He was irritated and vexed. It was time for him to return to the estate away from people, but most especially the Dark before he did something stupid like shouting her name up and down the streets.
Kiril slid out of the booth and stood. He didn’t bother buttoning his suit jacket as he started for the door. As soon as the summer air hit him, he drew in a deep breath and let the pub door close behind him.
“Leaving so soon?”
Kiril halted, his muscles tightening for a second. Why was it that Farrell was always near? No matter where Kiril was or what he was doing.
He turned to the side and looked at Farrell. The Dark Fae had pulled back his silver-streaked hair. His red gaze looked at Kiril with a mix of cool confidence and certainty, as if the bastard thought he had already caught him.
How Kiril couldn’t wait to take him down.
Painfully. Deliberately. Leisurely.
“It’s been a long day.” Kiril started walking again, hoping that Farrell would let him go. He should have known better.
“There’s no woman on your arm tonight. Don’t tell me one has snagged you already?”
Kiril stopped again. His mind instantly thought about Shara. She was a setup, and he was pretty sure her absence that night was on purpose. He would play along for the time being, but he needed to keep them on their toes.
“No’ at all,” Kiril said over his shoulder. “I’ve no’ found a woman yet who has come close to snagging me.”
He walked away, letting his comments stew in Farrell’s head the rest of the night. Kiril got behind the wheel of his car and started the engine. The roar was loud and deep. He put it in reverse and drove away from the city. Before he turned, Kiril glanced in his rearview mirror to see Farrell staring.
“Give it a rest,” Kiril muttered and quickly sped out of the city and over the bridge.
The drive home was uneventful and the weather nice. Still, Kiril didn’t put the top down. It was too much of a temptation to see the sky and not be able to take flight. By the time he turned down the road that would take him to his estate, he was in a foul mood. At least no one would see him in such a state. The staff wouldn’t arrive until right before dawn as they did six days a week.
Kiril slowed the car as he reached the iron gates blocking entry to the estate. He punched in the code and waited for the gates to open before he drove through, parking the car at the front of the house.
He no longer cared that the Dark watched him. They had become a fixture, just as Farrell had. At least he didn’t have to converse with the ones who spied on him.
Normally he loved driving along the roads in his car, but there was a restlessness about him that night he couldn’t name or erase. He got out of the car and jogged up the front steps to the door.
Since the day he bought the estate he hadn’t bothered to lock the doors or set the alarm system. There was no need. He had nothing worth stealing, and the Dark would get in no matter what he put in their way.
He walked into the house and stilled. With his gaze darting around, he slowly closed the door behind him. Someone had been in his house. He could smell them, and it was a familiar smell.
Kiril ran up the stairs to his room and burst through the doors. His gaze went to his sword to find it exactly where he had left it. A long sigh left him as relief flowed through his veins. He walked toward the sword, but once he reached the bed he jerked to a stop.
The scent was strong here. Whoever had entered his house spent the most time in his room. Kiril drew in a deep breath and drew in the scent of the sea and … primroses.
Shara.
She had been in his home, in his room. His gaze went back to the bed. The previous night he’d dreamt of taking her in his bed, of caressing her creamy skin, of fisting his hands in her long black hair and kissing her until she clung to him, begging him to fill her.
To know that she had been standing in his room, near his bed had his cock immediately hard and aching. Kiril fisted his hands as both need and anger filled him.
If the wench wanted to play tease, he was game to join in. And he’d had much more time to perfect the art.
*
“Where have you been?”
Shara didn’t have time to answer as Farrell pushed her from behind before grabbing her shoulder and roughly turning her around to slam her back against the wall in the hallway of their home.
“I knew you were watching Kiril, so I wanted a look at where he lived to better know my quarry,” she answered angrily. The vein at his temple throbbed, an indication that he was beyond furious. Well good, since she was now as well.
Farrell smiled coldly, cruelly. “Is that so? It seems your charms you were so sure of last night are worth nothing. Kiril doesn’t want you.”
“He’s not a man to shout what he wants or doesn’t want, especially to the enemy.”
It was the wrong thing to say. The punch came to her side before she could prepare for it. Shara doubled over, the pain making it difficult to breathe.
“You better be right, little sister. The next time I won’t care if I mess up your face,” Farrell said next to her ear before he straightened and walked away.
CHAPTER FIVE