Chapter 1

Chapter One

The darkness was pulsing inside of me again. It felt like a physical thing buried deep in my chest, where it couldn’t be ripped out without taking me with it. I tried to contain it but could feel it clawing at my walls, shredding me from the inside.

Sometimes it seemed to wake up near Kicks; other times a threat awakened it. Then there were times like now, where there was no clear reason.

I spent my days with my guard up, afraid one weak moment would set it free, causing my downfall and that of many others. After all, something as dark as this felt could cause devastation with the powers I now possessed.

The mundane chore of kneading my bread wasn’t helping. I focused on calming it, but it was working into a frenzy, setting my senses on fire. The more other I became, the more I changed, the more I seemed to be drawn to things like baking and gardening. I’d do anything that made me feel more connected to the here and now.

“When we’re done, once my debt has been paid, I want this…whatever this is, out of me,” I said, wondering if Death was near and that was why it was pulsing. She never seemed too far, as if she were keeping close tabs on me. She’d saved Kicks, and in return, I was to be her vengeance. How long that job lasted, how much vengeance I’d be doling out, was pretty fuzzy.

I can’t take it back, Death said. I told you, that’s not how it works. What passes through you becomes part of you.

She’d actually bothered to respond to me. More often than not, she ignored me. Although I couldn’t see Death, that was its own blessing, with her twitchy, solid-black eyes.

I refrained from continuing the conversation. Talks with her never ended up beneficial to me. I went back to kneading my dough, listening to the crickets chirping outside.

The night was quiet other than them, making Kicks’ approach easier to hear, especially as my senses had been improving daily. Death hadn’t just gifted me with this darkness, but all sorts of little surprises and heightened senses. That was how I could tell by the sound of his determined steps that Kicks was heading here. I’d been waiting for this fight ever since I told him to move on.

In the weeks since, he’d seemed to try to give me my space, as if I’d change my mind. I wouldn’t. This was what was best. There was no future for us. I’d never be the mate he wanted, not with this darkness growing within me. He’d given enough. It was time for him to move on and have a peaceful life. Nothing about my future would be peaceful.

He didn’t kick the door or slam it shut, but it was obvious the second he’d stepped over the threshold that he was in warrior mode. He stood there, skin tanned, hair as dark as pitch and green eyes glowing with a heat that didn’t come close to human. He looked like a warrior god.

He glanced about the cabin, and then cocked an ear toward Charlie’s room. He wasn’t going to hear my little brother. Buddie had shown up earlier, asking Charlie if he wanted to come over to his place and play games. The timing was more than a little suspicious.

Kicks walked over to the table, where I was on my second batch of dough. He looked at my hands before locking eyes with me. Oh yes, he was itching for a fight. In truth, I wasn’t opposed to letting off a little steam. I had nothing but the unknown on the horizon and was jam packed with angst over what was coming my way. If he wanted to brawl, he’d come to the right place.

“You remember your little spiel a few weeks ago?”

Yep. Just as I’d guessed. He’d let my talk stew, trying to soften it but still couldn’t swallow it.

“Of course I remember my little spiel , as you call it.” I’d never forget the day I told him it was over. I kept my eyes down, afraid he’d see some flicker of regret. I punched my dough, finding another useful purpose to bread making.

“I don’t accept it,” he said.

Yeah, I already knew that. I didn’t need him to tell me. “Is that what you came here for, or did you have some other words of wisdom you needed to impart?” I forced my attention to stay glued to the dough. His rawness was already drawing me to him. Locking eyes would surely take me under.

“You’re not taking the easy way out. I won’t let you.” His voice was rough, fraying every exposed and overly sensitive nerve I had.

“ Let me? I hate to break this to you, but you don’t get a choice. I’m not sure why you think you do.” I’d known this fight was coming, and wasn’t averse to it, but I couldn’t let him get under my skin.

He moved closer until he was right beside me, my shoulder grazing his chest as I continued to knead my bread.

“I’m not letting you do this,” he said.

“It’s. Not. Your. Choice.” I punched my dough again and again, rethinking my eagerness to fight with him. I was rawer than the clump of dough on my table.

Then my dough disappeared. It landed on the floor and then slid another few feet, just so that it could pick up every drop of dirt possible, leaving a messy trail of stickiness and flour behind it.

I spun on him. That had been my best-looking dough yet—it was the first one that had actually seemed like it had a good texture—and he’d flung it across the room? He wanted a fight? Now he’d really get one.

I pointed to the poor, doughy carcass on the ground. “You ruined my dough!”

“Who gives a fuck about your dough? You’re ruining your life.”

“ I care about my dough.” He didn’t get it. I couldn’t fix my life. I shoved at his chest with both hands, leaving flour prints on his black shirt. He didn’t budge.

He stood unmoving as I continued to shove at his chest, thoroughly covering him in flour.

“So your dough is a problem but screw your life? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Don’t try to tell me what to do!” I yelled, and then punched him in the gut. He didn’t flinch.

“So for dough you’ll fight? That’s what’s important?”

He was either an idiot or refused to see. Did an ant fight a giant? There were no choices. I had no options. There was no fight. I wasn’t sure if he was purposely trying to piss me off or if this was a new skill set he’d picked up naturally.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I shoved at him again. It was clear I couldn’t move him or force him out of the cabin. The easiest thing to do was leave.

I moved around him, and he shifted in front of me.

“You’re really pushing my limits. Now get out of my way,” I yelled, still trying to avoid locking eyes with him. It was bad enough I could feel the heat he was throwing off.

“No. You’re not shutting me out. I won’t let you give up,” he said, blocking my way out.

“This?” I waved my finger back and forth between us. “This is nothing. This doesn’t work. This has no future. Now you need to get out.”

“No.” His voice was low but unmoving, just like him.

“I’m giving you one last warning. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“No.”

I cranked back my arm, planning on punching him square in the jaw. He deserved it, and he’d heal anyway. Death hurting him wasn’t a concern either. I was pretty sure she liked him better than me. She nearly hummed whenever she was near him.

I didn’t have a chance, as he caught my fist before I could land it. He wrapped his other arm around my waist, hoisting me onto the table and stepping in between my legs.

“I’m not letting you give up,” he said. “It’s not happening. If I have to drag you through this fight by your hair, I will do it. What’s it going to be?”

“You don’t understand.” He kept acting as if there was hope when there was none.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’m asking you to fight for you the way I am. I know you want me as much as I want you.”

I made the mistake of locking eyes with him.

His hips were in between my legs, his hands planted on either side of me. He was nearly on fire, throwing off waves of heat. It might’ve been from anger or frustration, but my body was responding with a different kind of heat.

My eyes dropped to his lips.

“Dammit, Piper,” he said, his voice all gravelly and nearly vibrating through me.

When his voice grew rough like this, it did something crazy to my insides, which were already feeling all sorts of funny. All I wanted to do was press into the bulge I could feel growing.

I arched into him, letting a soft moan out as the pressure brought relief and yet an unquenchable need.

Something deep in Kicks growled, and then he was pulling my hips hard against him, pressing into me while his other hand tangled in my hair, his mouth closing over mine and his tongue plunging in, keeping pace with the rocking of his hips.

He pushed forward until he was leaning over me, nearly covering my body with his.

As he moved over me, the darkness inside was nearly in a frenzy. I might’ve been able to ignore that, but then I heard Death purring near me.

I froze. Kicks felt me stiffening and leaned back.

I pushed at his chest. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

He dropped his forehead against mine as he strained not to move. Then, inch by inch, he slowly pulled away from me, looking strained.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just—”

He held up his hand, stopping me. He wiped his chest, dusting off some of the flour, and then walked out of the cabin.