What she met was the gaze of two glittering, silver eyes.
* * *
Marc stared as if she was a dream.
Dio. He’d found her. He’d finally found his sprite. The very first place Matteo had told him about and here she was.
Smiling and laughing. The life of the party.
A shaft of pain lanced inside him. Clearly, she hadn’t been suffering from their parting like he had. In fact, it appeared she’d already forgotten him. A sick feeling slid down his throat. What if his brother was wrong, all wrong about her feelings? What if he were about to make himself a fool once more in front of a woman?
So be it.
He had to know. Had to face her and find out if he had a hope of winning her back. A hope of living the life he’d been dreaming of these last couple of weeks. A life of laughter and love. A life overflowing with acceptance and warmth. A life with…
“Darcy,” he breathed.
She turned and looked right at him. As if she’d heard her name on his lips even though the crowded bar was filled with noisy chatter. Her gaze met his from across the distance between where he stood at the door and she sat at the bar.
She stiffened and her eyes widened.
Then, she turned from him with a jerk and slipped through the crowd at a rapid clip.
“No,” he cried. The people around him went silent.
“No,” he said once more as he pushed his way through the throng, following her fast-disappearing form. An older man, vaguely recognizable, stepped in front of him, but one fierce glare from Marc had him stumbling aside.
He’d found her, finally found her. Damned if anyone or anything was going to stand in the way of getting to her and telling her. Telling her, he loved her.
He gained on her, saw her sneak through the back door. In two paces, he was out the door himself into a dark, dank alley behind the long row of shops and stores. Her slight figure dashed across the cobblestone lane at a breakneck pace, yet his long legs would easily close the distance in seconds. He tensed, ready to run.
Suddenly, it happened.
A man stepped in front of her, grabbing her and yanking her towards the alley entrance where a van stood waiting.
What the hell?
Darcy froze at first, then started to hit and kick. A sharp, intense pride swept through him at her pluck and her spirit. “There’s my girl,” he muttered under his breath, as he ran down the street toward the struggling couple.
He was upon them in seconds.
Wrenching her away from the stranger, he pushed her behind him, facing the danger.
The guy tried to take off, but Marc grabbed him by his arm, stopping him. “What is going on here?”
The stranger said nothing, wild eyes wide with fright at being held by a determined, angry man. His dark, greasy hair stood in spikes on his head, while his beer belly heaved in distress.
“Darcy?” Marc turned to stare at her.
Before him stood the waif once more. The fear flooding in her gaze, the pale skin of her face, the twisting hands.
This man. This was the man who she feared. He’d bet his life on it.
“Who is he?” he snarled.
“He…h-h-he…” His sprite stopped, gathering her courage. “He’s the only son of the foster family I was put with as a kid.”
“Si?” Marc grabbed the guy by his ragged collar and lifted him off his feet. A triumphant rush of power pulsed through him when the man gasped for breath. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” she whispered. “I ran away before he could…”
Her insinuation was enough. More than enough to justify what he’d wanted to do since he saw this man grab her. His fist plowed into the sweaty face before him and the man went down cold.
Marc glared at the unconscious man, rubbing his knuckles. A primal rage pumped in his blood. His woman. No one else’s. His woman would never be touched by another man. “How old were you?” he rasped.
A short, sharp pause. “It d-d-doesn’t matter.”
He swung around, anger pulsing inside, needing an outlet. “It sure as hell does.”
Her eyes widened at the expression on his face.
“Tell me.”
“I never talk about it.” She slumped on the brick wall as if every bit of her energy was gone.
“You must.” He paced over to her and leaned down, gazing into night-blue eyes filled with turbulent fear. “You must get it out so the memory can be put to rest.”
She stared at him, searching for something. Maybe she found it because she finally spoke. “I got placed with them when I was twelve.” Her lips twisted in a grimace before she continued. “He was the only kid they had. They wanted a g-girl.”
“Go on.” He leaned farther in, trying to wrap her in his presence, in the safety he provided.