Read Hidden Darkness (Hidden Saga Book 4) Online

Authors: Amy Patrick

Hidden Darkness (Hidden Saga Book 4) (19 page)

I shrugged away from him. “No. I’m fine. I was lucky. Which is more than I can say for a lot of people here tonight.”

Across the street, someone yelled for help, and a couple of girls Asher’s age ran toward him. Culley didn’t even turn his head. He was still focused on me.

“And what about back at Altum with the Light King? And Nox? They didn’t punish you? Or did they just throw you out?”

I shook my head. “They did neither. Listen, I don’t really have anything left to say to you, okay? You’ve verified that your bomb worked, or whatever, so you should probably get back on the road.”

Now Culley’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t do this, Ava. I’ve already told you that. Do you really believe I’m a… a terrorist?”

The word
no
leapt to my mind, but what other explanation was there? Why else would he have come back here? “I believe you do what your father commands you to do. And I know you’re good at making people see what they want to see.”

I’d discovered Culley’s unique glamour on the day I’d met him—we’d been on a shoot together, and it quickly became obvious why he was the world’s most in-demand male model. He wasn’t
just
attractive. He’d explained it fell along the lines of the old adage “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” No matter who was looking at him, male or female, child or adult, human or Elven, they all saw their ideal—he was literally the best-looking guy they’d ever seen.

Culley smirked. “Believe it or not, Ava, my glamour and my moral center are two separate things. I’d think
you
would understand that, if anyone would.”

Ouch. He was right. For years, I had used my own glamour to hurt people in service of Culley’s father Audun, the head of the Dark Council, to erase their memories or implant new ones, and it had made me feel like scum. I was seriously hoping that just because a glamour
could
be used for evil purposes, that didn’t mean it
had
to be.

In fact I was making my break from the Dark Court and setting off on my own when my car had been caught up in the crossfire of this tragedy.

“It doesn’t matter what I think. You should be worried about what these deputies milling around here are going to think,” I said. “You’re a stranger in a very small town at the wrong time. So am I. We both need to go.”

Culley stared at me for a moment. Then he took my hand. “Come with me.”

I yanked my fingers from his grasp just as Asher walked up. His eyes went from me to Cully, back to me again, clearly taking in the unfriendly body language.

He slid an arm around my shoulders. “Everything okay here? This guy bothering you?”

Culley bristled at his words—and his familiar handling of me—straightening to his full six-foot-three height. It put him at only an inch taller than Asher.

“This
guy
…” he said, his light Australian accent suddenly more pronounced. “… is her fiancé. So you can just nick off, farm boy.”

Asher’s hand on my shoulder tensed slightly. “I wasn’t speaking to you.” Turning to look directly into my eyes, he asked again, his words gentle and low, meant only for me. “Are you all right, Ava?”

“He’s not my fiancé,” I said. I wasn’t sure why it was so important to make the clarification at that moment. “He was, but he’s not anymore. It’s complicated.”

He nodded. “Okay. I want you to go sit in my truck and wait for me while I check with the EMT’s. I think they’re about to transport some people. Did anyone get to you?”

“No, but I’m fine.”

His eyebrows lowered, and his lips stretched into a thin, displeased line. “I’m driving you to the hospital, just in case. Here are my keys. Just go get in—I’ll be right there.”

He held out his keys, expecting me to take them. Expecting me to allow him to take care of me—keep taking care of me. I couldn’t do that. And I couldn’t go to the hospital. Before I had the chance to tell him that, Culley spoke up.

“Listen mate, I’ll take it from here. You’ve been all Johnny-on-the-spot and whatever—good on ya. But
I’ll
look after my girl.”

Asher took a step forward, insinuating his body between me and Culley. “I believe Ava’s already made it clear she’s not your girl anymore.”

My gaze bounced between the two aggressively positioned guys. This wouldn’t do. And though I would
not
be leaving with Culley, I couldn’t leave with Asher either. I couldn’t go to the hospital. I couldn’t allow him to get more involved in my life than he already was. The burning building on my right was a perfect example of the reason. My world was too dangerous for a human interloper.
I
was dangerous to
him
.

I touched his arm lightly. “Asher. Can I speak with you a minute?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me, then took a breath and fell back from his standoff with Culley. Together we walked a few feet away. He dipped his head to listen as I spoke to him in a low voice.

“It’s okay. I’ll handle him. He’s harmless.”

Asher glanced to the side, where Culley stood watching us with clenched fists and a scowl. Even now he was ridiculously good-looking. What did Asher see when he looked at him? Some kind of threat, obviously.

“Harmless,” he repeated, not sounding convinced. “Did he have something to do with the reason you climbed that tower the other day?”

“Um… not directly. I can’t really explain. Just… don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine. I can handle him.”

Asher’s big hands enveloped my fingers. His sincere eyes bored into mine. “You don’t have to handle anything—not alone. My friend Richie owns a body shop and a tow truck. I called him to get your car out of here and find you a loaner. In the meantime, I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Culley stepped close, butting into our private conversation. “She’s going to California, mate. You planning to saddle up your horse and take her there?”

Asher slid an acid glance over at him. “If that’s what she needs,” he growled.

Culley reached out and grabbed Asher’s shoulder. Asher knocked his hand away. This was getting out of hand. I stepped in between them and held my arms out to either side like a boxing referee.

“Wait a minute. Asher—thank you, but no. I don’t need your help. And Culley… I’m not going back to California. You know why.”

His eyes narrowed in a warning look. “They’ll find you, you know. Even with a head start.” Slanting a glance in Asher’s direction, he added, “Even with a beefed-up bodyguard. You can’t win this one, Ava.”

I lifted my chin, hoping he was wrong, even though I suspected he was right. “I can try. They don’t own me. It’s a free country.”

Culley shook his head, his lips twisting in a sympathetic smile. “Not for us, Angel. Not for us.”

* * *

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This is an important part of the book for me because without the people named here, HIDDEN DARKNESS wouldn’t exist.

First to you, my beautiful reader... thank you for giving my books a chance to entertain you and touch your heart.

Huge thanks go to my lovely editor Judy Roth for her wonderful work and to Cover Your Dreams for another fantastic cover.

I am forever grateful for my amazing critique partner, McCall, for her words of wisdom and huge heart. I’d be nowhere without my brilliant and hilarious Savvy Seven sisters and the special Dauntless girls. Love and thanks to the rest of the fabulous Dreamweavers and my Lucky 13 sisters for their support, good advice, virtual Prosecco, cupcakes, and cabana boys. #teamworddomination. I’m so proud of you all!

I’m blessed to be “doing life” with some amazing friends. Love to Bethany, Chelle, Margie, and the real housewives of Westmoreland Farm. Special thanks to Mary and CM and Bria for all the great book (and life) talks.

To my first family for your unconditional love and the gift of roots and wings. And finally to the guys who make it all worthwhile—my husband and sons. And thank you to the rest of my friends and family for your support and for just making life good.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amy Patrick grew up in Mississippi (with a few years in Texas thrown in for spicy flavor) and has lived in six states, including Rhode Island, where she now lives with her husband and two sons.

She’s been a professional singer, a DJ, a voiceover artist, and always a storyteller, whether it was directing her younger siblings during hours of “pretend” or inventing characters and dialogue while hot-rollering her hair before middle school every day. For many years she was a writer of true crime, medical anomalies, and mayhem, working as a news anchor and health reporter for six different television stations. Then she retired to make up her own stories. Hers have a lot more kissing.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven