Darkyn's Mate (#3, Rhyn Eternal Series)

Day Two: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Deidre awoke alone and naked in bed. Her head hurt, and she felt grimy from the night sweats. The night was a blur in her mind, a combination of strange, fuzzy dreams about blood and tossing and turning from the horrible fever. She remembered touching Darkyn’s chest and feeling aroused by the idea of his hands on her. From there, the night was a blurry fever dream. She’d dreamt of sleeping with Darkyn. Just the thought made her head hurt worse. The dread and guilt at the pit of her stomach were countered by the confusion of knowing that she’d fallen into the grip of the Immortal laws first with Gabriel then with Darkyn.

Was any of what she felt real?

Was Darkyn or Fate right about what was supposed to happen?

She was so hungry! Distraught, she rolled over to find the first surprise of the day on the block of stone that acted as a nightstand: an obsidian tray of fruit and fresh pastries. The scents made her stomach roar to life.

Hell had a magic library. Did it have a magic bakery, too?

Unable to dwell on how Hell knew what she liked for breakfast, she wolfed down the pastries and a banana before crossing to the bathroom for a shower. She scrubbed herself down, angry at the Immortals as a whole for tolerating a system that screwed over their mates and eliminated free will. Darkyn’s assertions about her destiny being with him left her in a foul mood.

The Dark One was not capable of a healthy relationship. Gabriel had been, and she was furious at herself for not taking him more seriously and for choosing to accept Darkyn’s deal instead of taking a chance with Gabriel. If Gabriel had killed her while trying to save her, he’d kill the soul in her head, too, the one that damned Deidre to Hell. All of this would’ve been avoided.

She hadn’t been ready to die, though. Did it make her a bad person for wanting the best chance at life? She hadn’t thought so, but then again, she never expected to end up in Hell.

Unwritten terms, Darkyn called them. The ones only he knew that let him win.

Maybe Zamon had answers. He might at least explain what these laws were that condemned her to Darkyn. She didn’t believe that her bet with Past-Death wouldn’t make a difference. If Past-Death being dead had rendered Deidre the mate of Gabriel, why wouldn’t it work again, once Deidre won their deal?

“I feel like crap,” she muttered and rested her forehead against the black stone wall of the shower. The water was hot and the water pressure brutal. It helped wake her up without completely lifting the fog of a fever that had been present since yesterday.

Darkyn’s amusement at the deal made her shudder. She had to figure out what she was missing fast and how permanent it was to be an Immortal mate.

Deidre turned off the shower, some semblance of a plan comforting her. She dressed then went through the motions of brushing her teeth and dressing without the aid of a mirror, irritated that the only mirror in the bedroom was in the inside door of the wardrobe. She wiped the last of the toothpaste from her mouth and glanced down. Blood bubbled from the cut on her index finger. She stuck it in her mouth and cut it again. The wounds healed almost instantly.

Puzzled, she studied her finger, not understanding what was cutting it. She had no old wounds she was reopening. She ran her tongue across her gums again and froze.

Deidre whipped the door open, ignoring the sting of her wet hair against her shoulders. The dress shifted around her as she hurried to the wardrobe. She pushed open the door with the mirror and stared. Petite, white, pointed fangs extended from her upper gums to rest on her plump lower lip.