The Dark King Read online

  Mother.

  Father.

  Aunt. Uncle.

  All titles my family had given themselves, but ultimately without merit. Though I loved them deeply, I felt betrayed.

  I knew it was something that my parents just couldn’t handle addressing, on top of everything else. I told myself that I would take it up with them when the business got better and when we didn’t have to stress about firing someone or covering a shift. I wanted to give them at least some type of ease. I knew they loved me and tried to shelter me from any pain, and I knew this would ultimately break them.

  For now, their feelings would come before mine.

  As I listened to Teddy daydream out loud on many of those summer days, the desire to leave North Carolina and the tiny island of Roanoke grew within me. Maybe what I needed more than anything was to escape.

  Run away.

  Go to some faraway land, study in a foreign country, learn a new language, a new way of being, and just immerse myself in a world that was unfamiliar. It all sounded so enticing. Surely with my grades, I would be able to do it.

  Once those thoughts had taken hold, they never left. Even on the long summer days and nights, on walks with Famous through Roanoke, through the woods, and even now back in school, I still allowed myself to dream.

  I reached my assigned locker, 707, and dropped my backpack on the ground as I looked down at my new class schedule.

  Manteo High was certainly buzzing with the energy of the new year. The halls were alive with the excitement of all the students who were becoming reacquainted with the idea of being back in school. Even though I promised to become the stronger version of myself, I pathetically scanned the crowd, secretly hoping I would catch a glimpse of Devilyn. Silently praying that I would see the guy who occupied both my dreams and most of my waking moments break through one of the crowds somewhere at the end of the hallway.

  But I didn’t.

  In fact, I hadn’t seen him all summer.

  Not even once.

  I was almost starting to believe he had disappeared without a trace. Then while wrapping up my shift at the diner I heard someone mention his name. I almost missed it. If I hadn’t been wiping down a table the group had been sitting next to, I would have. But the moment I heard his name, I froze and immediately held my breath.

  “Devilyn Reilly hasn’t been to any practices this summer,” said J.D. Larson, one of the linebackers on our school football team.

  “How can the coach allow that? It’s really not fair,” another player practically whined. His name was Jeff Henderson and he was best friends with Brian Baker, who was the star quarterback until Devilyn’s infamous arrival.

  “He’s apparently been out of the country with his grandfather. I guess when you’re the star you can get away with that,” J.D. continued, rolling his eyes.

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t come back.”

  “You like losing?”

  “No, but I’d like some attention. And ever since he’s been around, none of us have gotten any.”

  The group seemed to agree, but I had heard enough. I quickly finished up the table and began walking away, but stopped in my tracks when one of the players who’d been quiet the whole time finally spoke up. “Seriously, though, I heard he actually might not be coming back. Like, ever.”

  Those words were gut-wrenching.

  Not coming back?

  I couldn’t believe it. The thought of not seeing him ever again was so devastating I refused to even entertain the idea. Looking back, I probably should have seen the signs. He had been absent quite a bit at the end of the school year. But on the last day of school, I saw him and I remembered our last conversation. It was actually one that I would never forget.

  No matter how you feel about high school, the last day of every year is always heavy. There’s the senior class that’s leaving, some for good, the juniors that are suddenly becoming the new leaders of the school, and the rest, who are still somewhere in limbo, not having found their way.

  In the middle of all of this is the signing of the class yearbooks. Students walk around campus, building up the nerve to have a few words scribbled on this memento of their youth. It’s the yearly tradition that immortalizes high school for a lifetime.

  I remember sitting on a bench outside by the football field, flipping through my yearbook and looking at all of the photos and faces, and wondering at how crazy life was. It all seemed to just fly by. Things could change so quickly, and before you knew it, those years in high school were all done, and all we had left were a few pictures and distant memories.

  I felt him arrive before I even saw him.

  When I looked up, he was making his way toward me. He had the ability to change the pattern of my breathing with just one glance. No one in my life had ever done that to me. He was heart-stoppingly beautiful. His black hair windblown, brushed away from his face. His dark eyes, intense. His height and body, staggering. He fit clothes so well. It was sick. He had on blue jeans and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up. He looked like he was ready for a summer vacation on some fabulous island. He had his yearbook in one hand as he approached.

  “Caroline.”

  I loved the way he said my name. It kind of just rolled off his tongue, sounding almost like an endearment, but then I pretty much knew that was wishful thinking on my part.

  “Hey, Devilyn.” I hoped I didn’t sound too anxious.

  He nodded to the seat next to me, and I shifted over to give him some room as his large frame literally took up all the space on the bench. Our knees brushed against each other, and the feeling was like an electric charge rushing through my body.

  He put his elbows on his knees and leaned over his long legs to look at me. The sun hit him from behind in an almost ethereal way. He was so tall and broad, so like what you’d imagine a warrior to be like. He was all man.

  “How have you been?”

  “Good.” I nodded at him, shocked that he’d even ask. Hoping that he really cared about the answer.

  “How are you?”

  More importantly, where have you been?

  He smiled sadly at me and looked over at the football field.

  “I’ve actually been spending a lot of time with my grandfather. At his company. Learning the lay of the land, so to speak.” He hesitated for a minute. “He hasn’t been well and needed my help with some things.”

  I nodded. I definitely understood family obligation.

  “Has the school been okay with you being gone so much?”

  “Yes, actually. They’ve let me take my homework assignments home.”

  I examined his face, noticing subtle changes since I’d last seen him. There was definitely a new maturity about him. For some reason I felt sorry for him, even though he wasn’t one you’d ever think to pity. I wanted to reach out and touch his hand, let him know that I understood the pressure he was under. But I hesitated, knowing that my touch would likely be unwelcome. After a minute or so, he picked up his yearbook and pushed it into my hands.

  “Besides, you just can’t even begin to understand.” He sat up and ran his hands through his hair.

  The comment stung because on many levels I did understand.

  “You know you can trust me. I know we’re not that close, but I would never betray you.” The words came out slowly, awkwardly. Once they were out, I was embarrassed I’d said them.

  He sat there for a moment and just stared into my eyes.

  “Do you think so little of me?” he whispered.

  Before I knew it, he grabbed my chin and turned my head so I would have to face his gaze. I could sense a bit of anger and frustration there, but I was fully focused on the feel of his skin against mine. And the rush that I got from that single touch. He let his hand drop quickly, and I saw the change in his eyes, from irritation to something else, something I didn’t quite understand.

  “What reason have I ever given you to think that I don’t trust you?” he asked softly.


  “You just said that I don’t understand what you are going through. I would think that you know I do. I spend every waking moment at my parents’ restaurant. I know something about responsibility. Maybe you just don’t want to share anything with me because you think that I’ll tell someone.”

  He looked away for a minute, took in a deep breath, and shook his head as he looked back at me.

  “I know that you are intimately familiar with family obligation,” Devilyn acknowledged. “But trust me when I say that my family is very different. Not better or worse, just different. My pressures are insurmountable and make me feel claustrophobic. And I honestly don’t want to burden anyone else with my problems. They are mine to solve.”

  I nodded.

  “Listen, I’d like to sign your yearbook. Would you sign mine?”

  I smiled slowly, noting how quickly he had changed the subject. His way of politely telling me to mind my own business. I looked down at his book and conceded defeat.

  “I’d love to.”

  Now the real struggle would begin. Crap. Now I’d have to write something. What was I going to say? What would be cool? He was sure to think I was an imbecile. My mind raced as I tried to piece together sentences in my head.

  “Caroline?”

  He interrupted my train of thought.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, are you going to give it to me?”

  “Yes! Of course. Here you go.” I knew I was blushing as we exchanged yearbooks. I managed to give him an awkward smile but knew he could probably tell how unnerved I was. He seemed to notice everything. One of the attributes I secretly hated about him.

  Now back to the misery at hand.

  “Caroline.”

  My heart stopped. What had my face given away this time? I allowed my gaze to slowly meet his.

  “Yes?”

  He stared at me for a moment in a way that did all sorts of crazy things to my heart. He tilted his head to the side and gave me a really sexy smile.

  I could feel the beads of sweat forming on my neck. Yep, there they were, slowly inching down my back. I hated that he did this to me … and no doubt the rest of the female population at Manteo. He honestly had to be the best-looking man I had ever seen.

  “There isn’t much space there, you know. It doesn’t have to be deep or profound. No sonnets or love letters, Ms. F. Scott Fitzgerald.”

  Yep, I was officially mortified.

  “No, it definitely won’t be a love letter,” I managed to say. “And it definitely won’t be profound. I’ve honestly just been writing the same thing over and over again, and I just wanted yours to be different.”

  Oh god. Why did I say that out loud? What was wrong with me?

  “Anything you write, even if you just sign your name, will be special to me.”

  I immediately took in a deep breath. I was sure he could sense my growing hysteria. His look was so intense, so penetrating, but for what it’s worth, I think I matched it.

  It was, after all, the last day of school.

  “Thanks, Devilyn. That’s really sweet of you.” I impulsively reached out and placed my hand on his, feeling his muscles tense.

  Within seconds of our contact, a million images flashed before my eyes. The simple impression felt like an electric shock running through my body. Everything happened so quickly. Glimpses, one after another, came before me.

  One minute we were standing together at the Elizabethan Gardens.

  Looking at each other.

  Devilyn holding each of my arms.

  Staring down at me. His dark eyes illuminated.

  Glowing.

  Eyes that no longer seemed human.

  Like something else.

  Something ethereal. Yet so familiar.

  Devilyn immediately moved his hand away.

  Did he notice it, too?

  There was no way he couldn’t have because his look went from playful to serious without explanation. He cleared his throat and began to flip through the pages of my yearbook as I sat there speechless, reeling from what happened only seconds before. I looked down. There was a definite heaviness in the air between us, with him, really weighing on him.

  On me.

  And for the life of me I didn’t know why.

  But I wanted desperately to break it.

  “Are you really okay?”

  He surprised me by shaking his head.

  “No. I’m not okay,” he said as he pulled out a pen. “But it’s a situation that just is. Thanks, though, for asking.”

  “I’m sure your grandfather will push through whatever it is, Devilyn. The man I met is strong. I don’t think anything could ever break him. Your life isn’t ending and neither is his.”

  “You’re right,” he said as he clicked his pen. “But it’s hard to convince myself of that.”

  I watched him for a minute, then decided to focus on the task at hand. I was surprised to see that no one else had written a thing inside. I guess I was his first signature. I was kind of honored. I found a picture of Devilyn playing football. Fitting. It was a black-and-white shot of him without his helmet on, his hair sweaty from practice, hands on his hips as he gazed fiercely at something in front of him with the intensity that was so him. He really was photogenic. He could totally model if he wanted. I looked down at the page and quickly began writing.

  Dear Devilyn,

  Have fun over the summer break. I’m glad we finally became friends. I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.

  Love,

  Caroline

  Short but sweet. I wondered if it was too much, but before I could think about it any longer, he shut my book.

  “Looks like we finished at the same time.”

  “I’ve got to head out. I’m having dinner with my family,” he said as he stood up.

  I nodded.

  “I guess I’ll see you around?” He turned to walk away, but I got up suddenly, bravely, I should say, and called out to him. He stopped and gave me a smile that took my breath away.

  “Don’t I get a hug goodbye?” Where the heck I got this surge of courage I have no idea. But I told myself it was only a hug.

  But from the look on Devilyn’s face, I wished I hadn’t.

  Only ten feet of grass separated us, yet it felt like miles as each of us stared at the other, waiting for what seemed like an eternity for someone to say something. My mouth went completely dry. What more could I say? I was desperate to take back the idiotic words that had just escaped me.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” I stammered out. Could the ground open up and swallow me whole? I wanted to die from embarrassment.

  “Don’t.” Devilyn’s voice was harsh. He took a second, closed his eyes, and then completely surprised me. “Don’t say that.”

  In one second he had closed the gap, stopping only inches before me, placing his hands on my shoulders as he looked down at my crimson face. I had to lean my head back to look at him; he was so tall.

  My heart stopped beating.

  He lifted his hand and stopped an inch short of cupping my cheek. I wanted to lean into that hand so badly but stopped myself with all of my will.

  Suddenly, he whispered something in a language I didn’t understand then pulled me straight into his arms, enveloping me in his warmth and strength. I held on to him tightly as he slowly placed his hands around my waist, moving one of them up my arms and gently through my hair.

  With my arms wrapped around him, I had no choice but to allow my head to be pulled back away and stare at him. His eyes were dark and glowing. The heat that crept up my skin was overwhelming. The desire for him, to kiss him, was earth-shattering. His hooded gaze moved to my lips, and I thought he would for sure kiss me. I wanted him to so badly.

  But he didn’t.

  He leaned in, a breath separating us. I was so close to his lips. I could actually feel them.

  “Take care of yourself, beautiful.”

  And then he stepped away. />
  Leaving me behind. Watching him until he disappeared.

  And now I wondered if that had been our last goodbye.

  Chapter Two

  “As the Legend goes, when the Phoenix resurrects from the grave, she is even more beautiful than before.”

  The Dark

  Puck was indeed one of the more cunning of the Dark Fae. He had spent his long lifetime always staying ahead of the tides. He knew how to navigate through the ebb and flow of the universe, while always managing to come out on top. A new Dark King sat on the throne of black crystals, but instead of pledging his loyalty to him above all others as everyone else had, Puck secretly hid in the shadows, observing his surroundings cautiously. He was no fool. He knew that this King was nothing like Alderon. This King, though he claimed to be their one true master, was nothing like any of them, for he was trained by a different master. He could easily declare that he was their one true leader, but behind those words lay a different truth.

  He would never be like them.

  Many fires destroying entire cities had started from one small spark.

  His light would never dissipate.

  Not ever.

  Not when it was part of his soul.

  So Puck observed him and bided his time, surveying the new King from a distance.

  He despised the pathetic looks of longing that would come over his face when the mortal girl’s name was mentioned. The King thought he hid his feelings well, but Puck knew differently. He would break, and when he did, Puck would be there to gather the information he needed. He would be there to rescue his true master.

  Alderon’s whereabouts would soon be revealed.

  It just required patience.

  And time.

  And time was definitely on his side.

  D

  I needed some fresh air.

  Just a moment to myself. Time away from the darkness that seemed as if it were swallowing me whole. I needed to think without the prying eyes that surrounded me. Eyes that I feared could sense my doubt, my pain, and more importantly, my loss.