Darkest Desires

Excerpt

He slowly turned and continued walking toward the destination the drifter had forced him to take a detour from. As he neared the bar, a man’s angry voice followed by a loud smack and a small cry drifted clearly through the still night. His blood turned to ice, and rage replaced the remnants of leftover anger from the fight at the sound of that cry. It belonged to Avril. The predator inside him screamed for freedom and ramped up his adrenaline, which made his blood boil ten times harder than when he had fought the drifter only moments ago. The anguished cry was laced with terror and pain, and whoever was the source of that terror and pain was about to meet their worst nightmare.

He stopped and shimmered to the bar’s back door. In a mere moment, he was standing directly behind the man who had just hit Avril. His vision blurred filmy red, and his veins sang with rage when he saw the man’s hand working the zipper of her jeans open. She looked so small next to him. Her glazed eyes told him she was nearly unconscious, and she’d have never stood a chance against the bigger man on her own. Avril’s attacker reeked of alcohol and excitement. Heat radiated from Aiston, and the familiar stirring of fire licked at his burning skin. He took a deep breath, trying to control the anger encouraging the inferno at his fingertips to life.

His gift, his curse, his strength, was the element of fire. It had taken him years to master the ability. Years littered with accidents. He’d nearly burned Sighasora, the small village he and his brothers grew up in, down on more than one occasion. His mother and father had been patient with his struggles to contain his powers, but he remembered even his mild-mannered dad getting a little irate the day Aiston had set his hair on fire. His fingertips glowed red, and within seconds, flames flickered from each end, mocking ten lit cigarette lighters. He breathed deep again, and the flames died out, yet his fingertips continued glowing. He was master of the fire now. Could control it without much thought except when he was angry. Then he could rain a fury of fire down that hell would be envious of. The downside to his ability was that it weakened him when he used it.

He grabbed the man by the collar and slung him against the brick wall like a rag doll before he wrapped one hand around his throat—easily holding him, feet dangling off the ground, enjoying the way his eyes bulged. He could disintegrate the man with a mere thought, but he was supposed to protect humans, not kill them. Although he was having a hard time considering this asshole a human.

The man struggled for breath. “W-Who are you?”

Aiston felt the darkness creep across his eyes, and knew the familiar blue color that had stared back at him countless times in the mirror was turning black like the fog turned the cerulean sea gray. “I’m your worst nightmare, buddy.” Aiston smiled when the man’s eyes flew wide, and the smell of urine assailed his nostrils. The fact that he’d made the coward piss himself was a very small concession. Aiston growled. Wild, untamed need to kill the bastard coursed through him.

The man gasped again. “That’s just my girlfriend. She likes it rough like that. I didn’t hurt her none.”

Aiston sneered, rammed his face closer to the lying bastard and took pleasure in the sight of his cheeks turning beat red and his forehead breaking out with droplets of sweat. “Really, I thought that was Avril, my sister-in-law’s best friend. And, believe me when I say, I’m pretty sure she has no boyfriend, much less a scum bag like you.”

The red drained from the man’s face, leaving pale, pasty white skin. “Please, I swear, I’ll never touch her again. Just don’t hurt me.”

Aiston laughed at the man’s whiny plea, and heard a quiet moan behind him. He glanced at Avril lying on the ground. “Oh, I have no doubt you will not touch her again. In fact, you will not come near her again, and you will find a different bar to drink at.” Aiston pushed his face even closer to the man’s face and let one of his fangs slide below his lip. “Because, I swear, if you come near her again, I’ll fucking kill you.” Aiston let the man drop back to the pavement, and made sure his relief was short lived. He punched him hard in the face, knocking him out and sending him thudding to the ground with a loud crack.

The man would be sore and bruised for at least a week, but that gave him only a small amount of satisfaction. He could have easily crushed the man’s skull with that one simple punch, and it had been very hard to not do so. Yeah, he may use women himself, but he didn’t believe in hitting or abusing them. There wasn’t too much that pissed him off more.

He kneeled by Avril’s limp body and pushed the dark mass of short, wavy hair away from her face. She moaned again and an unfamiliar, invisible wave of protectiveness flowed over his skin and sank deep into him. He picked her up and shimmered them both to her apartment. He laid her gently on the bed. When he saw the deep purple bruise coloring her cheek, he barely contained the need clawing at him to go back and kill the bastard behind the bar. He took a deep, calming breath, and went to find a wash rag in the bathroom. After he found one in a small closet beside the toilet, he wet it with cold water and wrung it out. When he laid the cold cloth on her cheek, she moaned again and her lovely, chocolate brown eyes fluttered open. Suddenly, her arms and legs flailed, striking out at him awkwardly.

He gently restrained her. “Avril, it’s me, Aiston.” The blankness in her eyes told him she was still in a fog from being unconscious, and wasn’t thinking clearly. He figured she probably thought she was still back at the bar with that asshole.

“Avril, look at me. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He knew the minute his familiar voice finally penetrated her mind by the way her eyes cleared.

“Aiston?”

“Yeah, you’re okay now. You’re home.” He let her go when she calmed down, and watched as she eased into a sitting position before gently trailing her fingers along her bruised cheek. She cradled her head between her hands and moaned. Aiston picked up the cold rag that had fallen to the floor in the struggle and placed it against her face once again.

She let out a little sigh that sent a strange ache through his heart. “Why were you at the bar, and what did you do to Brad?”

“You mean you actually know that fu—scumbag?” Anger slithered through him once again at that thought.

“Yeah, only because he is a regular at the bar. I mean, I had no idea his flirting would turn violent.”

His blood boiled. “Well, he won’t be bothering you anymore.”

She pulled the rag away from her face. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re worried about. But, believe me, I wanted to, and if he ever touches you again, I will.”

She let out a long breath that sounded much like relief. “You didn’t answer my other question. Why were you at the bar?”

He shrugged. “I was in the area.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Uh huh. If you say so.” She shivered, and Aiston took her hand in his.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just . . . well, I don’t even want to think about what could be happening right now if you hadn’t shown up.” Avril shifted and placed a small kiss on Aiston’s cheek. “Thank you.”

He watched in amusement as she toyed with the corner of her shirt in obvious discomfort of making physical contact with him. He liked the reaction. It proved he wasn’t the only one feeling the attraction between them. Unfortunately, he knew Avril well enough to know she’d fight it with everything she had.