by Coralee June
I was slower, but I managed to send a net flying, knocking a gun out of a guard’s hands. With another, I shot a string out like a slingshot, knocking it away from his hold. To a third one, I managed to wrap his chest in a spool of strings, trapping the gun so the muzzle was jammed beneath his jaw. One pull of the trigger, and a bullet would be kissing his brain.
But Tomb was still getting littered with more gunfire, and a bullet managed to graze off him and hit me, this time into my left thigh. I fell to the floor, a gasp of pain tearing past my lips as more blood pumped out of me.
Guards closed in around us. My pulse pounded in my ears as a furious scream wrenched from my throat. I sent a stream of webs in front of us, trying to catch anyone I could, but I was sloppy. Slow. The guards managed to jump out of the way. There were just too many of them. My mates may be indestructible, but I hadn’t tested if I was. And right now, I was losing way too much blood and had expended too much power.
“Enough!” A familiar, dominant voice broke through the mayhem, making everyone pause.
Risk strolled through in his chariot of Armani, sending guns flying out of the guard’s hands with effortless blasts of hellfire.
Tomb and Crow went rigid when he broke through the line of birds and stopped in front of us to look down his nose at me. “I leave you alone for one hour, and look at the scene you caused, little pet,” he said through clenched teeth. I bet he was furious with me for compromising his cushy business opportunity.
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.
His dark eyes flickered with fire as he looked down, catching sight of the drops of red that surrounded me. “I do hope that’s not your blood littering the floor. I take care of my possessions, and I need you in pristine condition for what I have planned,” he said, his tone casual but his expression hard.
I struggled to my feet, holding Tomb’s bulky body as I stood, keeping all my weight on my right foot. I refused to cower in Risk’s presence or show him how much he’d hurt me.
“I don’t belong to you,” I told him, looking him straight in the eye.
Risk looked over his shoulder at the guards and chuckled, like my act of defiance amused him. “Actually, according to the contract I just signed with Spector, you do. So I suggest you rein in your little spider webs and follow me to our room. We need to discuss your disobedience.”
My jaw clenched as a new rush of hate filled me.
When I heard Crow hiss, my eyes clashed with his. He was hurt, bullets pushing out of his body and falling to the floor as his body healed. But his pallor was gray, and he was swaying on his feet. He was too weak from his earlier torture and controlling his birds. He needed to rest, and I was certain that Tomb was in the same condition, despite his stony determination to protect me.
“Fine, but my mates come with me,” I bartered, though I didn’t really have any authority to make demands.
Risk simply sighed. “If they must,” he huffed, like I was just a huge inconvenience.
He turned on his heels and started to stride away, but I looked around with residual fury at Spector, and it was obvious by the expressions on the guards’ faces that they wanted to collect on the debt of Oz’s life. They didn’t seem too happy with the way Risk stepped in and took me from them.
When Risk noticed I wasn’t following, he turned around, his eyes taking in the hostile stances of the guards. “If you have a problem, I suggest you speak with Mr. Belvini,” he said. “The Black Widow is mine to do with as I wish, and I am the only one allowed to punish my pets.” He paused for a moment while scanning the room again, his eyes landing on where my fingers were pressing into the wound on my shoulder. After staring down the men wielding guns, he spoke again.
“Who shot her?” he asked.
The room went completely silent; the only sound you could hear was my labored breathing.
“Who shot what’s mine?” he asked again while circling the room. He stopped at a trembling guard with a rifle hanging loosely at his side. “Was it you?”
“N-no, sir,” the man stammered in response.
He leaned forward and stared the man down, as if daring the man to lie to him. Neither of them moved for a moment. The silent standoff was filled with toxic tension, and I waited with bated breath to see what the crazy demon would do.
Risk rolled his eyes, then turned his attention to the next gun-wielding gun.
“Was it you?”
This guard didn’t seem as terrified. His spine straightened as he looked ahead, fixing his lips in a firm line before responding. “I was just doing my job, sir.”
Risk grinned maniacally. “Just doing your job?”
“Yes, sir,” the man replied stiffly.
Risk lifted his hand up and capriciously removed a gold ring from his finger and placed it in his pocket. He then stared at his fist for a moment, as if debating what to do with it. No one said a single word. No one moved an inch.
The protectiveness was catching me off guard. Was he asking because he actually cared about me? Or was he just possessive? I got the impression that he would have easily been just as wrathful over a cracked teacup.
Within an instant, Risk shot his fist out and lodged it in the chest of the guard that shot me. His knuckles dug past the chest bone, deeper and deeper until his hand was able to wrap around the guard’s pounding heart. Blood poured from the wound, creating a slick mess on the floor as Risk laughed. “I’m just doing my job,” he said in a deadly calm voice. Then, in one swoop, he ripped the organ from his chest and tossed it on the floor.
The man went wide-eyed and groaned as he dropped to the floor.
Risk wiped the blood from his hands on another guard’s jacket before speaking again. “If anyone touches her again, I will be inclined to burn your spinal cord with hellfire,” he said nonchalantly. “Come along, pet,” he said, addressing me.
My pride wanted me to plant my feet and not move a muscle. But my mates and I were hurt, and I had no doubt that as soon as he left the room, Spector guards would be all over us.
Limping forward, I gritted my teeth as I followed in his wake. Before I could even take three full steps, Tomb was there, his hard, strong body sweeping me up into his arms. The movement jostled the wound in both my leg and my shoulder, making me grimace.
“I got you.”
I rested my head against his obsidian chest, and as soon as I made contact, his body rippled and turned back to skin. I sighed at the warmth and softness of his flesh. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my words meant for both of them.
Tomb’s finger tipped up my chin. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again, Wid.”
“But he was torturing you. Both of you,” I argued, turning my head to look over at Crow where he walked beside us. “All because I mated you. Because I pissed him off in the training room.”
“You don’t get to feel guilty for something that was out of your control,” Tomb said, his tone holding no room for argument.
“Tomb—”
“No, Little Spider,” Crow said, cutting me off. “He’s right. And you won’t win this one. We outnumber you,” he teased.
A shaky smile came over my lips as I rested back against Tomb. I could’ve fallen asleep from the swaying of his movements as he walked, but I was all too aware that we were being led into the lion’s den.
Chapter 21
Risk led us to another part of Spector I’d never seen before. Rows of apartments lined the halls where, apparently, the guards lived. I felt eyes on us as we traveled, and when we stopped in front of a door at the end of the long hallway, Risk opened it with a carefree whistle and then motioned for us to go inside.
It was a small apartment, similar to my dorm room at Thibault. There was a small kitchenette in the corner, a sitting area, and a large king-sized bed in the very middle. I wasn’t impressed with the nice living quarters. Crow once said that all of Spector was a cage, and now more than ever, I believed him.
The moment the door shut behind us, Ris
k ripped me from Tomb’s strong hold and crushed me to his own chest. “You stupid woman, what the fuck were you thinking?” he scolded while carrying me to a nearby couch. The emotional whiplash was almost as bad as the jerking pain my body felt with every jostle.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I hissed in response as Crow and Tomb stalked after him, their muscles rippling with the urge to fight.
“Who the fuck are you?” Tomb growled, clenching his fists and looking like he was about to go full statue again.
Risk ignored both of us though and placed me on the couch, staring me down with obvious displeasure. “Take your clothes off, Motley. I need to look at your wounds.”
“Like hell you are,” Crow replied, though his voice was worn and ragged with exhaustion.
Risk rolled his eyes and started removing his tie. Once it was discarded on the floor, he unbuttoned his collar and flashed the scarlet mark of my shame for my mates to see. The pain in my shoulder and leg were forgotten. I was too busy writhing in the excruciating reality that I’d been used by this demon and cheapened the mating mark by bestowing one on him.
Crow’s and Tomb’s eyes widened, and they exchanged a look. My cheeks burned in shame.
“Why does he have a mark, Motley?” Tomb asked patiently. His faith in me made the pain even worse. Even though the answer was obvious, he wanted to hear it from my lips. He was giving me the benefit of the doubt even though I didn’t deserve it.
“My spider made him her mate,” I choked out, like the words had turned to burning cinders in my throat. “He tricked me. I thought he wanted me too, but he just wanted immortality so he could work with Spector,” I replied while slumping my shoulders. Saying the reality of what Risk had done made me sick to my stomach. I was so tired of being used and so overwhelmed by his motivations. I felt jaded in the worst possible way.
“He did what?” Tomb asked before slapping down a rock hard hand on Risk’s shoulder. Ever the careless demon, Risk simply rolled his eyes at the threat and spun around to face my gargoyle mate. Tomb was vibrating with rage. His protectiveness made every muscle in his body flex in anticipation.
If I weren’t bleeding out and in burning pain, I would’ve wanted to jump his bones.
“You going to punch me? Let’s get this territorial shit show over with so I can help our mate,” Risk huffed out while unclasping the buttons on each wrist of his dress shirt and rolling them up.
Our mate? Our mate? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He couldn’t just play both sides of the relic coin whenever it suited him.
Tomb didn’t respond with a witty retort, nor did he wait for Risk to finish undressing. He reared his onyx fist back and landed a harsh punch on the traitor’s jaw. Risk’s head whipped backwards at the sheer force of Tomb’s hit, and his eyes widened at the shock of it.
Crow sighed, like he was too exhausted to actually deal with this, but he walked up to Tomb’s side and held his fists up, prepared to join in and support his friend anyway.
Risk rubbed his jaw, and I probably enjoyed the blooming bruise on his face a little more than I should’ve. “Happy now?” he asked boredly. “Got that out of your system?”
“Not until you’re dead, motherfucker,” Tomb growled.
“Good thing I can’t die then, hmm?” Risk replied, making a fresh wave of pain radiate across my chest.
Tomb was not amused by Risk’s careless attitude. My gargoyle sent another fist flying, this time with one made of solid stone, hitting Risk directly in the gut. The blow had him bent over with a wheeze, but when he straightened back up, Risk was smirking. “Fuck, you can pack a punch, gargoyle. I’ll give you one more because I’m feeling generous.”
The risk demon’s eyes glittered with excitement. He looked like he was enjoying this far too much, but Tomb was panting, his body blinking back and forth from black stone to sweat-coated skin. Crow’s shoulders were steaming with sputters of shadows, tired feathers drifting onto the floor. They were too worn out for this shit, and I hadn’t attacked a regiment of Spector guards just to let one fake mate taunt them into exhausting themselves even more.
“Stop. Don’t antagonize them,” I said, forcing myself to sit up with a grimace. “What do you want, Risk? You used me. You got to become indestructible like you wanted. Can’t we just call this what it is and be done?” I asked as fresh tears filled my eyes.
It was all too much. Watching my mates being tortured. The deception. Spector’s plans. I just wanted to rest and hold my mates—my real mates.
Risk looked over at me, his black brows arching up. “For hell’s sake, are you crying?” he asked, looking surprised. “Who the fuck made you cry?”
I glared at him. “Don’t mock me,” I croaked.
“Tell me who made you cry and I’ll destroy him. No one fucks with what’s mine,” Risk barked out with anger.
“She’s not yours,” Tomb growled quietly.
I shook my head, looking at Risk incredulously. “You made me cry, you asshole!” I screeched. “You tricked me into mating you so you could be in business with Collector,” I spat.
“Who the fuck is Collector?” Crow asked.
“No idea,” Tomb murmured, eyes flicking between Risk and me.
I stared Risk down. “You took something that was special to me—to my spider—and tainted it. I’m not disillusioned enough to think that we had some bullshit love at first sight moment. But I did think we were compatible. Mating is special, or at least it should be. My spider picked you, and you stomped all over her.”
Risk sighed and tugged at the collar of his dress shirt. I was trying really hard not to notice how sexy he looked with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. “Hmm. It seems I need to explain myself,” he said, sinking to his knees on the floor so that he could look me in the eye.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I griped, smacking his hand when he tried to lift the hem of my dress.
His dark eyes snapped to my face. “Once I get these bullets out of you, I’m going to explain everything, and then I’m going to make you cream my dick while these two dumbasses watch,” he grumbled as his hands gripped just above the bullet hole in my thigh. My face heated at his words, but before I could argue, he pushed my dress up, exposing my bloodied legs in the process.
All three of the males hissed when they saw the amount of blood still pumping from my leg, the wound looking gruesome and deep. “Fuck, Wid,” Tomb said, a flash of guilt covering his face. “It’s my fault the bullet got past me and hit you.”
“Remember our talk about not being allowed to feel guilty?” I said to him. “This applies to you now.”
He shot me an unconvinced look, his lips thinning into a line, but he didn’t argue further.
The sound of tearing jerked my attention back to the demon in front of me, who’d just ripped the fabric of my dress at my shoulder. My hands automatically flew up to hold my dress to my chest, not allowing it to slip down. But Risk’s full attention was on the wound. “This one went clean through, so at least there’s that,” he said, gently checking the exit wound on my back.
I tried to swat him away again but was unsuccessful. I didn’t want his hands on me. I certainly didn’t want the thrill I got when his touch roved through my system. My body responded to him in earnest even though I tried to hold those feelings at bay. I felt comforted by his tenderness, and I hated myself for that instinctual response. Would this be how it was from now on? Would I always crave him? Would there always be an invisible chain keeping us together? More tears burned my eyes.
“This is going to hurt, okay?” he said before digging his fingers into the plush skin of my thigh. It felt unsanitary and gory, but he was rooting around the wound, burrowing deeper and deeper until he was tugging at the bullet lodged in the tissue of my muscles.
“Motherfucker!” I screamed, my body nearly launching off the couch.
“Hold her down,” Risk snapped.
Tomb and Crow glowered at him, obviously not liking t
hat he was causing me pain, but Crow was the first to realize that it needed to be done. He sat beside me on the couch and gathered me against him, my body slumping over his chest as his arms banded around my middle.
“Try to stay still,” Risk told me before I felt his fingers begin to ferret around again, making another scream rip from my throat.
“Hurry up!” Tomb demanded. “You’re hurting her.”
“I wasn’t the one that allowed our mate to get shot,” Risk fired back accusingly.
Tomb’s fists clenched, but I reached up and grabbed his hand before it could turn to stone and smash into Risk’s face again. “Hey,” I said, hating the shame that coated his eyes. “It’s not your fault. I’ll be okay as soon as he gets the fucking thing out.”
Tomb knelt down and brought my hand to his lips, skimming a kiss over my knuckles. I tried to latch onto that feeling, even as Risk’s fingers swiped around, making more blood ooze out. Sweat coated my skin, and a cry of pain slipped out of me as the demon’s blood-soaked fingers finally grasped the bullet and plucked it out.
“There,” he said, holding it in all its bloody glory. It was strange how something so small could cause so much pain.
Tomb’s fist shot out, and he grabbed the bullet, crushing it in his stone fist. We all watched as metal flakes drifted to the floor.
“I’m sorry I did not protect you better,” Tomb said, his head bowed.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. If anyone should still be apologizing, it was me. I opened my mouth to talk some sense into him, but Risk stood up and said, “Time to heal, Wicked Love.”
I glanced up at him warily. “I’ll heal just fine now that the bullet is out.”
He gestured to the wounds that were still weeping blood. “You aren’t a simple vampire anymore, Motley.”
“What does that mean? I won’t heal?” I asked, frowning.
“Oh, you’ll heal,” Risk assured me. “But not the same way. Your spider makes her mates indestructible for a reason. You are now sustained through your bond to us,” he explained.
