Darkest Flame

“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.”