Tempt Me with Darkness (Doomsday Brethren 1)

“I’m a little tired,” she admitted. “But I’ll be fine. I want to see my gallery, put out your carvings. Pleeeaaaase?”

With a sigh, Marrok pointed to the keys in the ignition, then stalked to the passenger’s side, dragging his feet like a man heading to the noose. Damn, he missed horses.

Inside the vehicle, Olivia gripped the wheel and started the car, backing out smoothly down the long dirt path to his cottage. With a competent, quick turn, she found the wider path to the main road. In moments, they were headed on the M23 highway to London.

He was impressed. “You drive much better than Bram.”

“I’ll bet he’s reckless.”

“As if human life has little value.”

Olivia shook her head. “Terrified of cars, but willing to practically slice off your arm. That’s pretty whacked.”

“I am not terrified. Warriors are never terrified.”

“Yeah?” She laughed. “The white knuckles on the dashboard are a dead giveaway.”

He glared at her—his best warrior stare. She grinned.

“Let’s go to the gallery first, I think. I want to set these carvings out before opening.” She paused. “You know, Sabelle doesn’t need to come watch the shop. I’m fine now. I can work—”

“That was not our bargain. I want you healthy and protected. Do you want the carvings?”

“Yes,” she huffed. “Tyrant.”

“Indeed. You will tire quickly, so you will take proper care.”

“Meaning the frequent sex you talked about?”

“If that is what you require, I will care for you.”

“Funny.” Olivia groaned. “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?”

“Arthur’s entire army, including Arthur himself.”

She turned to him with a rapt expression that he felt all the way to his cock. Would she never cease to fascinate him?

“What was he like?”

“Arthur? Noble. Genuinely good. Crushed by Guinevere’s betrayal. Camelot’s end was a tragedy, brought on largely by Morganna.”

“You really hate her?”

“With everything inside me.”

She frowned. “But without her curse, you’d be long buried and gone. Isn’t there some part of you that’s happy to still be alive? You’ve lived history, not just read about it.”

The only reason he had to be glad for life now was her, Morganna’s descendant.

Dear God, had he sunk that far already? He must take care. It was possible that Olivia could practice the kind of deceit Morganna and her father had. But then, why did she not simply steal the book? Why try to help him find the origin of the symbol?

“For centuries, I have sought nothing more than to break my curse and die. I believe you and that book are the keys to doing so.”

Olivia gnawed on her bottom lip. It was clear she wanted to say something, but she apparently rejected it for something neutral.

“If that’s what you really want, I’ll help you.”

Once, he had sought little else. Now, he wondered what would become of Olivia if he died?

He glanced at her, the soft drape of dark hair over delicate shoulders, the flashing violet eyes. She looked tired, a bit pale, but her cheeks glowed with pink life. By Bram’s admission, the breaking of the bond Marrok shared with her would be temporarily painful, and she would carry a wound of grief. But their mating was new, the bond still tentative. She would survive. Even if the very thought made him seethe with a mad rage, she could mate again.

But who would protect her from Mathias?

They waded through London’s traffic and arrived at A Touch of Magic, carrying in the carvings that represented nearly two centuries of his work. He’d carved them as a talisman against solitude. As she set them on the shelves, he found himself pleased that she wished to share them with others. Perhaps they would bring joy the way Olivia had brought it to him.

Smitten fool. Allowing himself such sentiment only opened himself for heartache later.

Olivia set his carvings all over the shop, making prime places for them, adjusting the lighting. She honestly believed in his work. What had started as a way to pass time had become meaningful, and her obvious care for his pieces touched him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

She turned. “Thank you. These carvings will save my business.”

He hoped for her sake that was so. Her faith humbled him.

Before he succumbed to the urge to make love to her on the floor in front of the big picture windows, he hurried her out the door and back to the hated car.

When they arrived at her flat, Marrok exited the vehicle, rolling his shoulders in his tight shirt, flexed and fisted his hands. He would rather crawl out of his skin than ride in it again. Olivia watched him fidget with a raised brow and a smile.

Once inside, Marrok looked around the small, older unit. Her space told him a great deal about her. Even in this limited area, she had added color to every wall and window. Each room displayed her bold, modern flair, so unlike his spartan cottage.

Eventually, he followed her to her bedroom, a modern fairy tale of pinks and creams, with splashes of chocolate and an absence of lace, which he mentally applauded. There was something fresh, feminine, and mysterious about the room. Something very like her.

“You know, I could just…stay here. You don’t have to babysit me. I don’t want to be in your way. I’m feeling much better, and no one else has mistaken me for Morganna, so it’s all good. I’ll drive you back to your cottage whenever you want and meet you at Bram’s party—”

“Stop.”

She was mad if she thought he was parting ways with her now. Lord knew he needed her. She needed him, sexually if nothing else. How to tell her about their mating? He could not until he knew she was well enough to handle the news. She would likely rebel against it—and him—making both ending his curse and keeping her out of danger more difficult.

“Until my demise, I want you safe and with me, beside me at night. Under me, taking me deep. Pack whatever items you need and bring them to the cottage, love.”

Olivia flushed but looked like she thought she should refuse. Regret crossed her face. He softly covered her mouth with his own. “Please.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Never. I want you with me.” He smiled. “Who else will help me with my computer?”

A reluctant smile creased her face. “You make it hard to say no.”

“Then do not.”

The giddy joy on her face made him smile. She wanted to be with him. For now, that would do.

“I know you want me to rest, and I will. But while we’re in the city, I want to do one more thing.”

“Dare I ask?” he teased.

“I want to check out this last address the detective gave me for my father. I didn’t look before because he’s supposedly five hundred years old and I didn’t think…But maybe we’ll find him and he’ll know something about the symbol. Maybe he could help end your curse.”

If Richard Gray had once been Anarki, Marrok didn’t want Olivia looking for the man by herself. He didn’t want her looking for him at all. Too dangerous. But he had no good excuse to say no.

“Come with me?”

“Aye.”

The smile that broke out across her face blinded him with its beauty. She rushed to a little desk in the corner of her room. Pulling the drawer open, she took out a folder. “Here’s the detective’s report with the address.” With her back to him, she stuffed some clothes and personal items into a bag. “Ready?”

After a twenty-minute drive, they stopped in front of a run-down building in an east London industrial neighborhood. Gray soot and caked mud tinged the once pale walls. Black licks of charred brick were exposed around each window. Though Marrok was relieved to find no trace of Richard Gray, Olivia’s crestfallen face tugged at him.

“It caught fire. No one lives here now.”

Marrok nodded, easing his arm around her. Truly, no one lived here now. It looked to be barely standing. In fact, the whole block looked deserted. But was the blaze accident or arson?

“Does your detective have other information?”

“No. I’ll keep trying myself. I wish I knew more about the fire and if anyone…survived.”

If her father had been Anarki and turned traitor, he’d likely been burned out by the “friends” he had stabbed in the back. Marrok had no idea if her double-dealing sire had been inside, but he hoped so. Olivia had grown to a beautiful woman without him and had no need of a varlet who failed to honor his promises.

“Bram is looking as well. Mayhap he will find the man.”

She nodded. “I hope.”

He caressed her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Shall we return to the cottage, then? I want you back in bed.”

“Do you?” she asked saucily.

Indeed. Need was beginning to make his cock ache. Even simply comforting her was giving his body wicked ideas.

“Aye. Consider your health, temptress. Mere hours ago, you were very unwell.”

“Me, a temptress? Right…” She rolled her eyes.

“You. But now, you should rest.”

She flushed. “Yeah, that was some weird flu or whatever.”

“It could relapse if you do not take care.”

“You take the fun out of everything. You may not look it, but under that stud-muffin exterior, you act like an old man.”

Stud muffin? He smiled. “I am an old man.”

“I know rest is important, but we should have, like, a date. We’ve, um…shared the sheets, but don’t really know each other.”

Fate and magic had already decided that mattered not. “I thought we got on well enough.”

“In bed,” she whispered. “I don’t know that much about you. Brothers? Sisters?”

“A younger sister. Analise was always happy. I still miss her smile.” Marrok hadn’t talked about her in forever, and it felt good.

Olivia soothed him with a caress to his shoulder. “I always wanted a sister. You know stuff about my parents. What about yours?”

“My father was a warrior for his chieftain and died in battle my twelfth summer. He was rarely home, so I knew him not. My mother was sweet and even-tempered, but superstitious. She told me to avoid Morganna. Would that I had listened.”

“We’ll find answers and get you the closure you want.” Olivia paused, bit her lip. “So fifteen hundred years is a long time. You must have married a few times.”

“Never. When I was mortal, I was too busy making war.”

“And making love to whomever you wanted.”

“That, too,” he admitted wryly.

“But in later centuries, you were never tempted to marry? Take a girlfriend?”

“Nay.”

She looked shocked. “Certainly you had a relationship with someone…”

“I could give no one my body and chose not to give anyone my heart. Why bother?”

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. Marrok knew she disliked his answer. “Then why bother with me?”

How could he put this into words? “You are different.”

She raised a brow. “Because you can orgasm with me?”

“That is a plus, but not the sum of my reasoning.” For the first time in centuries, he cared about something, someone. And it scared the hell out of him.

“Or is it because I can supposedly end your curse?”

That had been her initial appeal, but now…she meant more. Did he dare tell her these new feelings he could scarcely understand? “I only know that we are connected.”

“But it’s bizarre to feel connected to someone I don’t really know. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Olivia would not be placated on this. He sighed. “How do you propose we become better acquainted?”

“I don’t know. Most people date and talk and then decide if they’re interested in more. Everything’s happened backward for us.”

“Indeed. So let us date. What shall we do?”

“It’s a beautiful day. We could explore the city together. When was the last time you really saw London?”

Marrok paused. Before the Great Fire of 1666, for sure. Flames and Sir Christopher Wren had completely changed the cityscape. “A few years.”

She shot him a leveling glare. “Which means centuries.”

How did she know him so well already?

“Aye, London has changed. I hardly need to explore it to know it is polluted with more noise and people than ever.”

She rolled her eyes. “There are so many wonderful landmarks. The Tower…”

“There I have been, and not under pleasant circumstances. You will forgive me if I wish to forgo that tour.”

Olivia knew the Tower’s reputation and laughed. “St. Paul’s Cathedral?”

He shook his head. “I was never one for religion. I preferred war.”