacked her hand over her mouth. “Oh, sorry. You were serious.”
“You have a tremendous gift. Power over the spirit realm. You could do incredible things with it if you desired.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved her flower at him. “That’s what the Council wants everyone to believe so they can keep faeries under their control. Seriously, what would I want with world domination? Sounds like a lot of work to me. All those enslaved souls depending on you, all that responsibility. No, thanks.”
He studied her, bemused. No, he imagined Dove would have little use for world domination. She was a wildflower blowing in the wind, flying wherever it took her. To his surprise, he rather liked that about her. Most of the people he spent time with needed something from him. Most were power hungry, driven by a thirst for more. Dove seemed to want for little.
“Oh shoot.” She winced, examining her finger.
Marcus’s nostrils flared. Her delicious scent rolled through his system. He was on his feet before he registered the action.
“My rose bit me.” She held up her injured finger. “See, even the flowers are higher on the food chain than I am.”
“Let me see,” he said, clasping her hand. On her index finger was a single drop of crimson. Heavenly temptation. He remembered how sweet her blood was when he’d claimed her. He’d resisted ever since, not wanting to bind them any deeper, though the demon had no such qualms. Here in the garden, with the moonlight shining on her hair, Marcus’s resolve weakened. One little drop wouldn’t do any harm.
“Shall I?” He peered into her eyes and she stared back, plump lips parted. Her chest still as she held her breath.
“Yes, please,” she said, her tone breathy.
He guided her wounded digit into his mouth, closing his lips around her slim finger. Her tantalizing flavor hit his tongue like a punch to the gut. His eyelids grew heavy, a hoarse groan rolling up his throat. He kept his gaze locked with hers, twirling his tongue.
Her glassy eyes locked on his mouth, and she leaned closer, watching him with bated breath. When he was done toying with her, he slowly drew her finger from his mouth. Clenched her hand, kissed her knuckles.
“All better,” he said in a rasping tone.
“Huh?” Dove continued to stare at his mouth, her eyes glazed.
“Your finger.” He grinned. “It’s all better.”
“Uh-huh.” She stepped closer, pressing her lace-clad chest to his.
He sucked a breath at the contact. Rather than push her away, he held his breath, curious to see what she would do. With her free hand, she cupped his uninjured jaw, brushing her thumb over his bottom lip.
“I like to see you smile,” she said.
Yearning burned in her eyes. Yearning for him? His body tightened. If she were anyone else, he’d believe her interest was feigned, that she desired something from him. Except this was Dove. He reveled in her attraction, savoring the emotion.
His hands had a mind of their own, dipping beneath her robe, circling her silken back. She slid her arms around his shoulders, caressing the side of his neck. That innocent touch had his insides unfurling. He wanted to rub his face into her palm like a contented cat.
She shivered, her nipples pearling against his chest. “You’re so warm. I didn’t realize how cool the night had become.”
Heat blazed through his veins. She stoked a fire inside of him that he was helpless to resist.
Her form was slight and soft in his arms. Feminine. Tempting. Would she reject him if he kissed her? Most found his appearance appalling, himself included. Before he could overthink it, he lowered his head, giving her plenty of time to come to her senses.
Instead of retreating, she tipped her face, meeting him halfway. Their mouths melded, her plump lips pressing against his. His body hardened at the simple contact, his shaft straining against her stomach. She gasped against his mouth and clung to his neck. He increased his assault, teasing her lips with his tongue. She opened eagerly for him and he stroked her tongue as he did her injured finger, her lips just as sweet as her blood.
His hands wandered, hungry for more of her silken skin, and found their way beneath the hem of her short gown. Rather than reject his touch, again, she did the unexpected, curling her leg around his hip. He gripped her backside, running his fingers beneath the edge of her panties. She ground her hips into his straining erection, and the scent of her arousal had his eyes rolling back. This female truly desired him. How was that possible? The male he used to be would have stripped her bare and taken her right there. He wasn’t that male anymore. His stomach sank at the reminder. Sex with Dove would bind them even deeper than taking her blood.
He summoned his last thread of willpower and broke their kiss. Dove tucked her head beneath his chin, panting. Gently, he released her thigh, guiding her quivering leg to the ground. He held her to his chest. Afraid of what he would find, he looked at her face. His ears twitched, his insides withering. Was that a giggle?
Dove snickered, leaning back, smoothing the front of his shirt. “Well, Lord Steele. If I’d known how skilled you were, we’d have done that a long time ago.”
Wait. She wasn’t disgusted now that she’d regained her senses? He dared a glance down. Dove peered up at him, adoration in her eyes. Contented smile on her lips. As usual, everything she was feeling was written on her face. She didn’t hate what just happened between b. His thoughts tumbled. Did he?
As he pondered this, he spotted the shadows swirling around them. He tensed, snapping his arms around her.
“What’s wrong?” Dove glanced over her shoulder, picking up on his alarm.
“Behind you.”
She turned in his embrace, putting her back to his chest, breathing, “Whoa. Look at that. Are you doing that?”
“It’s him,” he growled. It figured when Marcus was distracted, the bastard tried to take advantage.
Dove stretched her arm into the swirling mist.
“Dove, no,” he growled, too late.
Shadows twirled around her wrist and slid up her forearm. Black turned to deep shades of purple and midnight blue as the shadows caressed her skin. The demon was putting on a show for her. Before Marcus could react, jerking her to safety, it slid away. The swirling shadows dissipated, sliding back where they belonged, beneath trees and hedges. To the dank places none dared to tread.
“That was incredible,” Dove gasped.
Her delight filled him with disgust. The demon was wooing her, and the little idiot was falling for it. He pushed her away from him, raking his shaking hand through his hair. “Incredibly stupid.”
She spun to face him, smile fading. “Excuse me?”
“You had no idea if it would harm you. Yet you put yourself in danger. For what? Morbid curiosity?” Was that why she’d kissed him? Were her desires twisted?
Dove tucked the edges of her robe around her like armor and lifted her chin. “I was in no danger unless you intended me harm. The spirit is part of you. You are a part of him. Given what we were doing when it appeared, I didn’t perceive any threat.”
Of course she didn’t because she’d grown attached to the bastard. Felt affection for a creature that may very well ruin Marcus’s life. Her divided loyalties stung. “This was a mistake.” He never should have let his guard down around her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you ever think your issue isn’t the problem? Instead, it’s your reaction to the problem that’s the issue?”
What nonsense was she inflicting on him now? He glared at her. “I’ve little patience with riddles, and you’ve no time for them. Get back to work.” He flung out his arm, gesturing to the gate. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to rid me of this disgusting creature.”
“Yes, Lord Steele,” she bit out, turning on her heel, stomping away. “It’s a shame the exorcism won’t do anything to extract that enormous stick you have up your butt.”
And he would love nothing more than to tan hers. He studied the angry twitch of her hips. Even in his anger, his body stirred. Perhaps once his demon was gone, he’d give the defiant faerie what she deserved.