Savage Bond (The Fallen)

by Anne Marsh

  "You want my photos."

  He shot her an inscrutable look. "I could kill you right now, Ria," he pointed out. "If you had time to pop the vidstick on that camera of yours, you'll have secured it somewhere on your person. I could strip you right now, find that card for myself." He shrugged. "Or kill you and dispose of your body. I have lots of options—the one who doesn't have any options in this scenario is you. You have exactly one choice—whether or not you trust me. If you want to get out of here alive, you're going to choose to trust me."

  "You'll take me out of here?"

  "I'll get you over the wall," he said. "You'll go home."

  "Without my pics," she groused.

  He reached down and held out a hand again. "Make up your mind," he ordered. "You trust me and you go home. It's that simple, Ria."

  Pale white lines from old injuries cut through that sun-darkened skin, scars he'd carry with him forever—and forever was a damned long time when you were near-immortal. Strong, blunt fingers. Capable fingers. Capable of anything, she reminded herself, but there was no escaping the searing heat of the memories of those fingers touching her skin. Holding her in place. He could do whatever she wanted. Anything.

  So why was she thinking about taking his offer?

  The noise warned her first.

  Vkhin dropped his hand, reached for his weapons.

  Growls echoed from the trees nearest them as a pack of rogues exploded into the clearing. Oh, God. When the rogues had attacked the chopper, all she'd seen was a pack of winged creatures methodically driving the bird downwards. She'd had an impression of cruel wings and size, but now, face to face with what was coming after her, she realized the sneak peek hadn't prepared her for the reality.

  The rogues were big, tough bastards with dark, malformed faces. It was as if someone had brutalized a Neanderthal, making the male harsher, more malevolent. Twisting familiar human features into something purely bestial. The eyes were the worst, though. Those eyes were colder than cold, pure hollow emptiness that advertised the stone-cold killer within.

  She didn't want them anywhere near her.

  This was why she needed him. Not for sex but for survival. She didn't want to die here and he was the only one who could help her.

  "Take cover," Vkhin snapped. She looked wildly around. He had to stop giving impossible orders. Not that she took orders, but there was no cover. Just a handful of scrawny trees, a really inhospitable looking cluster of rocks and the deflated chute. Where did he think she was going to go?

  There was nowhere safe.

  Ruthlessly, he palmed his blades and slammed into the rogue nearest him. Those black eyes of his were pure ice as he methodically cut down the first wave of rogues. Those twin blades of his sliced, ripping through flesh and tore apart bone and sinew until blood painted the ground and trees. The thick copper stink choked her lungs when she sucked air in desperately. The powerful blows were a stark reminder he was a powerful ancient and he wasn't human. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, to pretend this was just a bad sim, but she was tired of hiding. Tired of waiting for other people to fight her battles for her. Although Vkhin looked more than capable.

  Moving with lethal swiftness, he pulled more blades, the vicious edges driving into the attacking rogues.

  The rogues were monsters, clawing and lunging for her strange protector. Why should she trust him? How could she? From where she was, he didn't look all that different from their attackers. A little less dark, but the same ferocious rage twisted his features, drove him forward. He was pure violence incarnate and that made him bad, bad news.

  I should run, she thought. He was distracted. She had a chance.

  She took two steps away from the trees. Freedom beckoned. She should take it.

  No.

  She stopped.

  No more running.

  "Get down," Vkhin roared. When Ria didn't follow orders, he hooked a hand in the collar of her jumpsuit and tossed her behind him. The Preserves' rocky terrain made a decent hidey-hole, with enough good-sized boulders to give some cover. Ria Morgan was a small female and she'd fit if she kept that stubborn head of hers down and out of trouble. Off-balance, she hit the ground harder than he liked, but bruised was preferable to dead.

  He'd make it up to her later.

  Right now, though, he got himself between her and their incoming, praying to a God who'd given up on him millennia ago that Ria Morgan had the good sense to stay down.

  The immediate movement behind him, as she scrambled to her feet, warned him she wasn't the staying put kind. Fuck. He'd deal with her, but first he had business to take care of. A quick scan of the males coming out told him he needed to make every blow count. Four rogues front and center, and they probably had a few more fighters hanging back to take care of clean up. That was just fine with him. He'd been jonesing for a fight since he'd watched Ria's chopper go down.

  Adrenaline and fury rushed through him and it felt good to palm the blade. He didn't understand why, but Ria Morgan was his. He knew this in his bones, in the dead organ that had been his heart so long ago. She belonged with him and the Dominion he'd been before he'd Fallen wasn't letting anyone take her from him.

  "Come and get me," he growled, surveying their attackers. Bastards had blades and guns and their first shot took out his comm. Well, fuck. He hadn't planned on doing an SOS, but he'd wanted to confirm the pick up details before he headed out with Ria. He wasn't going to be doing that now.

  That just pissed him off further. Launching a throwing star with lethal accuracy, he took out that anger on the responsible party. Gun went flying as the rogue dropped. Not dead, yet, because the only surefire way to take out one of Heavens' bad boys was to cut off his head, but the bastard wasn't going to be getting up any time soon, either. Worked for him.

  "I've got your back," she said and he glared behind him. She'd got that damned pack of hers open, her hands rifling through the contents while her eyes stared at the carnage happening around her. This was not her fight and she could damn well stay where he'd put her.

  "You move," he said harshly, "and you won't like the consequences. You understand me, Ria?" If she stayed down, stayed put, those rocks would give her some protection.

  She must have read the truth on his face because she nodded, wide-eyed. Yeah. She looked at him and what she saw was one hundred percent killer. He bared his teeth and lunged for the first rogue.

  The fight was brief but impossibly brutal. Vkhin gutted two of their attackers, then snapped the neck of the third. Inhaling, she got the Glock out and squeezed off a round.

  The fourth rogue dropped hard, a red circle blossoming in the center of his forehead. She looked around wildly. She'd shot him. And it felt right. She was shaking, but this was something she had to do for herself. She was done sitting around. Hiding. He hadn't been human, she reminded herself. And he definitely hadn't harbored friendly intentions.

  She fired again when the body twitched, the rogue rolling onto his side and levering himself upright. "Die, you bastard," she hissed.

  More red blossoms spread across the rogue's chest. The monster staggered but didn't stay down.

  "No," Vkhin snapped. The gun flew out of her hand as he turned in her direction, his arm sweeping into hers. Fingers stinging. "You want to advertise our presence here, you keep right on firing. And bullets won't kill him. You take his head off, he dies. Anything else and he's coming back after you eventually. You put him down, you make sure he stays down."

  With brutal economy, he reached down and finished off the rogue she'd shot with a quick drag of knife across the male's jugular. She looked away as the head came off and Vkhin tossed it to one side.

  "Now," he growled, "I believe we were discussing your options. Or lack thereof."

  Swinging her around, he pinned her against a tree and ruthlessly kissed her.

  Chapter Three

  Vkhin's kiss was as unexpected as it was hard. Demanding a response she couldn't deny him. She'd been ambushed b
y a master. His mouth came down on hers, covering her lips as his tongue ruthlessly parted her lips and pushed inside. She'd expected brutality, not the erotic tease. Sure but not rough. Like he knew exactly how wet she was.

  One big hand slid into her hair angling her head, his thumb ruthlessly nudging her jaw lower so he could take more. That erotic stroke was an unexpected pleasure. God. She could get used to this. He tasted like sage and spice, of the outdoors and something entirely, primitively masculine.

  He got her pinned between his large body and the tree and she should have been protesting. Should have shoved at him because things like this didn't happen to her and they certainly weren't supposed to. But her adrenaline and fear needed an outlet and, in Vkhin's arms, the lines between that fear and arousal blurred and blended.

  And she loved it.

  Adrenaline hit her hard, swamping her with the rush of being alive when others were dead because she'd been lucky. Because she'd fought to stay that way.

  Now she fought for air, his mouth stealing her breath right away. He'd take more than that, take all of her. He was bad news and she shouldn't be standing there. Shouldn't be leaning into him, her fingers curling around his shoulders as she just stood there and felt. Felt him, felt the rough-soft brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin of her face. He kissed her and kissed her, his mouth open against hers, his tongue driving into her mouth the way she suspected she wanted his body on hers. In hers.

  That unexpected, unspeakable pleasure burned right through her. She didn't want to lose the contact, so she pulled him into her body and he came, giving her the heavy weight of his body against hers. He shifted, advanced, pressing one thickly muscled thigh against the apex of her thighs. And she melted, parting around him.

  The sound of his breathing filled her ears. Harsh and rough. Aroused. He wanted her.

  Then he drew back, his teeth nipping at her lower lip until the sharp pleasure-pain shot straight to her pussy. Her clit throbbed in time with the small pulse in her lip. When he lifted his head, all she wanted was to pull him back. Arousal made her almost painfully aware of him. If she was dying out here, she'd die with a smile on her face. She reached up, to touch the almost invisible mark on her lower lip, to reach out for him—and he wrapped her wrists in one large hand, pulling out plastic cuffs.

  Hell, no.

  "Last chance to negotiate. We can do this the hard way, sweetheart." The stroke of that plastic along her skin shouldn't have been so sexy. "Or, you can give me what I want."

  Somewhere too close, something large and fuel-heavy exploded, the sound pushing out towards them. Her mind did a three sixty, traveling right back to the chopper and Lieutenant Jones. Had the other woman made it out in time? Or was her body inside the burning wreckage right now? Fuck her wrists and whatever game he thought he was playing with her. She was kissing one of the Fallen while her fellow agents died. Arousal drained away, replaced by grief and anger.

  "What happened to the others?" she asked fiercely, pulling at her wrists. "You have to know. Did they get out?"

  "What do you think happened?" he rasped. The plastic cuffs snapped effortlessly into place, proving she was no match for his strength. "MVD sends a chopper into Fallen airspace, bad shit happens, sweetheart. Your chopper is down."

  "There were two people on that chopper." He knew. He had to know.

  For a moment, she thought he was going to try to bargain with her. She didn't know what she would have done then, but instead he simply reached over and fastened her wrists to a branch over her head. She didn't resist because she wanted the information he had, pushing her fingers into the bark and hanging on. Maybe, he'd give her what she needed, the information she wanted so desperately. Maybe, he wouldn't.

  Somehow, he left her feeling off-balance and uncertain, and it was just the edge of desire she felt when she was around him. She didn't know what he wanted from her, not really. As she stared at him, he edged her flight gloves down, baring her wrists. The unexpected gesture made her feel strangely naked as he eyed the pale, vulnerable skin between her glove and the sleeve of her flight suit.

  "Your pilot never had a chance," he said quietly. His fingers stroked over her exposed skin and her skin jumped at his touch. "He died in his seat, still strapped in. It would have been quick."

  Grief overwhelmed her for the man she hadn't known. Now, that pilot would never be more than a quick smile when she'd checked in and then he'd lifted off and they'd been on their way. Whoever he was in his off-hours, he wasn't going home.

  "Why didn't you stop that crash?" Memories assailed her. "You should have stopped it."

  He retreated from her, his fingers slipping away from her wrist as that mask of icy, disciplined determination slammed back into place. God. The man was seething underneath that calm exterior, a cauldron of unexpected emotions. "I will. But first you have to give me those pictures."

  "Too late," she whispered reluctantly. She didn't know if she could bargain with him anyhow, but the truth was, he was too late. "I sent the pics digitally before I jumped."

  She shouldn't be regretting that decision. It had been her job to get those pictures out, no matter what. Still, part of her regretted she no longer had that bargaining chip. Part of her wanted to keep playing this too-sexy game of what-if and I-could. She'd watched him for two months on MVD's orders, but she hadn't figured him out. Didn't know if she ever could, and that fascinated her even more than his body did.

  His slow, satisfied smile warned her even before she caught his words. "Check mate, sweetheart."

  She closed her eyes, exhaustion and the events of the day catching up with her. "You intercepted the transmission."

  "Yeah." He tested the plastic cuffs and stepped away. "Never got there." His slow, hot once-over of her body made her feel more alive than she had in months. "See, I'm still betting you've got the vidstick on you. Somewhere. I can look for it when I get back." Maybe, that kiss of his had been pure practicality, an easy way to shut her up before their pursuers overheard her argument and honed in on their position. Or, maybe her dark angel wanted her.

  Lust slammed into her. At least, that was what she told herself as she eyed the zipties securing her wrists. This was a game to him. A deadly, serious game—but a game, nonetheless. She was playing him for her soul and her freedom—two things she couldn't do without.

  "We're going to work something out," he threatened, even as a second explosion had his head coming up. "Think about it, Ria. Think really carefully. The rogues are coming for you and I'm the best chance you've got to get out of here. MVD can't help you now."

  He tucked the chute around her like a blanket and leaned in. "I'm going to cover your tracks and then I'll be back in ten."

  In the next instant, he was gone, leaving her alone to contemplate his warning.

  She had ten minutes.

  Ten minutes to choose whether she lived or died.

  Covering her tracks took less than the promised ten. Ria Morgan was inexperienced and he'd been tracking for millennia. She'd kicked over rocks and pushed through the trees before he'd caught up with her. The signs of her passage he could and did erase, but there wasn't much he could do about the bodies. Even if he'd had the means to make the bodies go missing, an a.w.o.l. pack of rogues would have raised alarms anyhow. Those hadn't been acting on their own and whoever was controlling their strings would have eventually demanded a check in. So he'd move out fast, get Ria Morgan back to her own world before shit hit the fan in his.

  That kiss kept replaying in his head. Her mouth had opened up beneath his like the sweetest of night flowers, letting him in just that little bit. The sweet, hot taste of her meant now he had an erection that wouldn't quit and he wanted all the way in. Zer's words were practically permission—bond with her—and his cock knew it.

  She was right where he'd left her, which was just one advantage of a little bondage. That was a fantasy he didn't need right now, though. Imagining Ria Morgan, tied up, waiting for his cock was pure mist
ake. She was business and he wasn't fucking with her. She deserved better than that.

  He had to let her go.

  Still, he wasn't quite prepared for the sight of her. Her head rested against the tree trunk, right where he'd left her because she really was out of choices. Deep, steady in-and-out breathing said she'd spent her ten minutes wrestling her emotions back under control. She jumped and tensed when he stepped back into the clearing, but pretended she hadn't noticed his arrival. He didn't like playing on her fear—even if that sharp emotion made his darker side perk up and take notice—but he didn't have too many choices, either. He needed her ready to deal.

  "Time's up," he said, as if he'd run down to the corner store for milk and a dozen eggs. She flinched and he knew his voice sounded flat and unemotional—which was enough of a message, wasn't it? She couldn't keep fucking with him and they both knew it. "You need to make your decision, Ria."

  "I can't," she said and her voice was a mere whisper of sound. She cleared her throat, as if she wanted her voice to be bigger, to fill up the space between them, but she was tapped out. "I can't do that, Vkhin. You know who I work for. You know the rules. As long as I'm an MVD agent, I'm not a free agent."

  "They don't have to know. You tried to transmit and the transmission got cut off. Maybe you lost the camera when you jumped. Maybe that camera hit the ground a little too hard. There are many reasons why you wouldn't have what they need. Pick a story, Ria, and they don't have to know the truth."

  "I don't sell out." Who was she trying to convince?

  He shook his head and reached for her wrists. "Everyone does. Everyone has a price."

  "Everyone human, you mean," she clarified. He should have left her tied up, because nothing got the point across faster than restraints, but he needed to get her moving fast. So he got out his knife, angling the sharp tip beneath the plastic ties.

  He disagreed with her argument, though, and he wasn't feeling polite. "Everyone, Ria. Human. Fallen. We all can be bought if the price is right. We just have to find your price. Hold still," he added as the sharp edge brushed against her exposed skin.