“It isna,” he said.
Darcy stared at his large hand. He held it palm up, and despite herself, she wanted to read his palm. Instead, she slid her hand in his.
His long fingers curled gently, firmly around hers before he tugged her up. She stood staring up at a face she knew she had never seen before, but the rugged planes looked familiar. As did his square chin and hard jaw, his intense cobalt eyes, and the thick lashes. She knew his sinfully full lips and his warmth.
Just as she did his short blond hair that was disheveled from the fight. The full waves made her itch to sink her hands into the strands.
She knew she hadn’t released his hand, but for the life of her, she couldn’t. She enjoyed the feel of his strength, his comfort.
He was watching her as intently as she watched him. Darcy wondered what he thought of her frizzy hair and pale complexion. And she couldn’t forget the freckles across her nose.
“You called those men Dark,” she said, hating her hoarse voice.
He glanced at the dead men. “They’re Dark Fae.”
Thankfully, her knees held her. “Fae,” she repeated since she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“She took that rather well, I think,” said a deep voice from the shadows to her right.
The King’s forehead furrowed before he glared into the shadows. He didn’t utter a word, but there was no need. He was perturbed that they had been interrupted. As was she.
Darcy looked back at him to see his gaze lowered to their clasped hands. Hers looked so small within his. He loosened his fingers, and she reluctantly withdrew her hand. She let it fall to her side and took a step back. The night had given her a swift kick in the butt.
She needed her mental armor back in place, and thankfully it didn’t take her long to find it. “Of course I took it well.”
What better way to face a situation like this than to lie? She would laugh at her pluck, if the circumstances weren’t so dire.
“I know you’re Dragon Kings,” she said to the one before her.
His cobalt gaze bore into hers. Silence stretched as he studied her. “You know that because you helped Ulrik.”
“Why do I have the feeling you didn’t just happen to be here?”
“Because we were no’,” came the voice from the shadows.
“Thorn,” the King said, though no heat was in his voice. “Enough.”
Darcy lifted her chin. “Is that a nickname because he’s apparently a thorn in your side?”
“It’s my bloody real name,” came the terse reply.
The King’s lips softened just a fraction, but not nearly enough to call it a smile.
“And your name?” she asked him.
There was a long pause before he said, “Warrick.”
“Warrick,” she repeated, letting it roll off her tongue. After watching him in battle with the Dark Fae, the name suited him to perfection. “Thank you both for helping me with the Dark.”
Thorn made a sound at the back of his throat. “Doona go thinking that’s the last you’ve seen of them.”
“Please come out so I can see your face,” Darcy said.
There was a smile in Thorn’s voice when he said, “I gave my jeans to Warrick. I’m no’ shy, lass, but I doona want to embarrass Warrick.”
A growl rose up from Warrick as he faced the shadows, his nostrils flaring. Darcy ducked her head to hide her own laughter when she heard Thorn chuckling.
She couldn’t quite manage to hide her smile when Warrick turned back to her. “I’m Darcy.”
“It’s late, and there may be more Dark. It might be best if we get you home,” Warrick said.
She looked around at the dead Fae. If the Kings weren’t here by accident, that meant they were watching her. She was sure they knew her name as well.
As much as she didn’t like being followed, she was immensely grateful that the Kings had been there to stop the Dark. “What happens with them?” she asked, pointing to the Dark that littered the street.
“I’ll take care of them once you’re gone,” Thorn said.
Warrick bowed his head. “And I’ll walk you home.”
Darcy turned toward the direction of her flat, a bubble of something causing her stomach to flutter. It couldn’t be because of the quiet, brooding giant of a man with blond hair and blue eyes beside her.
They walked a little while before she asked, “Why were you here?”
“You.”
One word. She rolled her eyes. “I figured that one out. Is it because I helped Ulrik get some of his magic back?”
“Did you ever stop to wonder why we bound his magic?”
“Yes.”
He shot her a glance as they walked. “And you helped him anyway?”
“Yes. Are the Dark after me because I aided Ulrik?”
There was a long pause before Warrick lifted a thick shoulder in a shrug. “The Dark have your scent now, Druid. They’ll keep coming for you.”
“Until I’m dead?”
“They’ll take you to their realm and use your body, draining you of your soul.”