Darkyn's Mate

Her pink hair was up in a bun that revealed the delicate cut of her elfin features. Her large blue-green eyes were clear and calm, the curves of her slender frame complemented by the cut and drape of the dress. Her lips were red and her features flushed from the fever. She sensed more than saw the largest difference within her. The sunny glow she was known for was gone, replaced by a sultriness rendered dangerous by the fangs resting on her lower lip.

She looked seductive, no longer sweet. The distinction left her feeling torn. She'd lost something when the Dark One turned her. At the same time, the petite woman in the mirror was beyond gorgeous, the combination of shimmering seductiveness and cool beauty stunning.

She had fangs.

Deidre closed the door, near tears once more. She raised the hourglass. She had to make it only a few more days.

"You still don't believe me."

She tensed at his low voice. She hadn't heard him enter but doubted the Dark One used doors.

"I don't know what to believe," she replied. "None of this is real."

"It is."

"What did you do to me?"

"I turned you."

"Into what?"

"What do you think?"

Deidre faced him. Across the room, Darkyn held the tension of a taut rubber band. His predatory gaze was on her. No part of his stance or piercing look was welcoming and yet, she felt the urge to cross to him. A flash of a dream went through her mind. It was of his lean body pressing her into the bed while they made love. She shook her head, not about to believe anything of the sort happened outside her nightmare.

Darkyn's hands were clasped behind his back. He approached her, eyes on her lips. Deidre didn't move, afraid of provoking him.

He reached out to take the hourglass, grazing her skin in the act. Her breath caught at the cool electricity that ran through her. She flushed. His gaze flickered to hers. He was coldly amused. He held up the hourglass in the space between them.

"Let's talk, shall we?" he asked.

"I don't think I want to," she replied. She felt too fragile to deal with him.

"Assume you win your bet. Do you really think you'll become Gabriel's mate?" he started, ignoring her. "The chances are slim it will work. Both of you bear the mating marks now. She had none before her death. She'd have to be dead-dead which could happen next week or in a millennium."

Deidre swallowed hard. She recalled the other thing she hated about interacting with him: he always knew how to read her deepest fears. He was good at throwing them back at her, too, like he was doing now.