Home > Dark Surrender (The Dark Ones Saga #3)(17)

Dark Surrender (The Dark Ones Saga #3)(17)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“You were saying?” I asked in a calm, detached voice.

Hope rubbed her head. “But the door’s open.”

Mason sighed and slowly walked through it — still naked — and called back. “Come along, Elf.”

“My name is Hope!”

“That’s what I said!” he yelled back then completely disappeared around the corner.

“Is he hard of hearing?” She directed the question back to me.

“Come on.” I gripped her hand and walked through the wall to the other side.

“Whoa.” She stumbled into me. “How come it worked when I was touching you?”

“Mates can’t do things alone,” I said in a pathetically hoarse voice. Like my body was elated, turned on by the fact. “Therefore, where you go, I go. Always.”

I dragged her down the hall toward the back entrance where I’d left my car.

“Wait.” She dug in her heels.

I stopped only because I was too drained to fight her anymore. I needed sex, and I needed it hours ago.

Or I was going to die.

Literally.

“What?” I barked.

“Mason called me Elf, not Hope.”

“Elf.” I spat the word and then rubbed my face with my free hand. What I wouldn’t do for at least a kiss — something to sustain the urges, the itching, the emptiness. “The word elf is synonymous with Hope. Before we labeled you as a race, you were called, ‘the ones who bring forth Hope.’ Ergo, the race of Hope.”

“But—

“If we do not get to Ethan’s house before I can control myself, I will kill you during sex. Is that what you want?” I tried to sound sane, but my voice had a shaking, hollow edge to it that I knew terrified the hell out of her.

“Y-yes.”

“You escape, I find you. We’re linked now.”

Though I had no idea how since we hadn’t joined, nor had there been mention of love or forever. But still.

Another jerky nod.

“One more thing,” I helped her into the passenger door of my white Lexus. “More than twenty-four hours without touching me — will only bring death.”

I ignored the twinge of guilt I felt at her pale expression.

She didn’t need to know it was my death I was concerned about — she didn’t need to know she would survive just fine — because I had a feeling that if she did leave — I would cease to exist while the royal elf continued on without me.

It was the worst feeling in the world.

Next to knowing—that my mate was a part of the race that held my shame.

Hope

I TRIED TO stop shaking.

I really did.

But I was in a car with an immortal, and I was still awake as in, I wasn’t dreaming or even having a nightmare. This was real. And he’d just basically told me if I didn’t have sex with him. I would die.

Was he lying?

Too many thoughts rushed to the surface, thoughts about elves, about Alex, about why I needed to touch him, why I wanted to touch him, why I craved him even when Mason seemed friendlier, albeit in a pet sort of a way.

It was insanity.

Because I wanted to run.

My mind told me that was really the only logical choice I had.

But my body leaned toward him, wanted him, thirsted for him. And I felt like a complete fool that I had to actually concentrate on not touching him every single time I sucked in a much-needed breath.

His golden skin pulsed before my eyes. Like legitimately pulsed causing a shiver of awareness to wash through me as he slowly exhaled and pulled up to a stoplight only to curse and jerk the steering wheel right and take us down an alleyway before popping out on the other side and nearly running us into a semi.

I double checked my seat belt then gripped the door handle just to keep myself from slamming into his rock hard body.

“Immortals have road rage too.” I nodded as I talked to myself. “Good to know.”

“I need you not to do that.” He finally broke his silence with his gruff voice.

Frowning, I glanced over at his perfect face and barely kept back a whimper as it built in my throat. “Do what? Exactly?”

“Talk.” He grit his teeth. “At all.”

“Ever?”

“Now.” He said slowly and loudly, like I was hard of hearing.

I was irritated. Hot. Angry. Scared. And he’d just asked me not talk or ask questions. “Well, can I breathe or is that against the rules too?”

“Still talking.” He slammed his hand across the steering wheel. “Absolute death wish.”

“I thought I only died if I left you or if you can’t control yourself during sex.” I really needed to snap my trap shut. His crazy purple and gold eyes hit me like a lightning bolt before he jerked his attention back to the road and shook his head. “That’s still talking.”

“I know but—”

“Literally.” He whispered hoarsely. “Not figuratively. But literally…” His body pulsed faster, harder, louder, like I could hear his heart hammering inside, the blood roaring to the surface. “I will kill you if I don’t calm the hell down, and every time you speak, I taste you. Again, not figuratively, literally. So if I were you, I’d sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride, because the next time you get one, it’s going to be rough.”

I felt my cheeks heat.

He meant in a car, right?

Not… I gulped and chanced a glance out of the corner of my eye as his breathing slowed and then, of course, because I was hallucinating, I could have sworn he finally exhaled and relaxed.

   
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