“You little bitch,” Farrell growled and came at her.
He wrapped his hand around her neck, much as Kiril had done earlier in the night. The difference was, Kiril had held her firmly without hurting her, but Farrell was squeezing painfully. Shara stared into his eyes, daring him to do what he had wanted for decades.
“Farrell,” their mother said from the doorway. “Release her.”
Shara didn’t rub her neck as she longed to do when Farrell’s hand finally dropped away. She kept her arms by her sides and watched their mother all but glide into the room. Her completely silver hair was cut in a bob at her chin, not a hair out of place.
Her eyes blazed in red fury as she looked from Farrell to her. “Shara, you know this is your last chance to prove you’re one of us, our blood.”
“I’m making headway, Mother. Kiril knows I’m not a whore, so I can’t just go barreling in there.”
Her mother nodded regally. “Quite right. You’re being smart about this. For once. I’m happy to see that. I’ll be even happier when I see more silver in that hair of yours. If this assignment wasn’t so important I’d have you working for me and gaining silver in your hair by the day.”
Shara looked at her mother calmly. Had she been switched at birth? Why did the idea of hurting someone make her uncomfortable? She was a Blackwood. Evil should be second nature to her. If anyone had a hint what she was thinking they would strike her down where she stood.
Everyone in the house made her feel inferior, as if she hadn’t been born into one of the most powerful Dark families of the Fae. It wasn’t her fault she had been forgotten by them, and now it was all up to her to prove herself. There were times, like now, that she wanted to disappear.
Or better yet, have them disappear.
But that was never going to happen. She either completed her mission adequately or she died. It all came down to having Kiril captured or continuing to live.
It had been an easy choice yesterday, but now things were more … complicated.
Shara started to move past her mother when her hand reached out and her long fingers griped Shara’s arm painfully. “You’re testing my patience with that color you dare to wear.”
Shara glanced down at the dark gold dress. “I needed him to see me even in the shadows. It’s still a dark tone.”
“Black, Shara. Don’t make me remind you again, or it won’t be Farrell who has a hand around your neck.”
Shara bowed stiffly, her anger barely contained, before she pulled her arm free and stiffly walked to her room. Wearing dark colors had always come easy because she liked them. It had nothing to do with viewing pastels as weak colors, they just happened to be colors she didn’t care for. But there were times Shara saw a red dress, a white shirt, or even a bright pink skirt she liked. It felt like blasphemy to even think of those colors.
She kept her pace controlled as she walked into her room. Shara turned to shut the door and glanced into the corridor to find her guard take his place.
Once the door was closed she rested her forehead on it. Even now when she was doing what they wanted, they kept her cousin guarding her. Wasn’t she proving herself by doing what was asked?
How much longer would she be followed? Would it even make a difference if Kiril were captured with her help? She had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t, not until her hair was more silver than black.
Shara thought back to when she killed the human females after her brothers and cousins had sucked their souls dry. There was no way she could witness that again, or even be party to it. Her family must know that as well. Why else would they keep her under guard?
She had remained under their thumb for centuries, locked in her room isolated from everyone and everything. She refused to allow that to happen again.
“Never,” she whispered and straightened.
There was strength and confidence within her that hadn’t been there before that night. She thought about Kiril, about how his kisses had weakened her knees while his touch had stolen her breath.
He had taken her wildly, passionately.
Completely.
And he might very well have changed her forever.
CHAPTER NINE
Dreagan Industries
Highlands of Scotland
Laith walked into Constantine’s office to find the King of Kings standing at his window staring out at the rolling land that the Dragon Kings had called home for eons.
“So much stayed the same for so long that it’s hard to grasp the changes taking place here,” he said.
Con’s shoulders lifted as he inhaled deeply. “You’ve the right of it.”
“What troubles you?”
“I’ve got an uneasy feeling about Kiril remaining in Ireland.” Con turned around and walked to his desk. He sat in the leather chair and regarded Laith.