Page 16 of Dark Desire (Dark Souls Spin-off Short Story)

“And how frequently would you say you experience them?”

I sighed, licking my lips as I thought about the right answer. “Maybe once a month. Sometimes less.”

“Right. And are you on any contraception?”

My eyes widened and lips parted as he stared at me expectantly. I knew he was a doctor and it was his job to ask questions but what the fuck?

“What does that have to do with migraines?”

“Well.” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together, trying to hide a smirk but failing. “If you’re suffering from aura migraines, the contraceptive pill isn’t safe for you to use, as it puts you at greater risk of a stroke.”

“Oh. Er, well, I am on it, but honestly, my migraines aren’t that bad. Evie is overreacting.”

He lifted his hand to his lips, hiding a smile.

“I see. My advice would be, if you aren’t sexually active right now, to take a break from the pill.

” He let that sentence linger in the air between us and when I refused to say anything, he continued.

“Your migraines may also be caused by stress. Are you under any stress, Darcie?”

“Right this minute, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. He laughed, thinking I was trying to be funny. I was not.

“Look.” He leaned forward, breaking his professional conduct or the small amount he had to begin with and grabbed my hand in his.

“I heard about what happened with all that nasty grave business. And I know it’s not nice when the whole village is talking about you.

But try not to let it bother you, yeah? And you can always talk to me. My door is always open, Darcie.”

I slowly removed my hand and gave him a tight smile. “Thank you, Dr Marshal. And thanks for your time.”

“Please. You know I am always Oliver to you.”

I stood up and he did, too, causing us to stand far too close to each other. I tried to take a step back, but knocked into my chair and wobbled. His hands shot out and grabbed onto my waist to steady me.

“Careful,” he whispered, still holding my hips. “Are you experiencing some dizziness now? Do you need to lie down?”

My magic was bubbling under my skin, urging me to send this man across the other side of the room for touching me again, but I had to control it. The biggest problem about being a witch in a human town? Never being allowed to expose yourself.

“No. I’m fine. Thanks again, Dr Marshal.” I made a point of not calling him Oliver and he didn’t like it, his smile falling as I stepped out of his hold. “Have a pleasant day.”

I walked out of his office feeling weird.

He’d always been persistent, but this time, my reaction to his unwanted attention felt so intense.

His touch made my skin crawl, which was just insane.

He was an attractive man, successful, nice enough, and yet I felt completely repulsed by him.

Today, more than ever. But give me a psycho in a devil mask and my body came alive with need. What the fuck was that about, Darcie?

I headed straight to the port, needing to clear my head, knowing that the only place that truly calmed me, besides the church, was sitting on the rock pools and watching the waves crash over them.

After finding my favourite spot away from tourists, I sat down and pulled out my spell book, opening it to the page I needed.

As I stared at the list of tried-and-tested ingredients, the Latin words, and my notes after each failed attempt to cast it, I felt my frustration grow.

The unfairness of my life was manifesting inside me, and I closed my eyes, reminding myself that others were far worse off than me.

Others had been through worse than I had.

But it didn’t help. Not today. All I kept thinking was that if I had belonged to a coven, if witches had raised me, I would have been taught how to conjure a spell from scratch.

I would be able to find the raven and change him back.

When my magic and The Fates sent me back in time to that night, I had no idea what year it was or where I was.

So it was impossible to find that raven without summoning it.

That’s if he was even still alive, because who knows how long he’s been stuck in that form?

My chest ached deeply at the thought. Maybe that was why my spells weren’t working. He was no longer alive. The sadness that overwhelmed me made me close my eyes, squeezing them tight to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. I couldn’t give up. I had to find out, one way or another.

The sound of movement in the water to my far left made me jump, and I turned to glance over at the rocks a short distance away.

My unbelieving eyes landed on a man. Not just any man.

The man. The same one I saw swimming in the sea a few days ago.

The very man in the photograph I had been obsessively staring at for hours every day and had set as my screensaver on my laptop. There he was. Right fucking there.

It took me a few seconds to realise my mouth had dropped open and I was in a complete trance as he placed his hands on the surface of a rock and lifted his body out of the water.

I watched those impressive biceps, bigger than my head, tense under his weight as his broad chest and each row of shredded abs slowly came into view.

My mouth was watering, and my heart skipped a beat when I realised he was. .. naked.

Completely, deliciously naked. No swimming shorts.

No underwear. Nothing. The curve of his tight, muscular ass came out of the water as he climbed onto the rock and stood up straight, running his hands through his long cherry-red hair as he scraped it back from his face.

I could only see one side of him but good lord, he was a masterpiece.

Oh, sweet mother of all things beautiful. Who the fuck was this living God?

Water ran down every contour of his enormous body and dripped at his feet as he stood there, completely unfazed that he was in his birthday suit for all to see.

My eyes darted around to check if anyone else was seeing this and I realised there was no one else around—only me and him, on our separate rocks.

He turned slightly, just enough to give me a glimpse of the outline of his massive cock between his legs and I nearly fainted on the spot.

My brain snapped back into gear when he wrapped a towel around his waist and then grabbed his rucksack and climbed back over the jagged rocks with such masculine agility I was drooling.

Shit. He was leaving. Move, Darcie! Don’t let him out of your sight again!

I shoved my spell book back into my bag and scrambled to my feet with zero grace at all, trying to weave and climb over the rocks that cut into the soles of my feet. Crap, I’d left my shoes behind but I couldn’t go back. I’d lose him completely.

I was almost at the port wall, pulling myself up, when I saw him vanish around the corner and down a small alleyway into the back streets of the village.

He was attracting plenty of looks from passersby for obvious reasons, but he didn’t seem to pay any attention.

He walked with the confidence of a man who gave zero fucks about anything. Just my type.

I ran after him, barefoot, embarrassingly puffing out of my ass because I was so unfit, but nothing was going to stop me from chasing him down.

Not even my pathetic lungs. I had no idea what I'd say when I finally caught up with him but fuck it.

That was my attitude from now on, wasn't it?

Maybe I'd just be bold and outrightly ask him if he wants to come back to my place for some wild sex. Oh, wait, I’m currently homeless. His place then.

As I turned down the narrow alleyway, his rippling back muscles disappeared around the last corner, and I swore.

Those long, muscular legs were so fast! Running, I stood on a shard of glass from a broken bottle, and I started hopping and cursing profusely.

I stopped only to pull out the shard, but I didn’t have time to worry about the blood gushing from my foot.

The things I would do for one last good fuck were both amusing and tragic.

He better not be a two-pump chump or I’d be furious.

Coming out of the alleyway, I spotted him crossing the road, still only with a towel hanging low around his waist in bloody December and strolled through the garden gate of a familiar cottage.

I paused, frowning deeply. With his back to me, he pulled out a key from his rucksack and let himself into Beryl Dorestone's cottage. What the hell?

Well, that wasn’t ideal. I let out a deep breath and tried to tame my wild hair that had bounced all over the place in the wind. Okay. Just knock on the door. He was bound to answer. He had literally just walked inside.

As I walked up the pathway, feeling slightly unhinged, shoeless and injured, I realised I wasn’t exactly putting my best self forward but…fuck it. I stopped at the ivy-covered front door, briefly closed my eyes, adjusted my jumper, and swept my curls out of my face.

I rang the doorbell.

Please don’t be Beryl. Please don’t be Beryl.

The door opened.