The Darkling's Desire
Автор
Lauren Hawkeye
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Chapter One
Anastasia Duras had been born to kill.
The thought reverberated through her mind as she twisted her body into the impossibly complicated ustrasana yoga pose, her muscles quivering like jelly. It was not until the quivering turned into the unbearable heat of a serious burn that she relaxed, dropping to the ground with the grace of a predatory cat.
She had started practicing yoga in her teens, on the advice of her mentor, twisting her body into complicated poses before every training match. Yoga helped her to focus before she zeroed in on a target. It cleared her mind, let her training take over.
Kill or be killed. The mantra had been ingrained in her since birth. Though this was only her second mission, she knew what she had to do.
Find and kill the rogue Darkling.
She had no idea why she, of all the Amazons, had been chosen for this mission. Though it was not spoken of loudly, she had heard the whispers, the ones that spoke of the discovery of a rare Witchling and his Darkling love.
This Darkling was her target. She had no idea what the Witchling would do, could do, to keep his lover safe.
Running a hand over the blunt edges of raven dark hair that fell just below her ears, Anastasia rolled her head from side to side, working out a kink in her neck before crouching down in the damp leaves that covered the ground. Esme’s Magic Emporium backed onto a small forested area, and though it was late fall and the leaves that should have dangled from above instead carpeted the frozen ground beneath her feet, she was still grateful for the cover.
Ignoring the little voice in her head that said she was no match for this mission, Anastasia slowly breathed in, then out. She imagined herself in one of her intense training sessions back in Lviv, pictured herself hiding in the densely forested Carpathian mountains that were her home.
She could overcome the stiffness that wanted to take over her legs, could ignore the numbness that crept into her fingers from the moist evening chill.
This might have been her first real mission, and she might have a ball of nerves wound tight in her belly, but she was not afraid of Darklings as a species—they were the vampires of legend, the ones who drank blood, true, but they were not collectively evil. No, they had the good and the bad in their ranks, as did humans, and she had been raised with this knowledge. Her people honored a long-held pact with their council, after all.
Still, her nerves skittered beneath her skin like a thousand tiny spiders. Though she was a Carpathian Amazon, a warrior trained to hunt and kill the rogue Darklings, and though she had excelled at her training, she had never actually killed a sentient being before.
She had been born to kill. And kill was exactly what she had to do.
* * *
Jasper Nagorsky perched high in a barren oak tree, staring down at the small figure huddled in the leaves. Having heard the heartbeat as soon as he’d come close to the magic store, he had secured his vantage point in the sturdy branches. The tree supporting his weight was devoid of green, but it was closely surrounded by conifers.
He knew that the creature below him hadn’t detected his presence as he had detected its.
The heartbeat didn’t sound entirely human, and he thought for a minute that it might belong to his quarry. Dr. Gavin Thibodeau was a newly turned Witchling. The organization that Jasper worked for—the Karpaty Council—wanted to know more about this rare and lethal creature, this creature that had become a legend in recent times.
Jasper absently rubbed his fingers over the rough surface of the tree bark as he watched and waited to see what the creature below him would do. He understood the importance of his mission. This Witchling had annihilated a dozen Darklings at once, turned them to ash. He had powers that Jasper could not even dream of, and also the advantage of walking during the day. His thirst was slight enough to drink only every few weeks.
Jasper had different talents. Trained as a soldier, a veteran of World War II, he had quickly shown an aptitude for uncovering hidden information—things that others did not want known. His current mission was the same—gather information and report back.
He was very good at what he did. But nothing in his long memory clicked with the creature huddled on the damp ground. He peered through the fine mist, could now see the strands of dark hair clinging to rosy cheeks. It was a woman.
Because the Witchling doctor’s schedule at the hospital had become erratic since his turning, Jasper had thought it more expedient to stake out the place of employ of the doctor’s lady love. Aubrey Hart was a doctor herself, but as a fairly newly turned Darkling, she had chosen a new path…away from the constant scent of blood, he assumed, and wisely so.
He well remembered the thirst he’d experienced as a newborn. He assumed that she was working at Esme’s store in exchange for guidance through her difficult transition. Though Esme was human, she knew more about the supernatural than even many old vampires did.
The newly born Aubrey was classified as a rogue Darkling, one who had bucked the council’s orders. A salesperson in a magic shop was a curious choice for someone with the balls to go against the council.
Pulling a strip of the bark from the tree to worry with his fingers, he wondered what would become of her. There weren’t many who disobeyed the Karpaty Council and lived to tell stories about it.
Jasper also wondered about the fate of the woman below him. If she detected his presence, she would be an encumbrance to his mission. And he would have to kill her. He didn’t like killing. He’d done it—he was a Darkling, after all, as well as a soldier—but he regretted every life he’d been forced to take.
Watching the woman now, he was almost inclined to think that she was just a human, one with a very slow metabolism, but both her slender frame and her focused stillness discouraged that notion.
No, she was more than human. He was sure of it. And if she was here, in the exact spot as he, he would have bet that her purpose had something to do with either the doctor or his Darkling.
Since he was here to monitor the Witchling, then she must be here for the Darkling. His ego was large enough not to even consider that the council would send someone else on his mission. His curiosity was piqued. He had heard talk of a group of women who lived in the mountains outside of Lviv and were trained to hunt and kill the rogue Darklings. He was aware now that a former lover of his had been one, though he hadn’t known at the time.
Not that it would have changed anything between them.
The reams of information swirling in his busy mind told him that this must be who this woman was—an Amazon warrior. But under his intense scrutiny he saw that she shifted slightly in her crouch, clearly uncomfortable from holding the posture. Her hand lifted to tuck an errant strand of liquorice-black hair behind her ear before darting back down to her lap, as if someone has verbally reminded her not to fidget.
She was either very new at this job, or not very good at it—Amazons were rumoured to possess a fierceness to rival that of his own species. This was the being that had been sent to take care of the Darkling? His brow furrowed as he tried to work through the puzzle.
The tinkle of a light as fairy dust bell rang out across the breeze, followed by the distinct sound of a heavy door opening and closing. A very human woman with long scraggly hair that belonged in another decade, and floral printed clothing to match, exited the magic store and walked away down the street, her unseasonal sandals slapping against the soles of her feet as she moved.
The noise jolted Jasper out of his reverie. He was here to gather information. The shop was now empty, the Darkling alone inside. The workday was drawing to a close, and Jasper suspected that the Witchling would come for his woman soon.
His suspicions were usually on the right.
Keeping himself wrapped in shadows, he jumped from the tree, landing on his feet like an animal. Though he forced himself to keep his eyes from the woman across the parking lot, he saw in his peripheral vision that she started when he landed, a wicked-looking blade appearing suddenly in her right hand.
So he had been right—she had some powers that were more than human. She would never have heard his descent otherwise.
Closing his eyes and inhaling air that he no longer needed to breathe, he told himself for the third time since discovering the woman to focus.
No matter how much she intrigued him, for he had always loved a puzzle, he had a job to do.
* * *
Anastasia shifted uneasily in her crouch, trying to ignore the fact that she could no longer feel the tips of her fingers.
Minutes earlier she had heard a noise that sounded like a footfall—a creature landing on the ground. Though her eyes, her ears, her every sense failed to detect anything, she knew that she hadn’t imagined it.
Squinting, straining, she scanned the empty lot and once again saw nothing. But…was that.... yes! There was a low murmur of voices, barely audible through the back door of the shop. But they were there, she was sure of it.
Cursing, Anastasia made her way carefully to that closed door. Pressing her ear to the cool steel, the voices became louder—one male, one female.
Furious with herself, she fumbled for the blade that she had replaced in its worn sheath only moments before. The Witchling, Gavin Thibodeau, must have gotten past her somehow. How was she going to assassinate the female Darkling now? She should have just gone in and done the job straightaway, instead of waiting, hiding, gaining her bearings.
Lesson learned. But she still hadn’t accomplished what she had come here to do. Inhaling deeply, she backed up, then sprang at the door with her black-booted foot outstretched.
She was gratified when it flew open beneath her kick, though the resultant shock was felt all the way up into her torso. But at least she had done it right.
Two startled and wary faces greeted her as she burst forth into the cluttered room. Aubrey Hart, the former doctor turned newly made Darkling, stood with her palms planted on the ornately carved wooden counter. She displayed the innate stillness of her kind. Anastasia had seen photos of the woman, but she hadn’t been prepared for the innocence that the creature displayed. With her cascade of honeyed hair and wide azure eyes she looked nothing like the evil rogue that Anastasia had expected.
This was who she was supposed to kill?
Stalling for time as her mind sorted that one out, Anastasia shifted her stare to the other being in the room. She pegged him instantly as another Darkling, but he was a stranger to her. With his head cocked slightly to one side, he studied her as if she were a bug under a microscope…or as if he were taking her clothing off, piece by piece.
He was hot. She noted this as completely as she had noted Aubrey’s unease, but she tried to shove that thought right out of her head.
It had no bearing on her mission.
Instead she focused on his special skills. Did he have more speed than the average Darkling? She hadn’t learned of anything of the kind.
From the corner of her eye Anastasia saw Aubrey lick her lips once, slowly, and saw the woman’s blue eyes fasten on the pulse throbbing, slow and steady, in Anastasia’s neck.
Shit. She was in way over her head. Her only hope was to catch Aubrey by surprise, and damn whatever the other Darkling was here for. Not ideal circumstances, but she would have to work with what she could.
Before she could over think it, Anastasia launched herself across the room, landing on the counter in a crouch. Aubrey hissed in surprise, baring her fangs, a show that Anastasia knew was bravado.
She could see the fear reflected in the sea-blue depths of the newborn’s eyes.
Instead of making her feel powerful, in control, it made her sick to her stomach. Every fiber in her being screamed that this woman was not the evil being that her nastavnyk—her mentor— had insisted that she was, nor was she a threat to humankind.
Biting down on her lip hard, Anastasia choked those feelings back. She was a Carpathian Amazon, sworn ally to the Darklings.
She had a job to do.
Catching the other woman’s long flaxen hair in her fist, she yanked her close, turning her at the same time. The best way to kill a Darkling was to burn them to ash. Since that wasn’t an option at the moment, she went with option number two.
Slit the throat, deep and hard.
Anastasia caught the other woman around the throat with the arm that had been woven in her hair. Aubrey struggled against the strong arm that held her captive, and Anastasia held on tightly until her muscles screamed for release.
“Why…why are you so strong?” Aubrey didn’t need to breathe, Anastasia knew, but she panted regardless.
She hadn’t been a vampire for very long, and Anastasia knew that habits were hard to break for those recently turned.
Anastasia didn’t answer Aubrey’s question. She couldn’t let herself think of this woman like the living—well, sort of—being that she was.
The Amazon closed her eyes and pressed the blade to the tissue-thin skin at Aubrey’s neck. Gritting her teeth together, she dug in, just the slightest bit. Darklings were heavily allergic to silver, though it could not kill them, and she heard the sizzle as the metal of her blade burned the Darkling’s flesh. The bittersweet tang of crimson blood, vampire blood, hit Anastasia’s nose and caused nausea to roil through her belly.
Then she was on her back on the floor, the wind knocked out of her, stars dancing in a multicolored conga above her head. As she wheezed, trying to kick her way up off of the ground, she saw a stream of blond hair waving in a sudden breeze as her target ran away at full vamp speed. Pressing a hand to her head in an attempt to stop the throbbing, she tried to get her leaden limbs to cooperate, but they wouldn’t listen to the signals that her brain was screaming at them.
Whatever had hit her, it had hit her hard. She might be inexperienced, but she was strong—one of the strongest Amazons in the compound. She had also been trained by the best, and she was certain that she would have seen this vamp moving toward her if he hadn’t had some unknown trick up his sleeve.
Blinking, she willed her eyes back into focus. As she did, a heavy weight settled itself over her body, straddling her hips, pressing her own blade to her cheek. Above her was a face, a face made up of lean planes and interesting angles, topped with a wealth of tawny hair.
“You will stay away from the Darkling.” The voice of the man whose identity she still didn’t know was low and rough, layered sexily with the accent of her homeland. He looked her over intently, the beam of his charcoal eyes studying her until she felt naked beneath him.
“Why did you stop me?” It was hard to speak with the blade pressed against her cheek, but after assessing the situation, she had decided that she was in no real danger. If he had truly wanted to kill her, then he would have done so already. If he had wanted to feed from her, he would have done that, too. “She is a rogue. This is the law.”
The heavily muscled man didn’t reply.
“How did you stop me?” Anastasia wasn’t done talking. “I should have seen you.”
Slowly the blade was drawn away from her cheek, then thrown across the floor, where she couldn’t reach it. As she was cursing the loss of her weapon of choice, the man slowly leaned down and licked the thin line of blood that had welled out of the shallow cut.
The slow, deliberate movement told Anastasia that he was merely asserting his control. Instead of angering her—she was a Carpathian Amazon, after all, and would not be dominated—she found herself intrigued at the feel of his tongue on her skin.
“What are you?” The man leaned over, bracing an arm on either side of her shoulders.
She had nowhere to run, but she wasn’t the kind of woman to give in that easily.
“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.” A hint of a smile crossed the vamp’s lips as she spoke and after a moment of consideration he nodded once in agreement.
“Some Darklings possess unique powers. I can wrap myself in shadows, can hide in thin air.”
Anastasia’s mouth fell open a bit at the admission.
Yes, she was in way over her head.
“I am a Carpathian Amazon. Sworn ally to the Darklings.” It was her turn…and maybe he truly had no idea who he was messing with. “You’ve just fucked up my mission from the Karpaty Council. So I guess the question is, who the hell are you?”
The man actually chuckled. He actually laughed at her! Angry now, Anastasia squirmed beneath him, trying to free herself, but only succeeding in making herself aware of the rock-hard muscles that were hidden beneath his black-as-night shirt and pants.
“You think this is funny? That woman is a rogue Darkling, a creature my people are sworn to hunt.” The man chuckled again, and Anastasia shoved at his chest.
Strong as she was, he was stronger.
She didn’t like it.
“You are small for an Amazon.” Settling his weight more heavily on her, as if experimenting with the pressure, she felt the jut of his hipbones press against the curve of her belly.
She also felt the ridge of an unmistakeable erection, one that startled her and at the same time made something hot sizzle through her blood.
To distract herself, she dignified his rude comment with a response.
“To be an Amazon is a state of being, you rube. It has nothing to do with size.” The man laughed harder, and Anastasia bucked her body up, trying to free herself. She must have made herself at least a bit of a nuisance, because the man placed a hand flat on her chest, in the hollow between her breasts, and pushed her flat onto her back. He held her there until she stilled, glaring up at him.
“I am Jasper Nagorsky. I, too, am here for the Council. I will let you fulfill your mission, little Amazon. Just as soon as I fill mine.” With that he lowered his head, letting his lips drift over hers.
Stunned by the movement, Anastasia let Jasper’s lips brush over hers softly but not at all gently. In the back of her mind she knew that he was branding her, claiming her, marking his triumph over her and that the kiss had nothing to do with attraction. Problem was, something deep in her belly responded and had her hungering to return the kiss.
Just before she lost control she remembered who she was. Why she was there. Bracing her hands again on his chest, she shoved as hard as she could, putting every ounce of her strength into the movement. She saw surprise flicker through his eyes quickly at the force behind her shove, then he settled back on his heels, still straddling her body.
She wished that that kiss had never happened, because now she was painfully aware of the press of his muscular thighs on either side of her hips.
Trying to look as dangerous as she could while propping herself up on her elbows, she nearly spat her words at him, all the while thinking frantically of what she could use as a weapon.
“You will not let me do anything.” She had two weapons at hand: her body, which the thick length jutting against his pants told her he wasn’t immune to, and the metal bobby pins in her hair. Even though heat from the physical contact with this big, raw male suffused her body, she envisioned stabbing one of those pins into his chest, pointy end first.
Not proud of what she was about to, Anastasia let her torso fall back, even arching her back the slightest bit, displaying her breasts in her tight black T-shirt like an offering. This was kill or be killed, after all. Lesson number one.
Jasper’s eyes followed the movement, if warily. Slicking her hands up the sides of her body, she ran them through her hair, dislodging two pins at the same time.
When his eyes darkened with arousal, when he again bent his head, she jabbed the pins into his neck, one on either side. He howled like a wild animal as the sharp metal pierced his flesh, and while she had the momentum, Anastasia flipped him over onto his back, letting her own thighs squeeze tightly and hold him down.
The flip had brought her tantalizingly close to her knife. She just needed an inch…just an inch…
Impossibly strong hands grasped her hips, pulled her down, scraping her over hard flesh. Anastasia looked down, her own bottle-green eyes meeting angry gray, and she swallowed thickly.
Her nastavnyk had never taught her what to do with two hundred plus pounds of enraged, aroused Darkling.
A hand loosened its grip on her hips, reached up to cup her around the back of her neck and pulled her down. Hot breath warmed her ear and the whisper that followed tickled her skin.
“You are out of options, little Amazon.”
