Chapter 3

Tossing the pillow across the room, Darien muttered every curse word he could remember until he ran out of breath. If he didn’t start sleeping more, he was going to end up with grey hair fifty or sixty years before he should.

Flipping onto his back, he glared at the ceiling in the dark. How long had he been surviving on a few hours of sleep each night? He’d lost track.

For the first few years after Remi’s arrival, he’d gone straight to bed when Serenity After Dark closed each night and stayed there until late afternoon. Doyle thought it was best if he let Remi learn the ropes and adjust to her new life without Darien doing everything for her. He’d agreed with the old demon even though it pained him, mentally more than physically, if she was stressed or upset.

That hadn’t changed. Right now, she was freaked out over the audit, and here he was, lying awake after only two hours of sleep. Even after working out until his muscles screamed just to fall asleep in the first place.

When he’d started having trouble the first year keeping his distance, he tried drowning his natural instincts with various forms of alcohol. His werewolf metabolism made getting drunk hard work, not to mention expensive. Having to drink himself sober two or three times a night just to get some rest hadn’t been one of his wisest plans. But, he’d felt so lethargic the next day that he’d been able to curb any desires.

Doyle had finally found a potion that would help with this, and for the most part, it worked. Darien still had to fight the need to be with Remi, but with proper rest, he’d been successful.

It was when Doyle passed away, and Darien had lost his main outlet for rants, control, and someone to talk some logic into animalistic instincts that made no sense at all, that he’d had to turn to others for help. Pascal and Attis had jumped on board and were all for being on team Remi as a defense to keep Darien under control. It was lucky for him that they were two very old vampires and had the strength to rein him in when his emotions got out of hand.

Darien had actually been naïve enough to think it was going to work, and mostly it did until Remi hooked up with that arrogant pig Randell. Even the vampires had trouble keeping Darien from ripping his throat out with his teeth. This was when the rest of the staff, and especially Nadine, were brought into the loop. None of them liked the cop, but everyone agreed that if Remi was happy, they weren’t going to do anything to ruin it for her.

Rubbing a hand over his chest, Darien could still feel the pressure of how much it pained him to watch her with that man. Sure, she’d had a quick fling here and there, and he’d managed to keep it together because he wanted her to grow and experience life. That and they were always brief. As long as he didn’t think about what happened when they were out of sight, he managed to keep things under control with minimal damage to walls, doors, and various other inanimate objects.

When Randell broke her heart, Darien could feel it to the bottom of his soul. He ached for her; his wolf mourned for the pain she was in. Nadine had to increase the dose of her herbal concoction at that point, leaving him so doped up that the sky could fall, and he’d have just let it happen with a stupid grin on his face.

As the months went by, the mixture became less effective, and he’d had to resort to working out, vigorously each night before trying to sleep. Were metabolism was a bitch to maintain, but if he burned enough energy, his wolf was too weak to drive him mad for being denied what fate had deemed was his. The end result was that his body had never been in better shape. Unfortunately, his mental state wasn’t fairing nearly as well.

Six months ago, the concoction began failing completely. He had to double, even triple up during the week leading to the full moon, and even then, it was touch and go if it worked at all. Of course, kissing her the first time had been by far the stupidest thing he could have ever done. Now his wolf had her taste and tore at him relentlessly to claim her.

If she’d pushed him away and ripped into him when it had happened, he may have been able to control his actions, but she hadn’t. To make it worse, she responded in a way that made his animal content but then would spout off about her rule of not mixing business with pleasure. That was complete bollocks as far as he was concerned. Couples and spouses ran businesses together all the time. She had this fear of things going bad, them breaking up, and Serenity suffering because of it.

Did she care if the rest of the staff messed around with one another every once and a while? No. They did too, always around the full moon, and, of course, where was he when this was affecting the others? Locked in a damned cage going through his version of hell. It was worse for him when he was in the moon’s thrall now because the beast part of him knew damn well that his mate was on the other side of the bars and steel, and it still couldn’t get to her.

For the past five months, he’d had to contend with all of that, plus have the staff riding him non-stop to clue her in. They swore that if she knew that she was his mate, she wouldn’t be worried about them breaking up because that didn’t happen in the para world. His argument was a sound one: she’d never accept that once mated, he was going to turn into a dominating, possessive man that impinged on her freedom. He knew he would. He also knew that she wouldn’t just accept that and smile prettily.

Groaning, he closed his eyes. His emotions were all over the place again. Still taking deep breaths, he focused on trying to settle down. Snorting, he opened his eyes and studied the empty space above him. It didn’t matter what he was feeling, all it took was one touch from Remi, and he was a mellow puppy, at least until his hormones kicked in.

Turning, he squinted at the clock. He should get up; the night staff would be upstairs getting ready. If he could just get through tonight without seeing her, it would be an accomplishment. He’d meant to be in bed before she came down to open for breakfast, but his feet refused to leave, and then he’d stayed to put the order away, argue with the blood supplier, go to the staff meeting, and of course spend some quiet time with her. He was his own worst enemy.

His phone buzzed across the table. Sighing, he picked it up and checked to see who it was. Baker had texted him. Sitting up, he opened the message, and his blood pressure rose before he had his feet on the floor. Detective Randell Peterson was upstairs, and Baker didn’t know why, but Remi was getting upset.

“Fuck.” Getting up, he tossed the phone on the bed and went over to his dresser to get some jeans. “Why can’t that asshole take a fucking hint and just leave her the hell alone?” He growled and jerked the material up his legs. “Should have ripped out his throat a few years ago.” Snarling at the shirt as he turned it around to find the front, he quickly pulled it over his head.

Grabbing the phone, he stomped over and put on his shoes, and then gripped the doorknob. Before he turned it, he straightened and took a deep breath. “Think of Remi.” He whispered, trying to lock down his temper. “Just keep it together for her.” Exhaling loudly, he opened the door.