Burning Desire (5 page)

Shara jerked her gaze away from the bed and swallowed as she tried to get her body under control. Kiril was dangerous—dangerous to her body and her mind. It was something her family could
never
know.

She walked away from the bed and looked around. The walls were painted a soft cream with the baseboards and crown molding a rich, dark chocolate wood. The colors were soothing and complemented the wood floors. Once more the few pictures on the walls were all of landscapes.

There was a small Chesterfield couch in black leather off to the side in front of the fireplace. The table by the bed, and one near the couch were the only other pieces in the room. Shara did a complete circle where she stood, looking for anything she might have missed. And found a sword in the corner leaning against a wall.

She knelt in front of the double-edged broadsword. Her fingers glided over the two-handed hilt wrapped in leather. It almost seemed like any other sword until she spotted the top of it. The pommel was a dragon’s head with ruby eyes that looked toward the ceiling.

The blade was clean and sharp with nothing marring the steel until she reached the top where she spotted Celtic knotwork and some language she didn’t recognize.

“Dragonnish,” she whispered.

She had never heard of the dragons putting their language into a written form, but she wasn’t surprised. The words flowed elegantly, with a flourish that bespoke an ancient race and a plethora of wisdom.

Shara wanted to know what the writing said and the meaning of it to Kiril. There wasn’t anything in the house that remotely looked like a dragon except for the sword. The sword was left in plain sight. So obvious most people would have glanced right over it and not thought twice about it. But she had been searching for something that was his.

He resided in the home, slept in the bed, ate at the kitchen table, and dressed in the clothes that hung in his closet, but the only thing that was Kiril was the sword.

*   *   *

Kiril looked at his watch as midnight struck. He had flirted with women at all three pubs he visited, and made sure to show his face at
an Doras
where Farrell was once again in attendance.

But he couldn’t find Shara anywhere.

Kiril had held onto the chance that he might run into the Dark Fae again, but no matter where he looked, she was nowhere to be found. It was almost as if she was hiding from him.

He was irritated and vexed. It was time for him to return to the estate away from people, but most especially the Dark before he did something stupid like shouting her name up and down the streets.

Kiril slid out of the booth and stood. He didn’t bother buttoning his suit jacket as he started for the door. As soon as the summer air hit him, he drew in a deep breath and let the pub door close behind him.

“Leaving so soon?”

Kiril halted, his muscles tightening for a second. Why was it that Farrell was always near? No matter where Kiril was or what he was doing.

He turned to the side and looked at Farrell. The Dark Fae had pulled back his silver-streaked hair. His red gaze looked at Kiril with a mix of cool confidence and certainty, as if the bastard thought he had already caught him.

How Kiril couldn’t wait to take him down.

Painfully. Deliberately. Leisurely.

“It’s been a long day.” Kiril started walking again, hoping that Farrell would let him go. He should have known better.

“There’s no woman on your arm tonight. Don’t tell me one has snagged you already?”

Kiril stopped again. His mind instantly thought about Shara. She was a setup, and he was pretty sure her absence that night was on purpose. He would play along for the time being, but he needed to keep them on their toes.

“No’ at all,” Kiril said over his shoulder. “I’ve no’ found a woman yet who has come close to snagging me.”

He walked away, letting his comments stew in Farrell’s head the rest of the night. Kiril got behind the wheel of his car and started the engine. The roar was loud and deep. He put it in reverse and drove away from the city. Before he turned, Kiril glanced in his rearview mirror to see Farrell staring.

“Give it a rest,” Kiril muttered and quickly sped out of the city and over the bridge.

The drive home was uneventful and the weather nice. Still, Kiril didn’t put the top down. It was too much of a temptation to see the sky and not be able to take flight. By the time he turned down the road that would take him to his estate, he was in a foul mood. At least no one would see him in such a state. The staff wouldn’t arrive until right before dawn as they did six days a week.

Kiril slowed the car as he reached the iron gates blocking entry to the estate. He punched in the code and waited for the gates to open before he drove through, parking the car at the front of the house.

He no longer cared that the Dark watched him. They had become a fixture, just as Farrell had. At least he didn’t have to converse with the ones who spied on him.

Normally he loved driving along the roads in his car, but there was a restlessness about him that night he couldn’t name or erase. He got out of the car and jogged up the front steps to the door.

Since the day he bought the estate he hadn’t bothered to lock the doors or set the alarm system. There was no need. He had nothing worth stealing, and the Dark would get in no matter what he put in their way.

He walked into the house and stilled. With his gaze darting around, he slowly closed the door behind him. Someone had been in his house. He could smell them, and it was a familiar smell.

Kiril ran up the stairs to his room and burst through the doors. His gaze went to his sword to find it exactly where he had left it. A long sigh left him as relief flowed through his veins. He walked toward the sword, but once he reached the bed he jerked to a stop.

The scent was strong here. Whoever had entered his house spent the most time in his room. Kiril drew in a deep breath and drew in the scent of the sea and … primroses.

Shara.

She had been in his home, in his room. His gaze went back to the bed. The previous night he’d dreamt of taking her in his bed, of caressing her creamy skin, of fisting his hands in her long black hair and kissing her until she clung to him, begging him to fill her.

To know that she had been standing in his room, near his bed had his cock immediately hard and aching. Kiril fisted his hands as both need and anger filled him.

If the wench wanted to play tease, he was game to join in. And he’d had much more time to perfect the art.

*   *   *

“Where have you been?”

Shara didn’t have time to answer as Farrell pushed her from behind before grabbing her shoulder and roughly turning her around to slam her back against the wall in the hallway of their home.

“I knew you were watching Kiril, so I wanted a look at where he lived to better know my quarry,” she answered angrily. The vein at his temple throbbed, an indication that he was beyond furious. Well good, since she was now as well.

Farrell smiled coldly, cruelly. “Is that so? It seems your charms you were so sure of last night are worth nothing. Kiril doesn’t want you.”

“He’s not a man to shout what he wants or doesn’t want, especially to the enemy.”

It was the wrong thing to say. The punch came to her side before she could prepare for it. Shara doubled over, the pain making it difficult to breathe.

“You better be right,
little
sister. The next time I won’t care if I mess up your face,” Farrell said next to her ear before he straightened and walked away.

CHAPTER FIVE

Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight excruciating, tormenting hours. Kiril experienced every painful second of those hours. And all because of one woman—Shara.

He wasn’t going to leave Cork without seeing her again. He didn’t care if he had to comb through every business, every pub, and even every house. It didn’t matter how many Dark Fae stood in his way.

He. Was. Going. To. See. Her.

Had he not been so wound up, had she not been in his room, he might have realized how close to the edge he was. The fact he knew he was teetering on the brink of losing his control didn’t go undetected by him.

Shara wanted something from him, and he wanted something from her. If he allowed it, they could dance around it for days or weeks to come. Kiril wasn’t sure how much longer he could remain in Ireland.

He might have told Con earlier during their morning chat that he was fine. He was anything but. It was getting harder and harder to remain in human form, and his work on the cellar wasn’t moving along as quickly as he wanted.

Of course, with the Dark watching, he had to take his time and not let them realize what he was doing. Time was running out. If he didn’t learn where Rhi was before it was too late, everything he had done would be for naught.

He drove his SLS Roadster down the same road as he did every night, crossing the bridge into the city center of Cork and parked. The difference was, he didn’t park in the same location as he had the last few days. He chose the other side of town.

It was time he changed things up a bit. For the Dark, but more importantly for himself.

Kiril got out of the car, buttoned his suit jacket, and locked the car. He walked along the streets, effortlessly blending in with others—the drunks, the partiers, the tourists, and the locals. He stayed in the shadows, making it look as if it wasn’t on purpose. It made it easier for him to see how many Dark followed him.

Three. Two on foot and one on the rooftops.

How many would be watching Shara? Because he knew she would be there. Farrell’s anger had been palpable the night before. They thought they had hooked him that first night with Shara, and he made them think differently. They would put her back out that night, just as he had wanted them to do.

Because the simple truth was … he was hooked.

She had done something to him. All he could think about was her when he should be concentrating on finding Rhi. There were so many times lately that Rhi had been there to help the Kings out. He couldn’t let her down now.

Kiril paused as a group of female college students walked in front of him. Several eyed him, smiling in encouragement. Kiril gave them a nod and continued on once they passed.

His ire grew the longer he walked without encountering Shara. Until he turned a corner and saw her. It was like being punched in the gut, just like the first time he saw her.

She wore a sleeveless dark gold dress that skimmed her curves with a deep V down the front showing ample cleavage. Kiril bit back a moan of approval. Her hair was loose about her shoulders and styled in thick waves. Gold earrings molded in a thin line dangled from her ears, and the only other piece of jewelry was a gold bracelet on her right wrist.

She came to a stop when she saw him, a slow smile upon her lips. As expected, she had her glamour back up, hiding her red eyes and the silver stripe in her hair. It should worry him that her red eyes didn’t bother him. It meant she was evil, had done evil, and yet he didn’t care.

Was this how he repaid his brethren? Did he betray them so easily? If Rhys, Laith, Con, or one of the others were with him, they would tell him in no uncertain terms to get his head out of his ass and to stop thinking with his dick.

Con was right. He couldn’t do this, not by himself. But bringing another Dragon King to Ireland was asking for trouble. There had to be another way to find Rhi and spy on the Dark.

Kiril turned to the side, his back to the building. Shara’s smile disappeared and a frown marred her brow. As tempting as she was, he had to walk away. Because if he went to her now, he would kiss her, and one kiss wouldn’t be nearly enough.

He started back to his car with purposeful steps. Not once did he stop, not even when she called his name. When he reached the Mercedes, he rested his arms on the top and dropped his head to his chest.

For once he didn’t care who saw his conflicting emotions or what they thought of it. They could all go fuck themselves.

“Kiril.”

He squeezed his eyes closed. No. She couldn’t have followed him all the way back to his car.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered as she stepped close. “Talk to me.”

“Why?” he asked and lifted his head to glare at her. “Because we know each other so well? Because you’re my friend?”

She took a half step back, but she never looked away from him. “Because I asked.”

Kiril chuckled wryly. Mainly because he was screwed two ways from Friday. His attempt to get away from Shara had been taken out of his hands. He dropped his arms and faced her before yanking her against him, ignoring how good her arms felt as they rested on his shoulders.

He leaned down until his mouth was by her ear and whispered, “Was seducing me your idea? Or did Farrell send you?”

The slight stiffening of her body was her only response.

“I’ve known from the first instant I saw you. I can see through your glamour.”

She tried to pull away, but he held her fast. Anger sparkled in her eyes. “Why did you take me to dinner then?”

“Because you intrigued me.” He ran his hand down her back to rest on the spot above her ass.

“Intrigued?” she repeated, confusion causing her brow to pucker.

Did he hear a tremor in her voice? He splayed his other hand on her back and held her tighter. “Aye, lass. You can tell Farrell that, but the Dark willna capture me.”

“You should never have come here,” she said and leaned back to look at him.

“Do you even know what’s going on? Do you know that the Dark has aligned with MI5 and someone else? The Dark are no’ in control. They answer to others.”

“You’re wrong. The Dark are powerful.”

He shifted his hand from her back around to her side. She winced slightly, and he hated the concern that flared. His hand paused for a fraction as it came to rest on her abdomen. Then slowly, leisurely he moved his hand upward, over her breasts, feeling her nipple harden as he did, to her chest until his fingers wrapped around her neck.

“I could kill you right now, snapping your neck in two.”