A Curse in Darkness by Sherilee Gray

Chapter 21

Willow

When I pulledup outside the house and parked beside four bikes and a car I didn’t recognize, I was still shaken. My mind struggling to decide what was real and what wasn’t. What had already happened, and what could happen if I didn’t work out who was under those hooded cloaks.

Azel.

Maybe he’d been a figment of my imagination? Maybe the crones had been playing with me—or maybe the people under those cloaks were trying to bring that monster back. To set him free.

I had no idea, but I was sure that what I’d seen was the future, our future if I couldn’t stop whoever was behind everything that had happened.

Three witches were working to hurt us. Three, our power number. That, combined with the dark magic they were using, meant they had some serious power behind them—more than I’d imagined.

My door opened before I could do it, and then Warrick was there. He hauled me out, his face in mine.

“I told you to wait. You’re in no fucking state to drive yourself anywhere, not after what you’ve just been through.” His hand carefully slid down my arm and lifted it, then brushed my hair back, checking my neck. The slice on my arm was already fading, thanks to Warrick.

“I’m fine,” I said, lying through my teeth. But how the hell could I be?

“Bullshit,” he said, seeing right through me.

“I’m sorry, okay, I just…” I struggled for anything to add. My only thought had been to get the hell out of there, to get away from the darkness, the awful feeling of dread…the living nightmare the crones had shown me, it was all I could see. I’d wanted to get to my family, to see for myself that they were okay.

Warrick bit off a curse, and then his hand curled around the back of my neck. He dipped his head, pressed his lips to my temple, and breathed me in, almost like doing it comforted him as well. How could that be? This was the alpha of the hellhounds, a male who had limited emotions, was utterly fearless—a male who had lived for a thousand years.

“Warrick?” I said, because he was still holding me, and the longer he did, the more my stupid heart beat faster and the closer to him I wanted to get.

“Shut up,” he said gruffly, then finally lifted his head and urged me to get moving toward the house.

“Charming.”

He growled. “Haven’t recovered from that shit back there, dove. I’m not ready for you to give me attitude, and I’m sure as fuck not ready to spar with that sarcastic mouth either.”

I pretended to zip my lips and throw away the key, trying to make light because this sure as hell wasn’t normal Warrick behavior, and I didn’t know what to do with that, not with everything else running through my mind.

Had seeing me lost in my mind back there truly unsettled him? I didn’t think he was capable of being unsettled. I’d been kind of out of it but remembered him holding me tight. I thought he might have been shaking when he helped me dress.

“Come back to me, precious one.”

The words drifted through my mind, Warrick’s voice, low and full of fear, right before he’d said something in his own language. Had I imagined it? Was it all part of the vision, or had he actually said that to me?

Fender was standing outside the door when I walked around the house, and he gave Warrick a chin lift.

“Thanks for protecting my family,” I said to the stoic hound.

“You’re War’s female,” he said simply.

I narrowed my eyes at Warrick but didn’t correct Fender. I didn’t think that was wise, considering Warrick had just saved me from having my throat slit.

Warrick opened the door, motioning for me to go in, that hot, possessive hold still on the back of my neck.

Voices, a lot of them, came from the kitchen. We walked in, and crammed into the small room was Mom and Arthur, Iris and Nia, Mags and Bram, in his crow form, which was unsurprising since he didn’t like being around a lot of people, and Roe, who was sitting at the end of the table. Her cheeks were flushed, and yes, she looked weak, but she was also smiling, her eyes dancing as she watched Else.

My great aunt was standing over a shirtless hellhound, who was currently on his knees, long hair pulled to the side, while Else manned a tattoo gun.

“Um…what the hell is going on here?” I said.

“We can’t have these guys here unprotected,” Else said, without looking up. “Those spirits like ’em too much. So I did some digging through my demon texts, found some ancient runes that ward off spirits, worked a spell into the ink, and Bob’s your hairy uncle. It’s the best protection I can give them while they’re away from their clubhouse or when they leave our boundary wards.”

“They’re not demons, Else,” I said, taking a closer look at what she was doing. There were four runes, all about two inches in diameter. This wasn’t Else’s first tattoo, she and I both did them from time to time. Shifters especially liked spells worked under their skin since wearing charms didn’t work all that well due to the whole shifting thing. They tended to lose them a lot. “You think this’ll work?”

Else winked at me. “I know it will. And these guys are Hell born, they’re as close to a demon as a being can get and not actually be one.”

If Else said it’d work, it would work.

“You look kind of like shit. What happened to you?” she asked.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I said and forced a smile.

Warrick stepped forward and took a look at Else’s handiwork as well. “You’ll do this for all my brothers?” he asked as he grabbed a chair, sat it beside me, and coaxed me to sit without even looking at me, that big hand on my shoulder applying gentle and persistent pressure. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

I sat.

“Sure thing,” Else said. “Not a hardship seeing all you boys with your shirts off.” She cackled.

Jesus.

Mom laughed, looking more relaxed than I’d seen her in a long time, which told me just how scared she’d been.

Magnolia groaned, and for once, I was glad she was being her usual drama queen, teenage self.

Relic, the male Else was tattooing, looked at Mags and winked. My sister turned beet red. I slapped the hound’s shoulder, and he glanced at me. “Don’t even think about it.”

He held up his hands in surrender, and when I looked up at Warrick, he was grinning down at me, again. Twice in one day, my heart couldn’t take it. He was dangerously hot when he was being a broody jerk; grinning, he was sex on a stick and then some.

“My brothers would never touch any of your sisters,” he said.

“What about her mom,” Mom said.

“Mom!” Iris squealed.

She cracked up and so did the hounds, one of them eyeing her in a way that I did not appreciate. That was all I needed; Mom hooking up with a hellhound.

Arthur frowned.

“Okay, let’s move this along,” I said. “Who’s next.”

“Me,” a deep voice said, and Ronan stepped forward, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. The last time I’d seen the dhampir was at the ball. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him then. “Vampire is demon. I’m only half, but it should work on me also.”

“Ronan, hey, I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said.

He looked down at me with that unusual, emotionless deep purple gaze. “You’re important to Luna,” he said as way of explanation and slid off his shirt, revealing his extremely pale, muscled chest.

Everything was black-and-white to him, there was no gray. Dhampir took emotionless to a whole new level. “Well, thank you.”

They didn’t feel or express emotion at all. His sister and my friend Luna did now, but only after she’d met her mate. Ronan wasn’t so lucky, but somewhere along the way, he’d given his loyalty to the hounds and seemed to be accepted by them as well.

He dipped his chin in acknowledgment, folded his shirt, and placed it on the back of Roe’s chair. My sister gazed up at him, her cheeks still pink, getting pinker when her gaze dipped, taking in his chest.

Ronan paused and looked down at her as well, his head tilting to the side, studying her. Rose’s blue eyes widened a moment before Ronan moved, quick, fluid, and placed his hand to the speeding pulse at her throat. “There’s something wrong with you. You’re unwell.”

Humiliation transformed Rose’s face.

“Ronan, brother, no,” Relic said.

Ronan turned to Relic.

“This is one of those times, my man,” Relic said cryptically.

Ronan’s brow lifted, and he turned back to Rose. “My apologies.”

He didn’t know what he was apologizing for, it was obvious from his puzzled expression.

“It’s fine,” Roe said and quickly turned away, struggling to her feet. I jumped up to grab her when she looked like she’d fall.

Ronan got there first, scooping her up in his arms. “Where would you like to go, Rose?”

“Please…I’m fine,” Roe whispered. “I can walk.”

“You’re not fine,” Ronan said matter-of-factly. “You’re sick, and you weigh nothing.”

I tried to step in, but Mom got there faster. “Just into the living room, thank you, Ronan.”

Rose hated how skinny she’d become; she didn’t even like to be hugged anymore. Having a gorgeous male like Ronan lift her, touch her, and actually mention her weight, would be utterly mortifying to her. My heart hurt at the pained look in her eyes as they disappeared into the other room.

Ronan returned a short time later, his expression stoic, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t read.

“On your knees,” Else said to him.

Iris’s eyes met mine across the table, and she looked as worried about Roe as I felt.

Else didn’t take long to tattoo Ronan, and by the time the last hound was being inked, the room had cleared out.

When she finally finished, my great aunt looked up at the hellhound alpha standing beside me, flexing her fingers, and winced. “You’re next, big boy.”

“Your hand’s causing you pain,” he said. “Willow can do mine.”

Else put down the tattoo gun and shook her hand out. “Sounds good to me. My arthritis is acting up.”

Warrick’s brother left, Else behind him, leaving the two of us alone. “You well enough to do this?” he asked.

“Yes. Honestly, I’m fine.” Physically, I felt almost back to normal. Mentally, that was something else, and I was happy for the distraction.

“Where do you want me?” he said.

So many things popped into my head at those loaded words, but I resisted and instead dragged out a chair.

He reached back, tugging off his shirt, and draped it over the back of the chair beside him and sat. I prepared the tattoo machine, filling it with Else’s special ink. With these guys, we didn’t need to worry about infection, not with their healing abilities, so there was no need to sterilize anything.

I grabbed a marker to draw the runes on him first. His monster shoulder was partially covered by all that thick, wavy hair. It was soft, too. I knew that because I’d had my fingers in it several times now.

I put down the marker and grabbed a hair tie from the bowl on the counter and came back. “I’ll need to tie up your hair.”

He lifted his chin.

Moving behind him, I gathered it up and put it in a kind of messy bun that looked, yeah, really good. Else had drawn the runes on a piece of paper, and I studied them. They were fairly straightforward, and I tried to focus on drawing them and not on his strong, hard, muscled body. It wasn’t easy.

Warrick wasn’t the only one with a lot of hair, and mine fell forward, getting in the way as well, so I grabbed another of Mag’s hair ties that she always left scattered around the house. But before I could lift my hands to my hair, Warrick grabbed my hand and drew me to him.

“Let me.”

He turned me, then pulled me back so I was sitting on one of his solid thighs. As soon as he ran his fingers through my hair, tingles danced across my scalp. I could feel him carefully separating my hair into three sections, and I shivered.

He made a low sound and leaned in, breathing deep. He did that a lot. “Why do you do that? Smell my hair?”

His fingers brushed the back of my neck, and I bit back a moan.

“I’m a hound, dove. I’m sensitive to different scents, and yours is my favorite.”

I blinked, stunned. “My scent is your favorite?”

“Fuck, yes.”

What the hell did you say to that? And why did I love it so much? I had noticed the couple of occasions I’d slept in the same bed as him, he always had his nose buried against me, usually at my throat.

His fingers brushed my neck again. “What are you doing?”

“Braiding your hair.”

He wore his hair braided sometimes—most of the hounds did. My belly did another of those flips it seemed to be doing a lot around him. No male had ever done anything like this for me before, and somehow, it was one of the most erotic things I’d ever experienced.

The gentle touch, the attentiveness, the care the massive alpha was taking, hit me behind the ribs and between my thighs all at the same time.

He held out a hand, his rough, calloused palm facing up…a warrior’s hands, and I slid mine over his, my hand and fingers so much smaller than his.

“Hair tie, dove,” he rasped.

He wanted the hair tie, not to hold my goddamned hand. Heat hit my face, and I quickly pulled my hand away in humiliation, replacing it with the hair tie. He secured the braid, and I tried to stand, face still burning over my mistake, but he stopped me, those strong hands dropping to my hips, fingers flexing.

He leaned in again, his chest pressing against my back, and pressed a kiss to the side of my neck.

I shivered again. “Ready?”

He gave my hips one more squeeze. “Yeah.”

His voice was nothing but a rumble now, and my belly actually quivered. Moving behind him, I turned on the tattoo machine, and the low buzz filled the room. Resting my free hand on his shoulder, I pressed the needle to his smooth skin and started. He didn’t even flinch. Not surprising with all the tattoos he already had.

I forced myself to focus on what I was doing and not how tempting he looked sitting here. But by the time I finished the first rune, I was kind of a mess, hot and achy and seriously restless.

I wasn’t the only one affected. There were goose bumps all over Warrick’s shoulders. He liked the feel of my needle moving over his skin.

“It doesn’t bother you at all, does it?” I said, trying not to think about the way he’d looked in the shower, all naked and muscled.

“What?”

“Having a needle repeatedly stabbed into your flesh.”

“No.” His hands were resting on the table in front of him, and he curled his fingers into fists, then released them. “I’ve always liked it. But right now, I fucking love it.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, when I knew I shouldn’t because I was pretty sure whatever Warrick was about to say was going to make me want to tear my clothes off and straddle him right here in my family’s kitchen.

“I almost fucking lost you today, Willow. I needed your hands on me after that. And now I have them, and I can feel the heat of that tight little body, right there. Can feel your heart beating, and every now and then one of your tits brushes my back…and those slow, even breaths, fuck, I can hear them, feel them.” He made a rumbly sound in his chest. “But what’s making my dick hard enough to hammer in nails, is the smell of your pussy. It’s soaked, dove. And staying still, waiting for you to finish before I tear off your pants and get my tongue inside you, is taking every bit of control I have.”

My thighs clenched. God, the things he said. No one had ever affected me the way he did. Even though most of the time I wanted to punch him and fuck with equal measure. “What if what happened yesterday was just a one off?” I said, making a final halfhearted grasp at resistance.

He laughed low and rough, and dirty as hell, not even bothering to reply with actual words. Because I was full of shit, and we both knew it. Let’s be honest, at this point, if he wanted me, I was his for the taking.

And now that I knew what was going to happen when I finished concentrating was near impossible. As I worked on the last rune, my slow, even breaths had turned into ragged pants.

My belly quivered, and my nipples tightened, and if I’d purposely let them brush his back more than once while I finished, I blamed him for making me feel so out of control. Maybe I wanted to push him, to feel as out of control as he made me.

Warrick’s head was down, his body held rigid. Those thick biceps were rock solid, and his hands no longer rested on the table in front of him but were curled in tight fists, pressing down on his thighs.

With a shaky breath, I turned off the tattoo gun and put it down.

Silence engulfed the room.

Grabbing a damp cloth, I wiped away the excess ink and blood and dropped it on the table. Warrick grabbed my wrist before I could take my hand back, turned in his seat, and slowly pulled me around his body. I ended up standing between his spread thighs.

His nostrils flared, and he reached for the front of my jeans.

“Not here.” I backed up a step, and he rose to his feet, chest heaving as he advanced on me. My belly flipped, and I turned, rushing out the door and up the stairs. The thump of his boots echoed on the hardwood floor as he came after me.

I’d never been happier that my room was all the way up in the tower and away from everyone else than in that moment. I shoved the door open and rushed in. Warrick strode in right behind me.

His gaze raked over me, and he kicked the door shut. For some reason, I backed up at the look on his face. It was fierce, wild, all animal. He watched me do it and stalked me until my back hit the wall.

I’d wanted him to lose control, and it looked like I was getting my wish.

He grunted and reached out, tugging on the hair tie he’d put in my hair a short time ago, and pulled it free, then slowly undid the braid. I was breathing hard and fast, an out-of-control feeling inside me building higher with every moment that passed.

Resting his hand at the base of my neck, he cupped it with his long, thick fingers. Not a threat, it was pure possessiveness. His thumb pressed lightly against the pulse thumping madly below my skin, then he leaned in and dragged his nose along my throat and made a sound that had me wanting to tear my clothes off.

Instead, I stood there frozen, heart pounding, so far beyond turned on, I couldn’t think, my damn mouth wouldn’t work. All I could do was wait for what he would do next—

He dropped to his knees, and gripping the front of my jeans, tore them open. I gasped, and he yanked them down my legs, tugging them right off, my boots and socks with them. Then with another grunt, he tapped my ankle, and I instantly stepped out, following his silent orders, and spreading my legs.

His hand came up between my thighs, and he cupped me over my underwear as he dragged in a breath through his nose.

I whimpered, and he looked up at me. “Yeah, fucking drenched, dove.” He tore my underwear off my body, reducing them to tatters, but he paused, his golden gaze moving over me, and he licked his lips as if he were about to feast on his favorite meal.

I couldn’t take it another moment. “Warrick…”

He buried his face against my swollen, slick flesh and lashed his tongue over my clit before sucking it between his lips. I cried out, and he grabbed one of my thighs and threw it over his shoulder. My hand went to the back of his head, and I tugged him closer. He sucked more firmly, and I was so on edge, so needy for him by then, I came instantly.

Warrick growled and lapped me up as I made incoherent sounds, desperately holding him to me.

I’d barely caught my breath when he was back at my sensitive clit, licking it with broad strokes, making me quiver and moan, Christ, building me right back to the same desperate state I’d been in when we’d walked in here.

He didn’t stop until he took me over the edge again. I groaned helplessly, my hips rocking restlessly as I came a second time.

Before I could catch my breath, he stood, lifted me, and tugged my legs around his waist, then pressed me against the wall and claimed my mouth. The kiss was wild, untamed, and it completely overwhelmed me. I was utterly, willingly, at his mercy.

How was it possible that I wanted more? I wanted more of him.

One of his hands slipped between us, and he rubbed two broad fingers over my opening. I sucked on his tongue, arching against the wall. He shoved them inside me with a hiss, fucking me with them, fast and deep, hitting me right where I needed him. It was like I hadn’t already come twice, I was back to pure all-consuming need.

“You think you can take more, dove?”

“I need you,” I said, so beside myself with desperation for this male, I couldn’t think straight.

“You’re not ready for me,” he said and then slowly eased a third finger inside me.

I shook against him. “Oh god, oh god.”

“I’m wider than that,” he said, voice harsh. “A lot wider. I’ll hit you so deep you won’t know where I end and you start. You really ready for that?”

I was gasping for air now, on the cusp of the most intense orgasm I’d ever had.

“No, you’re not ready for me to shove my big cock inside you, dove, not the way I’ll do it. I’ll claim you like the dirty, rutting dog I am. I’ll make you mine, Willow, and I’ll never let you go. You know that, don’t you? That once I’ve had you, that’s it, there’s no getting away from me. You’ll me mine,” he said the last with an edge of dominance, possession, god, violence.

“Warrick,” I said, and the helplessness, the surrender in my voice, would have alarmed me if I was thinking beyond my need to come, to get closer to this male, for more of what I was positive only he could give me.

Then I was screaming, shaking, coming for him all over again.

When I finally slumped back, exhausted. He slid his fingers free, then pressed them against my swollen flesh, cupping me with that big, rough hand, and stared into my eyes in a way that screamed ownership.

I couldn’t look away as he slowly, so slowly, lowered me to my feet. My knees shook, but somehow, I didn’t fall.

He stepped back and his hands dropped to the front of his jeans, popping the button. He yanked down the zipper, shoved his jeans low enough to free his erection, then braced his legs apart.

Taking himself in hand, he started stroking, fast, not trying to tease. Warrick needed to come.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he lifted the front of his T-shirt, revealing his tight abs, and snarled as he thrust faster into his fist, watching me the whole time. Then the same thing happened that had in the shower. His cock grew longer, thicker, the head darkening and widening.

“You want that inside you, dove?” he asked, flames dancing in his eyes.

I licked my lips, needy and a little afraid all at the same time.

Watching my reaction, he snarled and came, coating his fingers.

He kept stroking until he was done, then shoved his pants back up and closed in on me. I couldn’t move, locked in place by the fierceness in his eyes. He lifted his hand, holding a finger to my mouth, waiting. The move was one of pure ownership, and I don’t know what came over me, but I gave him what he wanted. I took his hand in both of mine and sucked that thick finger into my mouth, his taste mixed with my own, coating my tongue as I licked it clean.

Nostrils flaring, he cupped the back of my head and his lips peeled back, revealing teeth that were no longer his. They were those of his beast, the hound, canines extended, sharp and vicious. “No fucking backing out now, you know that, don’t you, dove?” he said.

I stared up at him, my heart still racing. He meant what he said. The truth of it was in his eyes.

What was I doing with him? I was setting myself up here for serious hurt. I could see the collision coming, the ugly aftermath, but I couldn’t put on the brakes. I couldn’t stop this.

A tingle danced along my belly.

The vines.

Shoving up my shirt, I looked down. “Oh no.”

“What is it?”

“It’s too late.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The vines, they’ve joined. I failed. Oh god, I’ve failed…”