The Darkening (11 page)

"Do you have just the four brothers?"

He nodded. "What about you? Any brothers or sisters?"

"One sister. Beverly. We were twins." She felt the familiar ache she always felt when she thought of her sister.

Darius put down his pizza and gave her his undivided attention. "Were?"

"Yeah. She died a year ago from complications during surgery." She hadn't planned to say any more about it than that, but he listened with such empathy and attention that soon she was pouring out the entire story. Before long, she even lost her resolve not to cry, and a single teardrop rolled down her cheek.

Embarrassed, she brushed it aside and took a breath. "Wow-I bet that was more than you wanted to know. Tell me about you. These tattoos, for instance She reached out to touch the dagger on his arm and then stopped short. "Is it safe to touch?"

"Probably not."

"I'm sorry?" He'd spoken so softly that even with her lupine hearing, she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.

"Nothing," he told her, holding out his arm. "You can touch it."

She laid a finger against the blade of the dagger tattoo. Part of her expected to feel cool metal, and she was a little surprised when she felt the warmth of his skin instead. Intrigued, she traced her finger along the length of the blade until she heard his quick intake of breath. She looked up, and the heat of his gaze nearly singed her.

She had to try twice before she could find her voice. "How do they work?"

"They morph into the real thing when I need them to. My mother, Sekhmet, has a bad temper, which makes for many enemies. For her, every day has the potential to be a battle, and she doesn't believe in going unprotected. She wanted me to always be prepared, so she made me a gift of these tattoos."

"Do they hurt?"

"You mean when they morph and become real? No. I hardly notice it."

She picked up his arm, wanting a closer look at the dagger. As she moved it this way and that, she was barely aware of how intimately she was touching him.

"Do you want to hold it?" he asked her, his voice sounding strained.

Her gaze snapped to his, wondering if he was actually referring to the dagger-or to something else. She decided it was only her depraved mind that gave the question double meaning.

"Yeah," she replied, unable to keep from sounding just a little breathless.

He chuckled at her reaction and placed his hand over the handle of the dagger. She noticed that the air above it shimmered slightly right before the image sharpened. Then he was suddenly holding the actual dagger in his hand. He flipped it around and handed it to her.

Its weight surprised her. Flipping it over, she watched the light play off the metal blade. It was as real a dagger as she'd ever seen, representing lethal power, danger and excitement all in one. Just like the man.

She knew it was the influence of the full moon making her all too aware of the man, but that didn't mean she could stop noticing.

She handed the dagger back and watched as he touched it to his skin, where it shimmered and faded until it was the tattoo once more.

"What exactly is that dragon on your chest?" she asked, when her gaze traveled over the small tattoo. "I think it scared Paddy sober." She gave a small laugh, but then saw him looking down at her with slightly raised eyebrows. "Okay, okay. It scared me too," she admitted. "A little. What is it?"

"It's Fury."

"Excuse me?"

He smiled. "That's what I call him." He turned toward her so she could get a closer look at the tattoo. Sitting this close to him, she was overwhelmed by his strength, his vitality-in short, by him.

She tried to hide her reaction by examining the tattoo. Looking closer, she was impressed with its detail. Even when it was small like this, no bigger than the size of her closed fist, it was intimidating.

"It's a demon."

Her eyes snapped up to his face in surprise. "A demon?"

"His real name is Fuhramek. He's the last of the Bocca demons. About six hundred years ago, he was terrorizing one of the Immortal realms, so I went to get rid of him. We were locked in battle for close to a year."

"What? Do you mean you fought off and on for a year?"

"No, I mean we fought-no breaks, no food, no

sleep, no nothing-for a solid year."

"But how can that be? Without food or water

you'd..." She suddenly realized how it was possible.

"You were both immortal, so you couldn't die."

"Being immortal doesn't mean that by the end of a year of fighting we weren't in bad shape. We became too weak to fight any longer. We agreed on a temporary stay so we could recuperate, after which time we would return to resume the fight."

"You trusted him to show up?"

Darius smiled. "The Bocca demons aren't like typical demons. They lived by a very strict code of ethics. If Fuhramek said he'd be back, then I knew he'd show up." His eyes took on a distant look. "I left-went home, ate, slept and regained my strength. When I went back to resume the fight a year later, I found Fuhramek looking worse than I'd left him. He told me that when I left, the portal had shut, and because it had been created from the energy of living magic,

he-a death-magic creature-couldn't open it without expending great energy-which he didn't have. He'd been stuck there the entire time."

"So you killed him and turned him into a tattoo?" Lexi asked.

He gave her a sharp look. "I too live by a code of ethics. No, I didn't kill him. I freed him from the dimension so he could regain his strength."

"Why? If you were just going to try to kill him, why help him get stronger?"

"Destroying an enemy too weak to fight is a slaughter-there's no honor in that."

She felt the conviction behind his words, appreciating for the first time what a man of conviction and morals he really was.

"What happened?"

"The extra year had made him too weak to travel home. Because all demons feed off the energy of living magic, I allowed him to feed off me to regain his strength. I knew he wouldn't try to kill me by taking all my energy, because there would be no honor in it for him. It was a slow process, and as time passed, we forgot our differences and talked. I guess we became friends. I learned that he was in that other dimension because he was trying to get home. So, in the end, instead of fighting him, I helped him get home. Only it turned out there was no home."

Darius took a deep breath as if remembering that time. "Sometime while he and I had been fighting, another demon race came along and destroyed his home dimension, leaving Fuhramek the last of his kind. I took him back home with me, but he wasn't comfortable being among the gods and goddesses of Ravenscroft. He was going to leave, and that's when we realized the harm I had done by allowing him to feed off my energy. Instead of restoring him back to health, I'd given him a life-long addiction to my immortal life force. Though he tried, he could no longer exist on his own. After a while, he started taking the form of one of my tattoos just so he could stay in contact with me."

Lexi stared at the tattoo. "Doesn't it hurt to have something that is death magic fused to your body?"

Darius smiled. "After all these centuries, I don't think there's much death magic left to him."

She mentally shook her head. It was just so different from anything she was used to. She dragged her attention away from his mouth and moved on to the coil across his stomach. "What about this? This is the rope you used on Paddy, isn't it?"

"Yes. The magic behind it allows it to assume and retain the shape I want it to, despite what others try to do to it."

"And this one?"

One by one, she touched the tattoos on his chest, listening to the stories behind their origin, though she was only listening with half a mind. The rest of her thoughts were focused on the feel of his skin, his scent and the sheer magnetism of the man himself.

"What about these?" she asked, touching the lightning bolts on his shoulder, unknowingly leaning toward him as he faced her on the couch.

His gaze met hers, and she could barely focus on his answer. "Those are a gift from the sun god, Re. They're some of his fire bolts."

Aware of just how close they were sitting, she wet her lips and tried to refocus her thoughts on the tattoos. "What about this one?"

When she touched the golden serpent over his chest, he shivered.

"It's new," he whispered, leaning forward to close the small space between them. "And I don't want to talk about tattoos anymore."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Darius's lips felt moist and warm as they captured hers. Instantly the hunger inside her raged out of control and she clutched at him, returning his kiss with a nearly frenzied intensity.

He grabbed her to him, and she ran her hands along his broad shoulders before embracing him.

"You taste so good." Darius's voice sounded husky. He let go of her long enough to reach between them and started working at the buttons on her shirt. The backs of his hands brushed against her aching breasts while he worked, and Lexi felt her nipples harden in response.

She couldn't stop a small groan from escaping, and it seemed all the encouragement he needed. Grabbing the front edges of her shirt, he ripped it open. Immediately she felt the cool air caress her overheated skin. He pushed her shirt back, baring her shoulders, then lowered his head to kiss the swell of her breasts. When he cupped her, his hands felt warm through the thin

fabric of her bra.

She fought to free her arms from her shirt and then quickly unclasped her bra. As Darius pulled it off, she had a moment's hesitation. What was she doing?

As soon as Darius's mouth covered one of her nipples, all conscious thought fled and she could only react to the flicking of his tongue across her nipple and the tremors racing through her body.

He suckled her until she felt the moisture gather between her legs. Need pulsed through her, hot and insistent. She struggled to reach the waistband of his pants, but figuring out the foreign clasp was beyond her ability for rational thought.

"Off," she gasped.

He left her long enough to stand, and she watched unashamedly as he pushed his pants down his legs, much too slowly for her taste.

Lexi swallowed hard at the sight of his engorged shaft. Then the wolf in her rose, and inside her head she released a primal mating howl.

When Darius reached for her, she placed her hands in his and let him pull her to her feet. He made short work of her jeans, and when they pooled at her feet, he gathered her naked body close. She reveled in the hard warmth of him and felt the length of his shaft pressing insistently against her, throbbing with a need and life of its own.

"Bedroom," he demanded, lifting her into his arms. "Hallway. Last door on right," she directed between a frenzy of kisses.

As soon as they reached her room, they fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Almost immediately his shaft probed the juncture of her
legs, and she opened for him. When he pushed into her, she gladly welcomed him. Still kissing her, he proceeded slowly,

filling her inch by delicious inch. Deeper and deeper he went until she could take no more. Then, with aching slowness, he withdrew. She clutched his shoulders in a frenzy as the sensation of his length rubbing against her created a friction that nearly undid her. Every fiber of awareness centered on the tension building inside her.

Before he could completely pull out, he drove himself forward. Then once again, slowly, he withdrew. Each time he pulled away, he reached between them and began pleasuring her most sensitive spot until her inner core cried out for him to fill her once more. He continued this way until she thought she would burst into a thousand pieces. She fought against her impending orgasm, wanting this moment to last as long as possible.

When Darius began to slow his movements, she thought it might be another tactic to prolong the experience. She opened her eyes to glance at his face and saw that his eyes were glazed over-with passion, she presumed, and privately reveled in her effect on him.

Then, to her amazement, Darius flipped them over without pulling out. Now she was on top, straddling his hips as he lifted her up and then let her slide down his erection.

Though her eyes were closed, she felt him shudder, and when she rolled her hips, he released a groan of pleasure. Setting her own rhythm, she milked the experience for all she could. When her orgasm hit, it was like a tidal wave slamming into her, taking her breath away.

As she gradually came back to her senses, she noticed Darius had grown very still beneath her. She was fairly certain he hadn't found his own release and wondered if he might be allowing her this moment to enjoy hers to its fullest before seeking his own pleasure. It was an unexpected, selfless gesture, and she opened her eyes, wanting to see his face when she thanked him.

At first, she thought he'd merely closed his eyes too, focusing, like her, on the physical aspects of their lovemaking. After a moment, though, when he still didn't look at her, she noticed his low, steady breathing, and the horrible truth finally dawned on her. He was asleep.