Tempt Me with Darkness

Think! For contrary to what Bram said, the Anarki would not be the only ones searching for the Book of Doomsday. Marrok had no doubt that Bram would use its presence under his roof as an opportunity to try to seize the book himself.



The battle today had shocked and worried Marrok, in both its scale and timing. At last night’s party, Olivia had mentally blurted out the fact that he possessed the book to many people in the room. If Bram was to be believed, two of his friends had warded off a small Anarki attack scant hours later. Not long thereafter, Olivia called her father, who had come to the cottage—with the Anarki army virtually on his heels. Coincidence?



Marrok closed his eyes. He wanted to believe so, but happenstance damned Richard Gray. Traitors could be relied upon for one thing only: to switch sides when doing so would most benefit themselves. The question was, did he include Olivia in that traitorous picture?



He didn’t want to believe Olivia capable of betrayal. Such duplicity…even pondering it hurt. But what if she had been angrier after their fight than he had thought?



Olivia was no lover of the Anarki, and her surprise at her father’s involvement with them in the past had been genuine, but how far was she willing to go to please her long-lost sire? Olivia had moved to a new country and begun a new life, simply to find parental love. He hated to believe she would cast aside her ideals to win her father’s affection…but it was possible.



Despite his doubts, when Olivia opened the bathroom door wrapped in naught but a towel, her skin steamy, a part of him wished he could write off their connection purely to magic meddling in his life again. But deep down he knew it was about Olivia. She, with her shy bravery and sassy attitude, touched something in him he had believed long dead. So sweet. Could she actually be poison? He wanted her beyond desire, needed her beyond sustenance. Did their mating affect her feelings in the same way?



Dripping wet, she clutched the towel to her bare body. “Marrok, are you okay?”



A compelling need to reaffirm her safety, to restake his claim, overcame him.



Must. Have. Her. Now!



Marrok dropped his towel from about his waist and stalked toward her. Wide-eyed, Olivia watched him approach with an intent stare and ready erection. Was he serious? She was still shaking, her mind seething with fury and terror from the battle, and foreboding for what was to come. And he wanted sex?



She muttered the first excuse that came to mind. “Marrok, I’m all wet.”



“Not as wet as you will be.”



He cut off more talk with a kiss. Fisting a desperate hand through the wet tresses at her nape, Marrok angled her face under his and devoured her.



The aggression in his touch put her more on edge, and right now, she wanted peace, perspective, to be able to think, figure out what the hell had happened and why. She didn’t want to surrender so utterly again to a man who only wanted her because she could help end his curse.



She wriggled free. “I don’t need energy right now.”



“I need to touch you.” He stroked her hip with a rough caress.



“I’m not answering your booty call just because you’re in the mood to get laid.”



His entire body tensed. His eyes narrowed. “You cheapen what we share. I do not want to simply fuck. I want you.”



“Why would you want me now? The really bad guys are after us, and before that you and I fought—”



“I cannot not touch you after seeing the Anarki pursue you so cruelly.” He clutched her nape in his grip. “And you, foolish, brave woman, did what was necessary by shooting them. It pleased me to see your fighting spirit. But had I been mortal, you would have taken ten years off my life.”



“I’m here. I’m fine.”



“Thank God.” He cupped her face in his big, rough palm. “As soon as the battle ended, I craved you. I want to know that you are alive and whole and mine.”



She bit her lip. Her belly fluttered at his possessive words. How wonderful that sounded, to belong, to be cherished. But everything he said could be just a lure to keep her close so she could help uncurse him. He had never, in fifteen hundred years, been committed to a woman. He gave new meaning to the term “eternal bachelor.” He had never been in love, and hoping she could be the one to change that would be incredibly reckless.



“We don’t have time for sex. We need to hide the book and figure out what to do next.”



“You are right.” Marrok sighed at length and donned his towel again. Then he leaned in, nearly touching her. “But hear me: Aye, we argued before the attack. You were angry with me. But that changes naught. We are mated. Once the book is hidden and we are certain we are safe for the moment, I will have you.”



Olivia swallowed. Her pulse leapt. Reckless or not, she believed—and responded to—him. The utter determination on his face, in his grip, said that somehow she mattered to him…even if she didn’t understand why.



“Is that a threat?”



“A vow. I will keep and protect what is mine.”



“Regardless of what I want?”



“Say you that you want me not?”



She couldn’t say that, not without being a liar. She yearned for him, and it wasn’t just the bond. He was stubborn and difficult…and he might be using her, but that didn’t change the fact that he was quickly working his way into her heart.



“Aren’t you being a little medieval?”



His grip tightened. “You can take the man out of the Dark Ages, but—”



“Yeah, yeah, you can’t take the Dark Ages out of the man. Nice. Let’s focus on hiding the book now. The rest, we’ll deal with later. Agreed?”



Marrok gritted his teeth, looking less than happy. “Aye.”



“We can’t go back to your cottage. I’ll bet the Anarki did a lot of damage to it looking for the book.” Olivia grimaced. “I’m sorry.”



He tensed. “Why, because you rang your father?”



“Why would that matter?” She glared at Marrok. “You can’t think my call to him brought the Anarki down on us. According to Bram, they’d already located us, remember?”



“Aye.” But he didn’t look like he appreciated the reminder. “But Richard brought more.”



“We don’t know that. I apologized because Mathias found out you had the book when I accidentally blasted the thought to everyone at Bram’s party.”



“You knew not that others could hear your thoughts. Nor did you know what your father would do with the information.”



She pulled away. “I don’t think my father had anything to do with that attack. Richard may have been with them once, but he saw the error of his ways and helped capture Mathias.”



“How do you know that, in two hundred years, Richard Gray has not changed his mind again?” He took her shoulders in his hands. “Olivia, he likely has friends on both sides. With his past associations, he has divided loyalties at best. You want so desperately to please the father you have never known to compensate for the mother who did not show you her love. I understand—”



She shook free of his touch. “Who are you now, Dr. Freud?”



“If I must be to make you see the possibility that he may not be the father of your girlhood dreams, then aye.”



“This is why you’ve never been in a relationship. You wouldn’t know someone else’s feelings if they slapped you upside the head.” She turned away with a stomp.



Marrok grabbed her arm and hauled her back. “Have you not wondered exactly from whom Mathias learned I had the book?”



She hesitated. Damn it, it was a fair question. Still, why would her father risk his life to do away with Mathias, only to go back to the dark side? “Bram said a lot of people heard my thoughts last night.”



“But your father once worked hand in hand with Mathias.”



“I don’t think he would betray us—me—like that. Shock could read my mind, too. H—he did it as we were introduced.”



“Shock is no saint, I grant you. But your father has the motive, the connections, and the history. Deceit runs in le Fay blood.”



Olivia scowled. “That’s my blood, too. Do you think I’m guilty?”



CHAPTER TWELVE



“I DID NOT SAY SUCH. I merely point out that you know Richard not,” he dodged the question. “’Tis also possible that Mathias coerced your father into compliance. He is evil in a way you can scarcely fathom.”



She frowned. “Forced. I suppose it’s possible…”



“Aye, and if he procured the book for Mathias, the wizard might well forgive your father his past transgressions. He could regain his life. No more dodging death, always watching his back. I know you dislike thinking that the fantasy father you have built in your mind may not exist, but consider that to save his hide, Richard Gray might have been willing to forfeit the daughter he hardly knew.”



“I won’t believe that without proof. Where I come from, people are innocent until proven guilty.”



Frustration roiled inside him. Every instinct screamed at him to keep her safe, yet how could he if she refused to see danger lurking in her family tree? “You have no proof he did not.”



The fury on her face reminded him that arguing was only likely to get him pushed at arm’s length and kicked out of her bed, where he could neither protect nor claim her.



“I merely ask you to consider the possibility,” he placated. “You speak true; we know not his intentions. If I knew for certain who had divulged the book’s whereabouts to Mathias, I would know better how to protect it.”



She reached for a dressing gown that Sabelle had brought earlier and tossed it on. She secured it around her, then pulled her wet towel loose, and Marrok lamented that he’d seen not one bit of her smooth, pale skin.



“True.” With her fingers, she combed the wet strands of her long, midnight hair. He yearned to help her. “But we don’t know, and we have to hide the book now.”



We. An interesting concept. Did she ask because she wished to help her mate? Would she keep the information strictly between them? Marrok hoped Olivia could see her father’s intent—whatever it was—before her desire for his acceptance put everything at risk. At least she acknowledged that Gray had potentially been coerced into betraying her. Marrok hoped that would keep her cautious.



“Indeed.”



She glanced around at the little red volume on the table. “Where? I don’t think it’s wise to hide it where we can’t guard it. Otherwise, Bram could easily find it himself.”



“I thought as much.”



Including her in the task of keeping the book hidden served multiple purposes. It kept them together. With some instruction, she could conceal the book in magical ways. And if the hiding place made it back to Richard Gray, it would tell Marrok how willing she was to please her father. That was key. Protecting and needing her, yet wondering if she would choose Gray over him would weaken Marrok. He wanted to believe in the honesty shining from her eyes. If she betrayed him…well, he would know. And the eternal misery he’d endure would be more hellish than anything he’d suffered thus far.



A brief knock sounded on the door. Marrok wrenched it open. A servant handed him clothes that Sabelle had altered to fit them. Olivia changed in the bathroom, and as he donned the trousers, he acknowledged that Bram’s sister had mastered magical domesticity.



“They fit perfectly,” Olivia said, emerging from the bathroom in a pair of jeans and a simple black V-neck T-shirt that clung to her breasts in a most enticing way.



He was doing his utmost to respect the fact that she didn’t want sex now. Wanting to hold her near and wondering if she wore a bra was making his new jeans uncomfortable. “Have you ideas where to hide the book?”



“There aren’t many places here.”



“I reached the same conclusion.”



“But I was thinking…”



Marrok braced against a repeat of her suggestion that he give the diary to Richard for “safekeeping.”



Before she could say a word, another knock on the door sounded. Marrok tugged it open with rising impatience. If Bram and his staff were going to be down his bloody throat this much, he and Olivia would have to go elsewhere just to get some damn peace.



In the threshold, Bram’s sister stood with a hesitant smile. Likely the most beautiful female he—or any other man—would ever set eyes on. She seemed the soul of kindness and gentle temper, but intelligence and cunning lay behind those lovely blue eyes.



“Oh, splendid. The clothes fit.” She smiled.



“Indeed. We thank you.”



“My pleasure. So, anyone hungry? The Anarki were very rude to pop in before you could eat breakfast.”



Olivia nodded. “Famished.”



“Breakfast will be served in a quarter hour in the dining room. Down the stairs and to your left. Follow the scent of eggs and sausage.”