Courting Darkness (15 page)

“We’re supposed to be talking about you,” he grouched.

Impulsively, she reached over and laid her hand on his arm. His muscles leapt beneath her fingertips as if surprised by the light contact. Had she taken a moment to consider it, she’d have realized her folly in reaching out to him, physically or emotionally. Haden was like a caged lion getting poked with a stick. It wouldn’t take long before he struck back. Still, she gave him another jab, curiosity outweighing common sense.

“What was her name?”

“What does it matter?” he verily growled.

“I just wish to know the name of the woman that loved you enough to warrant such devotion from a male who claims to possess no goodness.”

Haden’s stoic expression darkened like the ominous skies of an impending storm. “Well, that was her fatal mistake,” he growled.

For just a moment, his apathetic mask slipped, and Olivia glimpsed a hint of true vulnerability and a whole lot of regret. “I’m sorry…” She didn’t know what else to say, but it made the words no less true. She was sorry—sorry for his heartbreak, sorry for what his grief had made him become, sorry for the guilt and blame he obviously still carried, and sorry for the insensitive remark she’d made back at the hotel about him not understanding loss.

“I don’t want your pity,” he snapped harshly, jerking his arm out from beneath her touch.

His rejection stung more than she wanted to admit; nor did she understand why she particularly cared. “It’s not pity. It’s called empathy—something I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about. Memory or not, I know what it’s like to have your heart broken, and as much as I don’t like you, I’d never wish that on anyone. Not even my worst enemy.”

“Is that what you think I am?”

His questioning look gave her pause. Olivia didn’t rightly know how to answer that. She supposed her response would be different each time he asked. Four hours ago, when she was trapped beneath his hard, unyielding body, she would have said yes. But now, getting the tiniest glimpse into his past, the lines of friend and foe were growing skewed.

When she didn’t reply, taking far too long for his short patience, his tawny brow arched expectantly—waiting for an answer.

“I think…I think that you could be. Especially once you realize I can’t give you what you want.” Did he realize she was talking about more than just the stone?

His sardonic chuckle hinted that he might, sending a shiver of unease racing up her spine. “Olivia, you underestimate the resourcefulness of a male in need.”

Was
he
talking about more than just the stone? Lord, she prayed not.

“And for the record, I am not your greatest threat. We share the same enemy. You just don’t realize it yet.”

The sun had long since set, the colorful tapestry fading to black before Haden finally stopped for the night. Several hours passed with neither of them speaking, which was fine with Olivia because she’d quickly learned that she didn’t care for what he had to say. Her initial hope of gleaning memories from him had been dashed when he’d confessed to strangling her in Vegas and leading a legion of demons to her in Duluth. If he wasn’t her biggest threat, then she’d sure hate to see his competition. Honestly, it was a miracle she was still alive.

He’d scoffed at her ire upon learning of the attack, snarking, “Please, had I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.” Reassuring, that was not. He’d told her of his attempt to steal the necklace and of her little stunt that nearly got her killed in Duluth. At least now she knew what had happened to her, though she found it difficult to believe she’d ever willingly walk into a demon bar. Haden had no explanation for that, either, except pure stupidity, which for once she’d have to agree with him. It was nothing short of a miracle she’d survived.

All said and done, she was left with a mixed bag of emotions when it came to Haden. In truth, she didn’t believe he wanted to harm her, nor did she trust him not to. A few times, as they traveled in silence, she’d catch him watching her. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear that softening in his surly scowl was perhaps a note of affection. But then she’d remember how she came to be here with him, and she’d reach up and poke the tender spot on her temple, just for good measure, then scold herself for being such an idiot.

“We’re getting close. We’ll stop here for the night.” Haden nodded at the Super 8 across the street as he pulled into a poorly lit parking lot of a local-looking bar and cut the engine.

She didn’t know where “close” or “here” was. Nor was she particularly hungry, her appetite quelled by a healthy dose of carsickness and Haden’s earlier revelations. But the idea of getting out of this car was too tempting an offer to pass up. As they approached the single-door entrance, two men burst out, muscling each other to be first. Before she could jump out of the way, Haden grabbed her wrist, jerking her back with one hand and palm striking the taller of the two with the other.

“What the fuck!” the guy yelled, stumbling to gain his footing.

“Watch it,” Haden snarled, pulling her to stand behind him, but not soon enough to avoid getting ogled by the guy’s buddy.

“Hey, sweetheart…”

Had those two assholes not been tanked up with liquid courage, they would have realized their lives were in grave danger. Haden’s low warning growl was the only notice they’d get to run, and neither one of them was moving. She could feel the tension coiling in his taut muscles as he prepared to strike.

Snagging Haden’s arm with both hands, she put all her weight into pulling him back. “Haden, don’t,” she pleaded. “It’s not worth it. I’m fine.” She was surprised when he reluctantly recanted and allowed her to lead him inside. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed under her breath as they entered the bar.

“Me?” He shot her a surprised look. “Did you not see the way that bastard was looking at you?”

She saw it. What she didn’t understand was why he was getting so bent about it. He acted as if he had some sort of claim on her or something.

“I saw it. They were drunk, Haden. You can’t go around hitting people whenever they piss you off.”

The stubborn set of his jaw and arrogantly cocked brow begged to differ. “I was going to do more than hit him,” he growled.

She had no doubt he spoke the truth. As they entered the main part of the bar, she drew a breath to give him an earful, but the air froze in her lungs. The acid scent of sulfur burned her nose. A wave of panic sent a rush of adrenaline flooding her veins. Fight or flight sent her pulse hammering inside her chest, the latter being the better of the two options here as an odd sense of
déjà vu struck her.

Something was wrong. Haden must have smelled it too, because he tensed. His hold on her hand tightened to nearly painful as he muttered a foul curse under his breath. She scanned the crowded bar, squinting to see past the haze of smoke surrounding too many patrons to count.

“You see them, don’t you?” he murmured low beneath his breath.

She swallowed, trying to wet her suddenly parched throat and nodded. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was seeing, but whatever it was, she knew she shouldn’t be here. Her grip tightened on Haden’s hand. “I want to leave,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step back as more and more sets of eyes began to fall on her—some in blatant interest, some in curiosity, others in contempt, as if they, too, knew she didn’t belong here.

Haden halted her retreat. “Don’t run,” he warned her under his breath. “Avoid eye contact. They won’t know you can see them unless you look directly at them.”

That would have been helpful to know about thirty seconds ago. “I think it’s too late.”

“Fuck…” he hissed.

“Haden, I want to go,” she begged, tugging his hand.

“We can’t go. Not yet. If they know you’re sighted and we try to leave, you’re as good as dead.” The concern in his voice frightened her almost more than the shadow-clad demons. “Do you trust me?”

“It doesn’t look like I’ve got much of a choice right now, does it?”

He turned her toward him, looking from her to the crowd behind her, then back to her as if he were playing out various scenarios through his mind. Then, decidedly, he slipped his arm around her back and pulled her tight against his chest. “Go with it if you want to live,” he whispered a second before his mouth came crashing down on hers.

He swallowed her squeak of protest. His fingers threaded into her hair, curving around the back of her neck, holding her in an unforgiving grip. His tongue pressed past her lips with skill, taking, commanding—owning her. She knew full well what he was doing, clever bastard. He was claiming her, marking his territory, and that was the only reason she allowed the kiss to continue as long as she did. It wasn’t because she enjoyed the feel of his full lips, or the taste of his kiss. She didn’t like the way his touch dominated her, leaving her weak and breathless.

His lips were surprisingly soft when not compressed into that perpetual thin line of displeasure. His kiss held a trace of black licorice, the flavor growing pleasantly stronger as his tongue caressed hers. He deepened their kiss, his hold on her tightening, and she felt herself softening—yielding to his touch as his mouth expertly dominated hers.

In response, a low throaty growl of pleasure chortled in his throat, and the swift sting of betrayal pierced Olivia’s heart, jerking her back to reality.

She tried to draw away, but he wouldn’t let her go. His hand centered low on her back, pulling her closer until his arousal dug intimately against her hip. Her pulse quickened with mounting panic. She could feel his restraint slipping. In desperation to be free of his consuming kiss, Olivia bit his bottom lip—hard.

He flinched. Perhaps she’d surprised him, or maybe she’d hurt him, but the soft groan in his throat suggested otherwise. When the coppery tang of his blood touched her tongue, she began to struggle in earnest. He must have tasted it too, because when he finally let her go, the look he gave her was a mixture of passion and ire.

Pinning her with a baleful glare, his tongue slipped out to test the small cut on his lower lip. “You’re lucky we’re not alone,” he growled. With his arm still snaked around her waist, she winced when his fingers bit into her side as he guided her up to the bar.

She tried not to look directly at the shadowed men as they approached. The heat of their assessing gazes traveled from her to Haden, then back. It appeared as if they were trying to decide whether or not she was worth the trouble of taking Haden on, so perhaps his mouth-rape had been worth it after all. She glanced up at him as he seated her at the bar. His typical bad-ass glower was in full-swing, and for once, she was glad to see it. So far, his don’t-fuck-with-me vibe was holding this bar full of demons at bay.

“Why are we staying?” she whispered under her breath when he took the seat beside her and ordered a beer for himself and two Tequila shots for her. She typically wasn’t a drinker, but apparently he thought otherwise. She was grateful for the opportunity to forget what Haden had just done to her.

“If we leave without at least staying for the drink, it will look like we’re running. These bastards are predators, Olivia. They’ll attack at your slightest hint of fear.”

“Well, it’s a bit late for that. I’m terrified.”

He leaned a shade closer and sniffed. “The only thing I smell on you is me. Hopefully, your fear won’t break through my scent.”

The bartender handed them their drinks and Olivia snatched the first shot, anxious to have their drinks and get the hell out of here. She tipped it back in one swallow and pressed the lime to her lips. As Haden watched her, she noted a mixture of hunger and the faintest hint of humor in his gaze as she sucked the juices from the peel.

“What?” she snapped defensively, tossing the rind on the plate. “I’m trying to get the taste of you out of my mouth.”

“Does it make you feel better to pretend you didn’t enjoy it?”

She turned to look at him in utter disbelief. He shot her an arrogant smirk, revealing a glimpse of straight white teeth as he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long pull.

“You’re insane,” she murmured under her breath, taking the last shot and relishing the amber burn that seared away all remnants of Haden’s kiss.

“I saved your life—again.”

“It doesn’t count when it’s your fault I’m in danger in the first place,” she snapped. That they were still sitting here and had yet to be approached was a good sign that she might just make it out of here alive after all. She could feel the heated stares boring into her back, and was loath to admit that Haden’s little make-out stunt had indeed probably saved her life. Not that she would ever admit as much, or utter a thanks. There was no way in hell she would thank him for kissing her, and that he thought she actually enjoyed it was…humiliating. He’d told her to go along with it, that’s all she’d been doing.

That no one challenged him was a testament to his lethal strength. He exuded an arrogant confidence that, had she not known better, would swear he wanted to be here. He seemed right at home among these miscreants. The only thing that spoke contrary was the subtle tightening in his jaw and the faint lines of tension bracketing his mouth.