Even after all this time, it was still hard to accept. There were times he couldn’t. Would the same happen with Shara? Would he continue to try to earn her favor even if she turned out to be evil as his friends believed?
Kiril swirled the whisky in his glass. Dreagan. It had arrived just two hours before by courier. He’d had it shipped in from one of their distributors. It was a small taste of home, but it did nothing to ease the knot in his belly.
His mobile rang shrilly into the silence. Kiril palmed it and briefly thought about tossing it in the pool when he looked at the number. He didn’t recognize the caller, but whoever it was was in Ireland.
He answered with a curt “Aye?”
“I’ve got a lovely redhead who’s dying to meet you.”
Farrell. Kiril slowly sat up. “Do you now?”
“I told her you’d be here as you are every night.”
He set down his glass of whisky at his feet. “How did you get my number?”
“I’m connected. If there’s something I want, I get it.”
“I’m beginning to believe that.”
Farrell chuckled. “Are you … occupied?”
“Nay.”
“Good. You must get down here.”
“I’m going to pass.”
There was a beat of silence, and Kiril could practically hear Farrell’s anger growing. “How about I bring her to you?”
Kiril wasn’t in the mood to play games or pretend that he liked Farrell, when he couldn’t stand the bastard. “What? You love my company so much you’re looking for ways we can spend time together? I’m thinking you need that redhead much more than me.”
He ended the call, and though he should have handled things better, Kiril found that he really didn’t care. Being around so many Darks was like rubbing a wound raw.
Evil festered, gnawed. Being so close to so much maliciousness corrupted and infected everything around it. That’s what was happening to him. He could feel it eating at him from the inside out.
Where was Shara? He didn’t care what her reasons were as long as she came to him.
Kiril remained outside for the time it took him to toss back the last of the whisky in his glass. He rose and walked inside the house and slammed the doors behind him. He then turned on the stereo and cranked up the Thousand Foot Crutch CD with “Fly on the Wall” blaring through the speakers.
He kept the lights off as he hurried to the door of the cellar. It was meant to be nothing more than a wine cellar, but Kiril had been expanding it since he’d purchased the estate.
There wasn’t a single piece of furniture in the cellar. It was far from his cave in the mountains on Dreagan, but it kept the Dark Fae from seeing him.
And he desperately needed to be hidden.
He let out a bellow, his hands fisted as he bent his arms, releasing the pent-up frustration, rage, and aggravation. The cellar wasn’t quite as big as he wanted it. The plan had been to come work on it, but now he knew he needed to be there for another reason entirely.
Ever since he arrived in Ireland he had been tamping down his urge to shift. This time, when the need hit, he eagerly sought it.
One moment he was human, and the next he shifted. The cellar was cramped, barely leaving room for his body to fit lengthways. With his tail tucked against him and his wings as close to his body as he could manage, he was hunched over. He couldn’t stand upright, but he didn’t care. He was in his true form, and that alone helped to alleviate most of what bothered him.
Kiril lay down, resting his head upon his paws. To think he had been tired of hiding at Dreagan, tired of never being able to stay away from it too long.
What he wouldn’t give to return. Except he had his brethren—and Rhi—to think about. He had to remain in Ireland for as long as he could.
Though he feared he wouldn’t be able to stand it too much longer.
*
Shara wasn’t concerned with the passing of time. Though her thoughts often turned to Kiril, she quickly thought of something else. As long as she was with Balladyn, no other man would dare offer for her nor would her family bother her.
She watched a female Dark go up to a cage that held a human male and grab his engorged cock. His face was a mask of euphoria from that simple touch. That was something she understood all too well. It’s what she’d experienced in Kiril’s arms.
Damn, she was doing it again. She had to stop thinking about him. If everything went to plan, she would never have to face Kiril again, never have to ignore the burning desire or pretend that she wasn’t aching for his touch.
“Shara,” Balladyn said as he wrapped an arm around her, his fingers digging into the bruise on her side.
She hissed in a breath and hastily covered it as she smiled at him. His gaze, however, was narrowed and ire hardened his features.
“You didn’t tell me you were injured.”
She lifted her shoulders helplessly. “It’s just a bruise. I’m fine.”
“And how did you get this bruise?”
“It’s of no concern.”