Her best chance was to try to escape.
His gurgling laugh made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Her heart pounded harder, her steps seeming impossibly slow even with her superhuman speed.
She’d made it within reach of the slit in the tent when arms of steel banded around her waist and tossed her. Landing hard on her back, the wind forced from her lungs, she blinked up at the peak of the tent. Amon’s face came into view above her.
A stream of red stained the shirt beneath his princely coat. Her dagger was clutched in his hand, an exact replica of the one Blaze had given her. Blood dripped from its tip and onto her neck, her face. She squeezed her lips shut, remembering his promise, but his smile was filled with all the sick, twisted glee of a hunter whose prey was caught in a trap.
No! she screamed internally. Her limbs flailed until the prince straddled her waist, pinning her arms painfully beneath his knees.
He bent over her with the dagger still dripping blood onto her lips.“I love how you fight me, flower, but our game is at an end…for now.”
His fist was a blur before pain erupted in her temple and the world went black.
When Emma came to, her body was hot. Parts of her ached in ways that made her pant with desire.
“Amon,” she gasped.
A dark chuckle sounded behind her, chafing against her heavy, needy breasts and sending tingles between her thighs.
“Amon,” she said again on a moan. Why was she so warm?
“Yes, flower?”
Her mouth was dry, a sweetness on her tongue that she craved more of. Every cell in her body was alight with pleasure. She strained against her bonds, loving the delicious rub of leather against her skin. Looking down, she noted that she wore only her underwear. Still, it felt like far too much fabric.
“Take these off,”she begged.“Where are you? Let me see you.”
She wanted her prince. Wanted to feel his touch. Wanted him to soothe away the unbearable aches.
His laugh came again, raising goose bumps along her arms and legs.
Finally her shirtless god came into view. Her mouth watered at the sight of his golden skin. She wanted to lick every inch. His head cocked to the side, taking her in from head to toe with his eyes that sparkled like beautiful rubies.
Smiling, he stopped in front of her. His bare thumb rubbed over her bottom lip, and she stifled a groan of pleasure.
He licked his own lips hungrily, sending a thrill through her body. “I admit I love it when you’re all teeth and claws. A rare, poisonous flower planted in the garden, its illusion of innocence set to draw me in. Then once you get close, it’s almost too late to avoid the strike. Your thorns are your best attribute, flower. But under the right circumstances you bloom into something even more beautiful.Your center is filled with the sweetest nectar, and I must confess I am dying for a taste.”
His last words were a breath against her lips, and Emma struggled to get closer. To press her body against his.
“Touch me,” she begged.
He chuckled.“Will you hurt me if I do, flower?”
She frowned in confusion, even as a niggling sensation began in the back of her mind—a warning of some sort that she couldn’t reach.
She didn’t want to.
“Why would I hurt you?” She looked around as though there were others that might hurt her prince. Her god. She’d kill them before they could even try.
“That’s right,” he said, tentatively stroking her arm.
Why was she bound?
Danger. Kill him.
She shook her head to clear the unwanted voice. No, I need him. He’s mine.
His caress continued to her chest, running over the swell of her breast.
Fire licked through her: hatred. The flames slid through her veins like a serpent. Her memories flicked back into place all at once and the prince halted, his hand cupping her.
He’d fed her his blood after knocking her out.
He’d stripped her.
A slow smile curved her lips as their eyes met.“You’re going to die.”
The low, lethal quality of her voice was foreign to her own ears, but immediately she felt the flood of Amon’s powers rush through her.
In the past his sexual energy had been too much for her to take. But now with the powers of two other princes occupying her body, she drank it down greedily, eager for his death.
He stumbled back, face contorting into anger. Behind him on a desk lay the dagger she’d stabbed him with. The blade was clean now. He grabbed it and rushed to her while she fought against her bonds.
The leather groaned, the stitches snapping one by one. She was almost free. Her ankles were bound still, but she just needed her hands. The prince had enough skin on display that she’d be able to easily find some part of him to feed from.
More, her beast chanted.
The blade swiped for her throat. Her chest. She squeezed herself back as far as her restraints would allow. The bedframe creaked, and the wood protested her strength, especially with the Prince of Lust coursing through her veins.
Wildly the prince swung the dagger. When he aimed for her face, she turned her head to avoid losing an eye. Sharp bursts of pain bloomed on her arm, her cheek, her stomach. Emma gritted her teeth and at last yanked her hands free, the leather snapping audibly.
A screech filled the tent, and other Shediem filed in. Her ankles were still bound but she sank down, ignoring the hot crimson from her wounds smearing her thighs.
The first one that dared get close was a bulbous-headed Shax. Her hands wrapped around its thick neck and she forced it to the floor. Hovering over it, she drew the energy from its body so fast it became dust in her hands in a blink.
Yes, the beast inside her crooned. More. Kill. You are the goddess of Death.
Emma let loose a war cry, swinging her arms for each Shediem that got close. From behind the throng of soldiers, Amon watched her with fire in his eerie eyes.
“Fight me yourself, you coward,” she bellowed, draining his minions left and right. Occasionally their blades cut flesh but with their energy filling her, her wounds knitted back together just as quickly.
Her ankles sprung free and she willed the leather to become sand instead. She sprinted, sucking away the life-force of each demonic creature that got within her range.
Until she lunged for the prince.
He vanished, and her head hit the tent wall, snapping the fabric taut. The impact jostled her.
A sharp pain lanced down her back, wrenching a scream from her. She’d felt this pain before and she knew it well; the crack that followed confirmed that the prince had a whip.
Something guttural rumbled in her throat before she spun toward him.
“I’m afraid I’m not as easy to defeat as my brothers, little flower.” His tone was colder than usual, all light of excitement extinguished.“Shall I tell you how I forced my seed inside that filthy Giborim’s womb?”
Emma froze, lips curled back, exposing her teeth.
“Do you want to hear how she cried silently, not uttering a sound when I raped her over and over for weeks while you played the hero with her brother?”
Her scream of fury came from somewhere so deep in her soul that she thought she felt the ground quake. Lunging for him again, she dodged the whip that sliced through the air. It caught her hip and tore her flesh but she didn’t pause. Didn’t stop. With a thought she changed her undergarments, letting the dark, thick material wrap over her entire body. She didn’t have to look down to know she was now wearing a wicked-looking jumpsuit.
Again and again Amon cracked the whip, though her new attire protected her from the worst of it. She’d tear him apart over and over until she was sated. Until she’d gotten justice for every woman he’d ever hurt.
The monster would burn in the wrath of her vengeance.
She knocked him back and jumped on top of him, pinning him the same way he’d done to her while she drove her fists into his face, ignoring the cru
nch of bones and spurts of blood. His screams were drowned out by her own anguished cries.
Her fists turned to claws and she tore at his skin, determined to pull him apart.
Distantly, she knew this was madness. That she was as much a monster as he, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She’d be the avenging angel, even if her wings were blacker than her soul.
The tent burst open and at least a dozen Spellcasters rushed in. Their magic threw her backward, her spine cracking when it hit something hard. Air wouldn’t come to her lungs and she gasped like a fish out of water.
The blinding light wrapped around her, its icy touch at war with her fire. She was held immovable. Utterly still, with air still evading her.
Blackness edged her vision, and she knew she’d die.
She could barely make out the prince getting to his feet. His body was battered, offering a tiny spark of satisfaction before the darkness swallowed her whole.
36
Blaze
E very hour that passed was like a knife carving another slice into his heart. When they entered Chinese airspace, they had to provide security clearances, because at least part
of China was somehow still operational. It wasted time, circling above while their fuel dwindled and the right people verified the codes that gave them clearance everywhere in the world.
When at last the crackly voice had granted them access, Blaze flew the plane harder than was probably good for its engine, but desperation clawed through him. His uncle’s words had haunted him for the entire journey.
What would he find when they got to Emma? Would she be able to kill Amon without losing herself?
How much more could she take?
It went against his protective nature to ask her to save them all.To ask her to risk herself for them. But the fate of humankind was on the line. A supernatural war would begin at any moment. And when it did, every single Shediem in existence would gun for her.
They didn’t have to worry about where the soldiers needed to be. It was clear that the war would come to them, wherever Emma was. She was the ultimate threat.
The only problem was she was becoming an increasing threat to Giborim and humans too. With each prince she absorbed, the more she became like them…
He shook his head, forcing away any further thought on the subject before he began the descent.
When they landed, Blaze barked out his commands and they disembarked the aircraft with their weapons and supply packs.
It was just as cold as it had been back in Seattle, with a wicked wind whipping across the abandoned airfield. Unlike in Kansas and Brazil, cities loomed in the distance in every direction, the skyscrapers reaching for the grey sky like iron fingers.
Wordlessly they set out. The distance they’d need to cross was far greater than in the other two locations because the damaged zone was so much smaller—meaning they’d had to land farther to avoid still-standing cities.Yet the closer they got to the nearest city, the more the silence around them became deafening.
He could sense the humans, though they hid from view. Some—most likely the homeless—congregated around metal barrels where fire crackled, offering a sliver of warmth against the harsh cold.
Blaze ignored them and the gazes that followed as they passed. A few faces peered through foggy windows, but no one interfered. For that he was grateful. He couldn’t do anything for them right now. Until he rescued Emma, she was his only priority, selfish as it was.
Something mixed with the light shuffle of their footsteps. Gently, a song reached his ears at the edge of the city. Its melodic sound carried on in the wind, as though Mother Nature herself sang to the people. He knew immediately what it was.
“Shax ahead,” he whispered to his companions. A few murmured their confirmation.
From the buildings, a steady stream of enthralled humans filed out, marching toward the source of the sound.
Blaze heaved a sigh. This, he couldn’t let go. Stopping along a sleek brick building that might have been a coffee shop at one time, he pressed his back against it.
Slowly, he peered around the side, and spotted the Shax whose wide, ugly mouth opened to spill the crescendo of his woeful tune. Drudes, djinn, and a Zemnion stood watch, roughly keeping the mindless humans in line while they marched out of the city in rows of three.
Blaze cursed under his breath. There were at least two dozen Shediem they’d have to slay. But with ten Giborim and three Spellcasters, it would be a piece of cake. The thing that bothered him was the humans’ proximity.
They’d get hurt. Many would die.
But weighing the risks, he knew it’d be worth it. They didn’t have a choice. Tens of thousands of humans were being led to their deaths and they didn’t even know it.
There’d likely be more Shax every mile or so to keep the humans under their spell.
He whispered his plan to the rest, and a round of nods passed through them.
“Ready?” he asked. Not waiting for their response, he lunged around the corner and sprinted headlong toward the creatures. The weight of his blades was familiar. They cut through the air in their own sweet melody before severing flesh and bone.
The Shax was first down. His sword met the heavy clang of another blade, this one from a Drude. A leathery smile twisted the vile creature’s lips as they traded blows in a rapid flurry. Their predictive nature made it hard to best them in combat, but Blaze had an ace up his sleeve. Clearing his mind the way his father taught him, he let his body move fluidly, the ancient swords moving him of their own accord.
The Drude’s eyes widened before its own head was lobbed from its body, rolling into the panicked crowd of humans backing away. The pavement was wet with both red and black blood, proving his theory correct: humans had died.
His eye caught on movement and he spied the Zemnion—a creature that looked like a rhino and a lion had a baby, though it ran on its thick, furry back legs, thin tail slashing back and forth, projecting its fear. It sprinted away from them, pushing the much smaller humans out of its way in its race to warn the Shediem ahead.
Blaze shot after it, his speed far surpassing the large, thundering creature’s. Leaping into the air, he came down on top of it, his blades glancing off its stony skin.
They both tumbled to the ground, and its feline eyes snapped to him before it hissed. A large ivory horn adorned its snout. Blaze didn’t move when it barreled toward him, the horn poised to impale him through the chest.
Once the creature was close enough, he jerked a blade through the softer part of its bottom jaw. The sword pierced its skull, erupting with a crack on the other side.
The scent of rot filled his nostrils, and black, oily blood sprayed his face and chest. He kept his mouth clamped shut to avoid ingesting it, and withdrew the blade from the now-dead Shediem with a noise of disgust.
Others jogged over to him, offering to help him to his feet. In the distance, he saw Dominic and Taryn calming the humans and instructing them inside their houses or as far from the city as possible.
Ignoring the proffered hands, Blaze climbed to his feet and accepted a cloth from Zachary to wipe the Shediem gore from his face. “We can’t spend too much time here. We’re losing the light already.”
The sky was darkening. Emma had been on her own for far too long.
To a group of shaking, huddled humans he said in Mandarin, “Take care of your fellow man. Protect each other and stay away from here as far as possible.”
They nodded and wisely got to their feet, then ran back toward the city.
When Dominic and Taryn caught up with the group, they carried on. But they didn’t encounter any more Shediem, leading Blaze to believe the Shediem knew they were coming.
The sun had begun its descent on the horizon when they reached the outskirts of Amon’s camp. Soon they’d be thrown into darkness, and though Blaze and his fellow Giborim could see just fine in the dark, the Spellcasters could not. And, as much as he wanted to charge in like a bull in a
china shop, he forced himself to wait. To watch.
The patrols were random—a smart move on their part. And Amon’s hiding place was likely at the center, away from direct view, which would make locating it that much more difficult.
“On the next rotation we’ll strike. Stealth is key.” Blaze’s eyes flicked to Sergei, Taryn, and her brother.“I need you to make us all look like Shediem. Physical changes and not just illusions, because we’ll all have to go in at different locations.”
Taryn made a choked noise and Sergei’s eyes grew wide.
“Sergei, I know you helped doctor Emma’s mother for close to two decades. I’m sure this will be easy for you.”
His shoulders slumped.“I used potions to do most of it.And I don’t have any with me. Besides, changing red hair to blond isn’t the same as changing a humanoid to a Shediem.”
“You still know how to alter one’s appearance. Whatever you can do will help.”
Taryn looked like she might protest, but clamped her mouth shut instead. Smart girl.
“You better not make me a Shax,” Dominic muttered, stepping forward to volunteer first.
Taryn’s lips split in a sly grin. “Oh come on, Russian brute, you’d look great as a Shax.”
It was eerie how quickly and accurately the Spellcaster altered his friend, shrinking him from six foot one to three feet tall. It took everything in Blaze not to laugh while Dominic gave a gruff sigh of resignation.
“Don’t speak or make any sounds. Your voice will be a dead giveaway,” Taryn added.
“Not to mention the Shediem can sense our presence,” Dominic retorted.
“I’ve done my best to mute everyone’s energy,” Taryn said in a tone that might have seemed soft on the surface, but a cord of steel ran through it. The Giborim met her gaze, and they held each other in a stare-off that radiated tension.
Blaze cleared his throat, trying to diffuse the situation.“That’s great, Taryn, thanks. Derrick, Sergei, get started.”
Sergei stepped in front of him, his palms glowing with buttery yellow light. “This might burn a little,” he said before a thousand pinpricks touched Blaze’s skin. It was both itchy and uncomfortable, but he fought the urge to scratch while his bones rearranged. His skin pulled tighter, his muscles burning.
The Throne of Broken Bones (Weapon of Fire and Ash Book 3) Page 30
