Page 7 of The Darkest Knight (The Cursed Kingdom #3)

Chapter Seven

N iall pulled on the soft blue pants, their unfamiliar texture feeling strange against his skin. He’d seen Padriag wear something similar and heard him call them jeans. The name was odd, but the material had a certain sturdiness to it that surprised him. Perhaps they were better suited for riding or battle than his trusted breeches. He ran his fingers over the fabric, marveling at its resilience, and yet, despite their practicality, a part of him still felt unsettled in these strange clothes, in this modern world.

The cottage was silent beyond the door, an oppressive stillness that gnawed at him. Was Tamara still there? Her angry voice echoed in his mind, the memory of her pounding on the bathroom door. She’d had every right to be furious. His behavior had been unpardonable, and he knew it.

A groan escaped his lips, low and filled with regret, as he sank onto the edge of the bed, his head dropping into his hands. What had he done? The weight of his actions was a crushing burden, the consequences too terrible to truly consider. He had always prided himself on his control, his discipline. And yet, with Tamara, something had overtaken him—a force so powerful, so overwhelming, that it had shattered the walls he’d spent centuries building.

It wasn’t just desire. It was something deeper, a recognition. A pull of two souls that had somehow found their way to each other after lifetimes apart. He had been helpless against it, as had she. And now, they were both ensnared in a dangerous web.

Niall’s gaze shifted to the door. He couldn’t leave things as they were. He had to find Tamara and apologize, though words felt woefully inadequate. He hadn’t been a gentleman in any sense of the word. Worse still, he’d hidden from her—not out of cowardice, but because he’d realized too late the danger he’d placed her in.

Devina.

Her name was a curse in his mind. The demon had warned him, time and again, of the consequences if he ever lay with another woman. She would destroy anyone who dared to touch his heart. He’d thought himself immune, his heart encased in ice too thick for anyone to penetrate. But Tamara had melted it with a single glance, and now her life was in peril if Devina discovered the truth.

He stood, his resolve hardening. At the foot of the bed, a shirt lay folded neatly beside a pair of boots. He picked it up—soft and warm, unlike the rough tunics of his past. Everything fit him perfectly, as if prepared with care. A pang of guilt twisted in his chest. Tamara had thought of everything, even when he’d refused her kindness.

Despite her fiery temper, she was kind, caring and, by the way she’d continued to try to help him, patient. She’d cried when he refused to reveal the terms of his enchantment, her tears undoing him in ways he couldn’t explain. And the way she’d looked at him … the heat in her gaze had stirred a fire in him that had long been extinguished. When he’d held her, he’d felt the warmth of her body pressed against his, all his carefully guarded control had shattered.

With the boots on, he could delay no longer. He stepped out of the room, his chest tightening at the sight before him.

Tamara sat curled in a large chair, her legs pulled to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. She’d tugged the oversized white item she wore over her legs, but it did little to hide the rose-colored undergarments beneath. She looked fragile, and yet there was a stubborn defiance in the way she glared at him, her dark eyes flashing with anger.

The sight of her, so alluring and fierce, made his breath catch. He took a step closer, then hesitated as her frown deepened.

“I apologize,” he began, his voice low and rough.

“Don’t.” She raised a hand, her palm facing him. “Don’t you dare apologize for what happened between us. If you’re going to apologize, do it for what you did afterward.”

Her words were a challenge, her gaze daring him to argue. She wasn’t going to make this easy.

“I apologize for leaving the bed so abruptly,” he said after a moment. “It was not a gentlemanly thing to do.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And?”

His brows furrowed. What else was she expecting? He tried again. “I should not have been ungrateful for the clothing.”

Tamara’s gaze flicked over him, taking in his jeans and shirt as if noticing them for the first time. Heat rose to his face as her eyes lingered, the weight of her scrutiny igniting something deep within him. With a delicate shrug, she sniffed and looked back up. “Everything fits.”

“Aye, it does.”

Again, she rested her cheek on her knees, her lashes lowering to hide her expression. “I’m not going to ask about your enchantment. I don’t have the energy to argue with you anymore.”

Her quiet resignation pierced him. Guilt twisted like a knife in his chest, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. If only he could tell her the truth—the real reason why he could never be free.

Devina’s hold was an unbreakable chain, the enchantment’s terms cruel and unyielding. To break it would demand a sacrifice so great, he couldn’t bear to ask it of anyone, least of all Tamara.

The sudden pull toward the alter-world jolted him, his body tensing instinctively. He turned to her, his heart heavy. “I must go.”

Her eyes widened, wariness shadowing her face. “Will you return?”

The question was simple, but the vulnerability in her voice struck him like a blow. He didn’t want to feel anything for her, but the urge to go to her, to pull her into his arms and promise her the world, was overwhelming.

“Aye,” he said softly. “I will return. Padriag must be freed.”

For a moment, their eyes met, and he almost fought the pull, almost stayed. But the image of Atlandia burned in his mind, a cruel reminder of his reality.

With a heavy heart, Niall surrendered to the magic and disappeared.