Deadly Darkness Read online

  DEADLY DARKNESS

  VICTORIA ZAK

  Copyright

  Deadly Darkness - Victoria Zak

  Copyright 2018 by Victoria Zak

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the author and publisher.

  All characters, events, and locations in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or living, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover Design: JAB Designs

  Editing: Violetta Rand

  Created with Vellum

  CONTENTS

  Newsletter Signup Victoria Zak

  Praise for Victoria Zak

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Book 3 Wicked Darkness - Sneak Peek

  Newsletter Signup Victoria Zak

  About Victoria Zak

  More Books by Victoria Zak

  Sign up for Victoria Zak’s newsletter to receive a free copy of her Guardians of Scotland novella

  Highland Destiny

  You’ll also find additional special offers, bonus content and info on new releases.

  www.victoriazakromance.com

  [email protected]

  PRAISE FOR VICTORIA ZAK

  “Victoria Zak is an author with a great imagination. Her fast-paced writing quickly pulls the reader in to her beautiful worlds.” —USA Today bestselling author Kathryn Le Veque

  “Victoria Zak creates mystical Highlanders like no one else.” —USA Today bestselling author Barbara Devlin

  “A strong new voice is rising in Paranormal Highlander Romance with Victoria Zak.”—USA Today bestselling author Suzan Tisdale

  1

  TODAY WAS the day her life would end, Adaira felt it bone-deep as she ran through the glen like the devil was coming for her. For a fortnight, the dark fae prince had chased her in the woods, hunting her like prized game. He’d worn her down mentally and physically beyond exhaustion. She didn’t know how much longer it would take before he stripped her of the will to live—to fight for what she believed in.

  The prince played cat and mouse to perfection—leaving no doubt who the mouse was. One minute she’d be within his icy grip thinking she’d be returned to the queen, and the next, the prince would let her go—prolonging the inevitable for his own twisted amusement.

  Hope of making it out of the glen alive was fading, but Adaira held on to the one thing that made her fight—her beloved sisters. They were depending on her.

  The thought of her family gave her strength. She stopped and looked behind her. Although she was no longer being chased, it didn’t mean she wasn’t being followed. She dashed behind a tree, hoping to outwit the devil.

  She leaned her head back and prayed the prince hadn’t seen her. Her heart thundered as she anticipated another attack. Just the thought of returning to the Unseelie queen tattered her willpower. It was as if the queen was clawing at her, dragging her back inside a nightmare. A nightmare that Adaira had lived through for the past ten years.

  Suddenly, something wet slid down her leg. Lifting her dress, she rubbed her calf. Blood soaked through her wool stockings and onto her hand.

  Maiden, Mother, Crone? She searched her body to find where the blood was

  coming from. A sting spread across her back and she reached over her shoulder, wincing as she swiped at her skin. Shite, the bastard had gotten her.

  It wouldn’t be long until the fae poison entered her bloodstream where the bastard had slashed her back with his claws. She was doomed.

  Adaira hung her head. That’s when she noticed the bloodstained snow.

  The trail of blood led straight to her location. Nay! What was she going to do? The prince would surely find her now.

  The earth suddenly shifted, causing her to freeze. No mere mortal would have felt it. The air around her flickered like a flame. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end from the powerful charge. He’s here. There was no time to react; the prince swooped down from the sky and landed a few yards from the tree. Terror streaked down her spine.

  He settled his great black wings and searched the area with his keen gaze.

  Adaira sucked in a breath, standing as still as the dead. The prince scooped up a handful of blood-soaked snow and inhaled deeply. Her essence was everywhere—the bastard would find her.

  Adaira hugged the tree tighter, murmuring the only words of protection she could think of, Maiden, Mother, Crone. Spare me. Or just let me die before he finds me…

  She gasped for air, finding the courage to fight. Surrendering wasn’t an option. She needed to think clearly on how she was going to escape. Weak from blood loss, her muscles ached. Though she possessed unnatural strength, she wasn’t immune to pain and suffering. And the wet cold had finally taken its toll. She needed rest and warmth—shelter from the prince.

  The sound of snow crunching beneath his boots echoed around her. He was so close she could hear his heartbeat.

  Oh, goddess, please. Please do no’ let him see me. She closed her eyes and pressed herself flatter against the tree. The rough bark bit into her flesh like jagged teeth.

  The prince crept past her like a fine mist floating through the glen. She cursed herself for being weak. If she had half her strength, she could attack him, rip his throat out, and personally deliver it to the queen. That wasn’t going to happen. Instead, she had to outsmart the fae. She’d die before she’d allow him to bring her back to the queen.

  Taking in a shallow breath, she eyed him again. He’d moved several feet ahead, studying the trees and ground in front of him. He knelt and scooped up another handful of snow. Adaira welcomed the distance between them,

  though it wasn’t far enough.

  Mayhap she’d live to see another night.

  He stood and looked up into the sky. Slowly, he tilted his head from side to side like he was listening to something or mayhap someone. Fearing for her life, Adaira slowed her breathing as she kept her eyes pinned on the prince. He spread his massive black wings, stretching them wide. What is he doing? He knew she was here and weak. Why hadn’t he gone in for the kill?

  He crouched down, and with one pump of his wings, he flew up into the sky disappearing behind the clouds.

  Dearest Maiden … she sighed in relief as she peeled herself from the tree.

  She coughed through the coldness in her throat. On shaky, weak legs she took a step forward, then collapsed into the snow. Her body was shutting down.

  All she wanted was rest; however, if she surrendered to exhaustion she’d surely die. The prince didn’t give up on his prey this easily. He’d return—she had to keep moving.

  With all her might, she found the strength to stand. She brushed the snow off her dress and straightened her spine. “Leana, I will find ye.”

  The day turned colder and darker as the graying clouds engulfed the sky.

  She shook her head as she continued trudging through the snow. The fae poison was slowly dulling her wits. It would kill her if she didn’t tend to her wounds quickly. She couldn’t remember how many days she’d been on the run, but the grow
ing pain drove her to find shelter.

  Adaira stopped abruptly and squinted through the snow flurries. Smoke billowed up ahead. Where there’s smoke there must be fire, and where there’s fire, there must be shelter. Could she trust what she was seeing? Or was this fae poison trickery? At this point, she hadn’t any choice. If she didn’t get the poison out of her body, she’d die. And if she stayed outside in the cold much longer, she’d perish from exposure.

  Adaira forced her exhausted body to keep going. Black and silver tents dotted the landscape. She heard men’s voices in the distance. Aye, this was a campsite, but whose? Why were they camped in the middle of nowhere?

  She crept to the closest tent, the fire more inviting than anything she’d ever seen. Keeping watch, she warmed her hands over the flames. Her body slowly tingled back to life as she prayed this wasn’t a dream, that she wasn’t lying in the snow somewhere dying.

  But death visions didn’t include the smell of smoke or fine ash drifting high in the nighttime air. This had to be real.

  The frigid wind shook the tent, startling Adaira. She quickly retreated into the shadows, waiting to see if anyone would come out . She shivered, imagining herself inside the shelter, tucked beneath a thick fur with a bowl of hot broth in her hands. Her knees buckled. The poison smoldering in her veins was spreading. Someone had to be around to help her. Were these honorable men or beasts like the prince? Would they assist her?

  Before she collapsed from exhaustion, Adaira staggered through the snow to the tent and walked in. “Hello?” The word came out as a mere whisper.

  When no one answered, Adaira stepped deeper inside. She rubbed the cold from her arms as she looked around. A fur pallet was situated on one side and a sword and water skin were laid out next to it.

  Another sharp wind rattled the canvas, but this time it was different. It howled with warning. Adaira’s gaze zigzagged across the shelter as the shadow of a wolf appeared on the outside. Consumed with fear, she knew she didn’t possess the strength to fight. She moved quickly, grabbing up the sword, ready to strike if she had to. But the beast was nowhere to be seen.

  This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. Wolves were as relentless as the dark prince. The bloody bastards hunted in packs and didn’t give up—not until the hunt was over—until their prey was dead. Adaira wasn’t ready to enter the barren realm of death— she’d fight. If they wanted her, they’d have to come and get her.

  A wolf howled and three more shadows appeared, circling the tent.

  “Show yerself, wolf,” she cried out with the last bit of strength she possessed, the sword almost too heavy to lift.

  She followed the shadows around the inside of the tent, ready to pierce their furry flesh through the heavy material. Her back was facing the tent’s entrance when a cold blast of air rushed inside. A wolf had entered the tent.

  She felt its breath on the back of her neck.

  Heeding her instincts, Adaira whirled around, the sword raised high in the air. A gray wolf stalked closer, snarling and snapping at her. Shite, the poison. Would she even be able to swing the heavy weapon? Surely the beast could sense her weakened state and smell her fear. Any sudden movement would invoke an attack.

  Too weak to hold on to the sword, it dropped from her hand. The beast lunged and she squeezed her eyes shut, ready to feel its sharp teeth bite into her skin. When she didn’t end up on the ground with the wolf gnawing at her neck, she opened her eyes and gasped.

  The world was spinning as she staggered forward, finding a naked man with long dark hair streaked with gray standing in front of her. She reached out and touched his face, burying her shaking fingers in his thick beard.

  Familiar silver eyes bore straight through her. By the saints, she knew those eyes, for they haunted her dreams.

  “Rafe?” She swayed and fell forward. Strong arms caught her, pulling her into a wall of pure muscle and warmth.

  “My heart’s queen.” The rugged voice she knew so well soothed her aching body. His words assured her safety. “I will take care of ye.”

  Adaira rested her head on his chest, letting him hold her up. “Rafe,” she swallowed, struggling to talk. “Poison.”

  “Shhh, let me take care of everything.”

  Adaira’s world faded into a black void, but her heart was safe.

  2

  WAS HE DREAMING? Was he holding the woman he loved in his arms? Rafe looked down at the lass. He brushed a strand of black hair from her face.

  Flawless pale skin…full red lips…high cheekbones. “Have my eyes deceived me?” He caressed her face ever so gently. “My queen.” Rafe picked Adaira up, cradling her close to his chest. “What has happened to ye?”

  He laid Adaira on the bed. Bewildered, he hovered over her. His heart skipped a beat as pale, blue eyes looked up at him.

  “Rafe,” she moaned. “Help me.” Her eyes shut.

  Thank the gods he’d called his men off before he entered the tent. One second later and she’d have been ripped limb-from-limb. He took a step back.

  Adaira, the woman he’d been ordered to hunt down and bring back to Cormag, was lying in his tent.

  Rafe shoved his hands through his hair, then paused. He noticed a smear of black blood on his arm. Struck with worry, he gently rolled Adaira over.

  The back of her dress was shredded and blood oozed from slashes across her flesh. Rafe ran his finger through the blood, then sniffed it. “Fae filth,” he growled.

  Rage boiled through his veins. The fae who had dared hurt Adaira would pay.

  “Milord.”

  The disruption made Rafe jerk. Quickly, he threw a fur over Adaira before anyone could notice her.

  “Did ye catch the intruder?” Ranger asked.

  “Aye, and the wench will pay for trespassing,” he seethed and nodded to

  the lump of furs with a wicked grin.

  Ranger’s lips curled in approval. “A lass?”

  “Aye.”

  “What business does a lass have here out in the snow?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

  “Here.” Ranger handed Rafe a tankard of mead. “Ye’ll be needing this to quench your thirst. It might be a long night.” He winked.

  “Aye.” Rafe gestured for him to get the hell out.

  Ranger nodded and left.

  Alone with Adaira again, he turned back to the pallet. She groaned, and Rafe knelt beside her. Having the woman he was expected to capture in his tent was dangerous. No one could know she was here. He threw the furs back and then ripped her dress open. Her condition was much worse than he thought. The wounds were deep and she had lost a lot of blood. Grabbing one of his tunics from the floor, he blotted the blood and cleansed the wounds with mead. He needed to get a better look at them so he could determine what to do.

  Rafe had been playing with fire the day he set eyes on Adaira. She was the daughter of the laird who had given his pack protection. Once he looked into her blue eyes, there was no turning back. His wolf yearned to protect her, a sign he couldn’t ignore. No matter how many times Adaira had pushed him away, there was no denying that she was his mate.

  Doughall Keith was a complicated man, yet Rafe remained loyal because Doughall had given him a home—a new start in life. Rafe’s kind wasn’t welcome in Scotland, not after endless rumors had spread across the seas about the mad wolf who’d slaughtered hundreds of the Welsh. But the tale fell on deaf ears in Doughall’s hall. The pack’s savagery and abilities intrigued the laird, and was exactly what Clan Keith needed to defend their land from Clan Gunn. That’s how the Honor Guard was created.

  However, he never dreamed one day he’d be hunting the woman he loved. Under Cormag’s rule, the Honor Guard turned into nothing more than the laird’s attack dogs, taking care of his dirty work. When Adaira and her sisters were accused of murdering the laird’s son, they fled Dornoch. Rafe was ordered to bring them to justice. There was no way in hell that he’d remain loyal to a man who vowed to destroy the one thi
ng that was good in his life. Protecting Adaira overshadowed the risk of going against the laird’s orders. He’d lost Adaira once, he wasn’t losing her again. Not even his pack

  could stand in his way.

  His pack was honorable, but with a hefty bounty on the Keith sisters’

  heads, greed clouded their judgment. No doubt, he played a dangerous game.

  If Cormag found out he aided the Keith sisters, he’d burn with them.

  He finally stopped the bleeding, yet she still reeked of poison. He stood and walked over to his satchel where he pulled out a bag of dried mint leaves.

  Many times, he’d used such leaves to heal his own wounds. It would relieve some of the pain, too, but fae magic was tricky. Only the fae could reverse its effects.

  Rafe sat down next to Adaira and gently covered the wounds with the dried leaves. Her flesh, cold and pure as fallen snow, beckoned him. It had been too damn long since he’d held her in his arms. He slid his hands down her ribs, gently caressing the sides of her full breasts. Aye, his dark angel had come back to him.

  Mesmerized, he fell deeper into Adaira’s spell. By the saints, he’d missed her. He hadn’t seen her since the night she’d left Dornoch. A memory surfaced of that night. While everyone was celebrating Samhain, Adaira had met him at their secret place, behind the castle near the cliff’s edge. Waves crashed against the rocky shoreline below. Adaira had been lying beneath him beautifully naked, her black hair fanned out over the grass. Her eyes twinkled like sapphires in the moonlight. He licked his lips, remembering her sweet, tender mouth and the taste of salt on her skin as he’d kissed her body.

  Her breathless moans of pleasure escaping her were like heaven to his ears.

  Aye, the smell of sex had been in the air. That night, a wild passion burned between them.

  Rafe took in a shaky breath. Memories like these were what good dreams were made of. They were the dreams that chased away the darkness. They were the dreams that kept hope alive that one day Adaira would come back to him.

  Frustrated, he fisted his hands and growled. “Adaira, do not go where I cannot follow.”