Darkest Flame (23 page)

Denae moved her head to the side and sighed loudly. “Do you know the definition of personal space? Because you’ve invaded mine.”

“You should be stripping your clothes off by now,” Taraeth said in dismay as he leaned back.

Denae shrugged. “Nope. Not feeling it.”

“I will have you,” he vowed in a low voice. “I’ll take you as many times as I want, all while Kellan watches.”

“Are you so hard up for sex that you would force me when other humans fall at your feet?” Denae rolled her eyes. “I don’t see the point. As for Kellan? We had one quick roll in the hay. A one-night stand, if you will. Y’all are making more of our involvement than it is.”

Taraeth stepped back and looked at Kellan. Denae glanced at him to see Kellan casually sitting against the wall just as she had left him moments ago, both forearms resting on his bent knees. And he wasn’t even looking at her.

“You really think you hold no meaning to him?” Taraeth asked.

Denae swallowed, more hurt than she liked that he hadn’t even cared enough to be watching her. She’d expected to meet his celadon gaze and gain courage. “I know I don’t. He loathes humans. I woke him after centuries of sleep, and he was horny.”

Emil started toward her. “You’ll fall into bed with a dragon, but not us?”

Taraeth didn’t utter a word, just held out his hand for Emil to stop, which the Dark did instantly. Taraeth turned his head first one way and then the other as he regarded her solemnly.

“You intrigue me, little human. I’m not convinced you hold no emotion for the dragon, but I’ll keep you for my pleasure.”

“No.”

The word sprang from Denae, and once released, it bounced off the walls like a shot.

One of Taraeth’s black brows lifted. “No?”

“No. I don’t want you. I don’t want any of you. Find another human who does.”

Taraeth’s smile was cunning as he said, “That’s just it, little human. You pose a challenge. One I’m most eager to overcome.”

Denae wanted to scream her aggravation. She had thought to use her nonchalance to their seduction as a means of getting free. Instead, she’d sealed her own doom.

With a smile still on his face, he turned to Kellan and sent three volleys of magic, pummeling him in the head until Kellan was knocked flat.

Denae remained still, fighting the urge to run to Kellan and help. Then she remembered he was immortal, a Dragon King as old as time itself. He wasn’t the one she needed to be worried about. It was herself.

Still, it was difficult to watch him being tortured. But it was just the beginning for the both of them.

Kellan sat up, his light green eyes glaring daggers of hate at Taraeth. Kellan climbed to his feet and jerked on the chain that held him.

“I see you’re still afraid to fight a Dragon King. How do the others follow such a coward?” Kellan asked coolly, his voice belying the rage shooting from his eyes.

Taraeth slowly walked to him. “Because I hold the most power. Isn’t that why Constantine is King of Kings, ruling all of you, while your precious dragons are gone?”

“Con doesna rule me.”

“Where were the dragons sent?” Taraeth demanded.

“Somewhere you’ll never find them.”

In response, Taraeth’s hands erupted in fire and he placed them on Kellan’s shoulders. Denae bit the inside of her mouth while Kellan growled through clenched teeth as his skin burned.

The smell was awful, and she knew Kellan had to be in pain. But he never showed it.

Finally, Taraeth extinguished the flames on his hands, but let Kellan’s skin smolder. Without a pause, a long curving blade was suddenly in Taraeth’s hand. He plunged it into Kellan’s gut and twisted it.

Kellan bent over, blood gushing from the wound and dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“The first King of Kings hid something because he feared it. You’re Keeper of the History. You know what it is I seek. Tell me where it’s hidden,” Taraeth demanded.

Kellan lifted his head and smiled. “Fuck you.”

Taraeth plunged a second sword he plucked out of thin air into Kellan. Again and again Taraeth stabbed Kellan with blades until Denae only saw blood and Kellan was on his knees, still defiant.

The questions continued, each time Taraeth asking where the secret item was hidden, and each time Kellan’s response only infuriated Taraeth.

But if Denae thought she was only going to watch the torture, she was wrong. Emil came up behind her and grasped her arms in a tight, biting hold.

“Taraeth won’t be the only one you feel inside you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Rhys kept a lookout while Kiril easily broke the doorknob off the back door of a shop in the heart of Cork. They slipped soundlessly inside and headed straight for the clothes. They couldn’t just take anything.

They were going to have to infiltrate the Dark Fae in Cork, which meant dressing to impress.

“We’ll find Kellan and Denae,” Kiril whispered as he buttoned a pair of ripped designer jeans.

Rhys didn’t bother answering. He pulled a pale blue shirt off the mannequin and quickly put it on. Next, he chose a pair of dark denim.

He glanced out the store window and shook his head. “This place is infested with Dark.”

“I know,” Kiril said as he looked over his shoulder from inspecting a rack of shirts. “It makes me ill. If something isna done, this is what could become of this realm.”

Rhys couldn’t stop thinking about why the Dark would want a Dragon King. It had to involve the dragons. That was the only explanation.

He was still mulling over that fact when he found the shoes and chose a pair of leather boots in his size. After he put them on, he straightened to find Kiril waiting for him.

Rhys looked over Kiril’s burgundy shirt with a design of an eagle with its wings spread wide on the back in black velvet.

Kiril smiled. “I was trying to find one with a dragon.”

“You could always just wear a sign.”

“I already thought of that,” he teased. The smile dropped. “Ready?”

Rhys cracked his knuckles. “Oh, aye. Let’s find us some Dark Fae scum.”

*   *   *

Rhi stayed as long as she could with Denae and Kellan. Only a handful of Fae could remain invisible for an extended period of time, and when they did, they became incredibly weak.

If they appeared in the midst of an enemy, they could be cut down like a piece of grass.

Rhi didn’t want to go to Dreagan in the state she was in, but she had no other choice. They needed to know what was going on. Anytime she faced the Kings, she liked to be at her best. Right now, she was at her absolute worst.

Then she thought of Phelan and searched him out. The fact that the Warrior, an immortal Highlander who had a primeval god inside him, was half Fae helped her pinpoint him easily enough.

It wasn’t until right before she materialized that she took notice of the surroundings and found herself at … Dreagan.

She was too weak to remain incorporeal any longer. Though, she did manage to make sure she was alone in the kitchen when she dropped the veil.

Her legs began to buckle as soon as she materialized. Rhi reached for the chair to hold herself up, but she only accomplished in knocking it over as she fell to the floor in a tangled heap.

Rhi lay on the cool tiles and closed her eyes. She had never used so much of her magic at one time before, and she was paying the price for it now.

“You must be the Fae everyone is talking about.”

Rhi stiffened at the deep voice and turned her head to find deep brown eyes looking at her. His long, golden-streaked brown hair was pulled back in a queue and he wore jeans and a tight-fitting black shirt.

“And you’re Tristan.” She tried to smile, but wasn’t sure she succeeded.

He squatted beside her, his head cocked to the side as he looked anxiously at her. “You look a bit green. Should I be worried?”

“I just need a minute.” She really needed about ten years to sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen.

The sound of footsteps approaching couldn’t even get her up. She remained on her side, her cheek pressed into the tile.

“Rhi?”

She cringed at the sound of worry in Aisley’s voice. Did she look that bad? Before she could answer, Phelan’s wife was beside her.

“Rhi? What’s wrong?” Aisley asked as she smoothed aside Rhi’s hair from her face. “Phelan!”

Instantly, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. They stopped, pausing at the doorway, and Rhi knew Phelan was looking at Tristan.

Well, it was bound to happen soon enough. Con could only interfere with the Warriors and Tristan for so long. If only she felt good enough to rub it in Con’s face, but even that was too much effort.

Rhi opened her eyes and turned her head once more to Tristan who still stared at her. She’d known this time would come, and part of her hadn’t wanted to be near when it did. Still, it was past time. “Do you know Phelan, Tristan?”

Tristan glanced at Phelan, but shook his head as he turned back to her. “Nay. Do you need something to drink? To eat? You’re pale as death.”

“You might want to get that drink for yourself,” she said and tried to sit up. “You’re going to need it more than me.”

Aisley hissed Phelan’s name, and the next moment he was helping Rhi into a chair. Once she was at the table, Rhi dropped her head into her hands and wished she was returning with better news.

The quiet of the kitchen was broken by the sound of Aisley pulling out the chair next to Rhi and sitting. Phelan picked up the one she had toppled over and sank into it on Rhi’s other side, his apprehension and annoyance palpable.

“Rhi?” Phelan urged in a tight tone.

She raised her head, and though he had spoken to her, Phelan’s blue-gray eyes were focused on Tristan who walked back into the kitchen with glasses and a decanter. Rhi covered Phelan’s hand and gave it a squeeze until he looked at her. “He doesn’t know you. He remembers nothing.”

“Nothing?” Phelan asked with a deep frown furrowing his forehead. “Does Ian know?”

“No. You’re the first Warrior to see him.”

Tristan set a glass of whisky in front of her, but held onto the decanter. “And
he
is in the room with you.”

“Aye,” Phelan said and cleared his throat. “When did you arrive at Dreagan?”

“About two years ago.”

Phelan glanced at Aisley. “Are you a … Dragon King?”

“Aye,” Tristan said with a lopsided smile. “The newest.”

“Your color?”

“Amber.”

Rhi watched Phelan squeeze the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “The amber dragon. I’ve seen you fight in the battle with the selmyr.”

“Aye, and I’ve seen you. What of it?” Tristan asked.

“Because you’re tw-”

“That will come later,” Con said over Phelan.

Rhi stiffened as she felt Con’s black gaze. She grabbed the whisky and drained it, hoping it would fortify her for the inevitable battle of words. The bastard had always known how to make her hackles rise.

“Did you find them?” Con inquired.

She nodded. “They’re in Ireland, in an abandoned manor near Cork.”

“Who?” Phelan asked.

Con sighed and leaned his hands on the back of one of the chairs. “Kellan and an American named Denae Lacroix.”

Phelan’s brows lifted. “Kellan? The Kellan I’ve heard so much about? When did he wake?”

“Denae woke him,” Rhi explained. “She worked for MI5, and they sent her on a mission into his cave. To make a long story short, MI5 betrayed her, she killed her partner in a fight, and Con took her as prisoner to find out what MI5 knew.”

Con scraped back the chair on the tile and sat, a dark look directed at her. Rhi rolled her eyes and noticed one of her nails was chipped. Damn. Time for a new manicure and color then.

“Before we could get Denae out of the country with a new name and wipe her memories of us, we were attacked,” Con finished.

Phelan looked from Rhi to Con. “By who?”

“MI5.” Rhi swallowed and lifted her gaze to Phelan. “And Dark Fae.”

Phelan sat back in the chair and scrubbed his hands down his face. “Shite.”

“Did they take Kellan and Denae then?” Aisley asked, a frown marring her forehead.

Con shook his head. “We bested them at the dock, but somehow they followed Kellan to Raasay and snatched them there.”

“Hal and Laith have been filling me in on the Fae,” Tristan said. “I still say we should go after them and get Kellan and Denae.”

Rhi took the bottle of whisky from Tristan’s hand and refilled her glass, trying not to notice how her hand shook. “It will violate the treaty if you do.”

“They took one of us,” Tristan argued.

Con waved the bottle to himself, and Rhi gave it a shove across the table. He rose and found more glasses that he set on the table and then filled, handing each person one.

“It was the Dark Ones who took them,” Con said after he took a drink of his scotch. “The Light rarely pay them any heed.”

“Not true,” Rhi said angrily. “We’ve been fighting them forever, and we will go on fighting them for eternity. It is our way. Just as they’ll never defeat us, we will never defeat them.”

“And if you ever decide to join forces?” Aisley asked.

Rhi looked at Phelan’s pretty wife and shrugged. “It was tried once before. The war with the Kings. That didn’t go so well.”

“Forget about the past,” Con stated. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to help free Denae and Kellan?”

She didn’t want to fight, especially not now when she was so weary. She was too tired to trade barbs with Constantine, but she couldn’t show him any weakness. He would pounce on it, and never let her forget.

“Does your hatred make you blind?” Phelan asked Con. “Can you no’ see she’s exhausted?”

Rhi sat up straighter and forced a bright smile. “I’m fine. I came to report what I’ve found.”

“You told us where they are. Get back there and keep watch,” Con ordered.

It was too much. She’d offered to help because of her love of a Dragon King, but she wasn’t Con’s lackey to be ordered around. Rhi tried to stand, but her legs still refused to hold her. Instead, she threw her glass at him.

He leaned to the side at the last second, and it fell to the floor behind him, the crystal shattering. She couldn’t stop the wrath that filled her—nor did she want to.