“Either watch over the girl while I take over the driving, or get out of the vehicle,” he said. “But you should know that if you harm her, I’ll kill you.”
The two leaned toward him, pressing against him. “You’re Lord Kane! I’ve been so desperate to meet you.”
“Say you’ll come to my party tonight,” the other pleaded.
They weren’t going to cooperate. Fine. He grabbed the female closest to him and “helped” her out of the vehicle. She rolled on the ground, screaming in shock and anger, dust flying all around her.
He turned to the other girl and reached.
She blew him a kiss and jumped.
Casting a final glance to Tink—nothing had changed; she was in the same condition—Kane swung out the door, holding on to the roof. He had to kick up his leg to crawl to the top of the vehicle, then slide down to the driver’s seat. The scent of animal and sweat immediately assaulted him.
The driver jolted, startled by his sudden presence, and tried to seize a weapon. Kane kicked him off the ledge and confiscated the reins. He whipped at the horses, and the carriage picked up speed. Once Tink was healed, he would leave this land, he thought. From the beginning, she’d been right. He couldn’t help her. If not for him, she wouldn’t be in this situation. He’d only made things worse for her.
In fact, he’d made things worse for everyone.
Once Disaster was taken care of, he would come back for her.
While he was gone, a man might come along and fall in love with her. A man worthy of her, good for her. That man would move heaven and earth to save her; he would do whatever she needed done. Wage war on her family. Yes. Romance her. Absolutely. Delight her, thrill her. Definitely. Sweep her away to another land, somewhere safe. The two would marry, and they would make love, have the children Tink was too afraid to have now, and she would be happy. Finally, blissfully happy.
Yes, one day.
And then I’ll kill the male for daring to take what’s mine.
The horses suddenly whinnied and stopped, raising their front legs and kicking in protest.
“Whoa, whoa,” Kane said. When they settled, he saw the blonde from the forest—Petra—standing in the road, her hands anchored on her hips.
“You shot me, and I assure you I’ll have my vengeance. But we’ll deal with that later,” she announced. “Right now, I want the girl.”
Get in line, female. “Too bad. She’s mine.”
Little golden flames exploded in her eyes. “Why don’t we bargain? You give her to me now. I’ll enslave her in the way of my people, and consider us even, then I’ll give her back in a few thousand years. How’s that?”
Kane would die first. “I hurt you once. Don’t make me do it again.”
She chuckled with genuine amusement. “I’d love to see you try, warrior. You won’t catch me by surprise a second time.”
Mine, Disaster said.
Kane snapped the reins, forcing the horses to plow ahead. The girl had to jump out of the way to avoid impact, but she waited until the very last second, grabbing onto the back wheel to be dragged along. Dust sprayed the air, probably choking her.
Silly girl. What did she think she would accomplish—
Tendrils of smoke wafted to his nose, and he coughed. Stiffening, he glanced back. The Phoenix had fallen away from the carriage, but she’d left one of the wheels engulfed by flames. That. Quickly. He grabbed the dagger hidden in his boot and cut the horses loose. As the carriage teetered to one side, Kane scrambled toward the doorway...teetered more wildly...and fell through the center door as the entire vehicle slammed into the ground.
Impact was brutal, but he managed to wrap his arms around Tink and absorb most of the shock. And when the carriage finally settled, smoke forming an impenetrable cloud, he realized Tink had gone quiet. Too quiet.
Extreme heat licked at him as he pressed two fingers into the pulse at her neck. A faint thump, thump greeted him, and he could have wailed with relief. Coughing, he lifted her and draped her limp body through the door frame. He pulled himself out, gaze scanning as he hefted her over his shoulder. Through the thickening smoke he saw the Phoenix racing toward them, her body a living flame, fully engulfed, just like the wheel—no, the whole bottom half of the carriage now—and crackling with menace.
He expected to see her fellow warriors, but there were none. He made a split-second decision.
He had to kill her, if only for a little while. As with all Phoenix, she would die and her body would burn to ash. But there was a very real possibility she would rise again, more powerful than before.
Whatever. Kane threw the blade still clutched in his hand, and it soared toward her, flipping end over end. She jumped up and to the side, attempting to move out of harm’s way, but the dagger he’d taken from the Fae king possessed an ability she hadn’t anticipated, switching course and following her, amazing him. As high as she was, the blade found a home in her belly, rather than her spinal cord.
She grunted, hit the ground without any grace.
He tossed a second dagger, but didn’t stick around to make sure it succeeded where the first one had failed. He hopped to the ground, ran off the road and into the forest with Tink bouncing on his shoulder. He tried to be gentle, but gentle wasn’t possible. Thick trees surrounded him, but he pushed through the leaves and limbs, determined and angry and already planning his next move.
“I’ll take care of the Phoenix,” he vowed to Tink. While he might not be able to do much for her before he left Séduire, he could do that.
He found tracks created by the palace guard, the imprint of their boots giving them away. They’d clearly stopped and checked out all the singed places where the Phoenix had burned a bush or a plant or a patch of grass. But what he didn’t see were imprints of more than one Phoenix. Only the girl.
Could she be on her own? Simply making it seem like others were with her?
That...made sense, he realized. She had to think an army of Phoenix would intimidate the Fae, make them more likely to give up Tink to save their land from war.
Not on my watch. He burst from the shield of the forest, turned a corner and made it to the cobbled path that led to the palace. Of course, the first person Kane spotted was Leopold, leading a contingent of armed guards out the front doors.
“You’re going to pay,” the prince vowed.
“You can try to hurt me later,” Kane replied, never slowing.
Blue eyes fell on Tink and flared with concern, the rage completely obliterated. “What happened? What did you do to her?” The prince waved the guards away. The moment Kane was within reach, he snapped, “Give her to me.”
“Get out of my way!” There was enough crazed fury in Kane’s tone to startle the man. Wisely, the prince backed off. Kane barreled past him, past the double doors, and shouted, “I want a doctor sent to my room. Now!”
Leopold rushed to his side, keeping pace. “She absorbed the abilities of someone, didn’t she? No, no need to deny it. I know her. She did. I also know one of our doctors wouldn’t be able to help her. Not with something like that. Take her to my room and I’ll—”
Kane ignored him, stomping up the steps and into his own bedroom. He kicked the fancy, impractical cover away and eased her atop the mattress. She was still too quiet.
His hand trembled as he smoothed the hair from her face. Beads of sweat dotted her brow, causing several of the strands to stick. Her cheeks were fever-bright.
The prince approached the other side of the bed. “I could have you arrested for what you did to me, and what you allowed to happen to the princess’s blood slave.”
“I plan to leave as soon as she’s healed. If you want me to spend my remaining days here wedding Synda, killing your father, taking over the kingdom and ordering your torture, you’ll threaten me again.” Actually, that wasn’t a bad plan. It was quick and easy and effective—but it meant being with someone other than Tink. “If not, you’ll shut your mouth.”
The prince
shut his mouth.
Kane hated that a doctor couldn’t help her, hated that only time would heal this woman who’d snuck past his defenses—if there was even a cure. But he hated the feeling of helplessness more, of doing nothing but waiting for her to awaken...or die.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JOSEPHINA TUMBLED THROUGH a world of darkness, every corner offering a new chamber of horrors. Screams of agony here. The worst kind of silence there. Big, fat insects everywhere, buzzing around her, biting at her. Pangs of the most intense, bone-deep hunger she’d ever experienced, burning, gnawing at her insides. And rage, so much rage filled her; she wanted to fight someone, anyone. Wanted to conquer and destroy. But how could she do either? She was conquered herself, already destroyed.
Her blood was molten, liquid flame. Her throat hurt, as if it had been scraped raw with a blade. Did she have any skin left? She felt peeled...exposed to the world.
“Kane,” she tried to shout, but no sound emerged.
Where was he? Where was she? What had happened to her?
Memories of a life she hadn’t lived bombarded her. She swung a sword, beheading a demon. She stood over the dying body of a human soul, laughing. She watched a winged female with desire building in her veins. Death...death...all around her. Pain, suffering, regret. More than even a legion could bear.
Something soft brushed against her cheek, trailed along her jaw. “I’m here, Tink. I’m not going anywhere.”
His voice. Soothing, beseeching. Pulling her out of the darkness, out of the horror, and into a light...a growing light...brighter and brighter. A moan left her as she struggled to rise.
“That’s the way, beautiful girl. Come on, sweetheart. You can do it.”
Her eyelids pried apart, and in the next instant she was peering into Kane’s handsome face. I’m safe now. He’ll keep me safe.
Their gazes got tangled up, neither of them able to look away, and relief softened his expression. Yet, despite the relief, lines of tension bracketed his eyes and mouth. His skin was pallid, and his clothing wrinkled. His hair was spiked, as if he’d stuck his finger into a light socket.
“You’re back.”
“Where’d I go?” Her voice was a mere croak. She tried to reach up to massage the soreness out of her throat, but her arm proved too heavy to lift. “Where am I?”
His lashes fused, hiding whatever emotion her words had elicited. “I brought you to my bedroom.”
Her gaze, the only thing she could currently move, swept around to find...yes, Kane’s bedroom. She recognized it immediately—while hers was small, plain and filled with eight cots and seven other females, his was total luxury. A gold-and-crystal chandelier hung overhead. The walls were splashed with gold-framed paintings by famous Fae artists who had died throughout the centuries.
Josephina sprawled across the huge, ultra-soft four-poster bed, wearing a T-shirt far too big for her, as well as her gloves, with a velvet blanket covering the lower half of her body.
“Do you remember the bar?” Kane asked. “The fight? The three warriors you touched?”
Remember...yes. She’d touched one, then the other, and the other, and a surge of strength had overcome her, such beautiful strength. But then...oh, then, the darkness had enclosed her, dragging her down, down, down, into a cavern of despair and helplessness.
“You drew the evil out of them and into yourself. I carried you to the palace,” Kane continued. He removed his hand from her face, becoming her anchor, the only thing holding her here. “You’ve been in bed for four days.”
Four days!
The realization sickened her. Her father would be angry with her—had probably even tried to force her out of bed at some point. She had duties, and she would be punished for failing them. But the real reason she panicked? Kane’s wedding was now that much closer.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I dealt with your father.”
His gorgeous hazels were still glued to her, seeming to drink her in and memorize every feature. She could barely blink, caught up in the intensity of him, captivated by the majesty of him...confused by the number of injuries on him.
“What happened to you?” she asked. “My father? Brother?”
He rubbed the angry cuts on his forehead. “Disaster.”
She’d always hated Synda’s demon, and she’d always hated the Lords’ demons. They wreaked havoc on their keepers and ruined...everything. But what she’d felt then could not compare to what she felt now. She wanted Disaster dead. “Well, thank you for taking care of me.” Besides her mother, he was the first to ever do so.
He smiled softly...tenderly. “I thought you’d curse at me.”
For a lot of things, yes. But that? Never. “Why?”
“I haven’t forgotten your desire to die, Tink,” he said, his voice a low, menacing scrape.
“Not that way,” she whispered. Never that way. The evil she’d housed would have dragged her straight into hell, condemning her to a worse fate than the one she now lived.
Kane toyed with the ends of her hair, and the contact, slight though it was, awakened the very pangs she’d battled at the dressmaker’s shop. Hunger—for him. Need—for his touch. Desire—for so much more.
“Have you ever spoken to the Moirai?” he asked.
Even the name tainted the atmosphere around her. “No.”
“Have you heard of them?”
“Of course. They claim to weave the fates.”
“Claim?” He released her to lift a cup of water from the nightstand. “You think it’s a lie?”
“Absolutely.” Until that moment, Josephina hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. Everything else was forgotten.
He placed a straw at her lips, and she sucked and sucked and sucked, the cool liquid soothing her throat.
Kane watched her mouth...her throat.
When the cup was empty, she leaned back, licked her lips.
He watched that, too.
“More?” he asked, heat darkening his eyes.
“Yes, please.” But she wasn’t sure what she wanted—more water, or more Kane.
He lifted a pitcher and poured more heavenly water into the cup. The moment the straw returned to her lips, the bottom of the cup broke. Cold liquid splashed over her, and she gasped.
“I’m so sorry,” Kane mumbled, hopping up to gather something to help. He started to dry her off, cursed, then handed her the rags.
When she finished, he hesitantly offered her another cup.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I probably needed a bath.”
His lips twitched with the barest thread of amusement. “I made sure you stayed clean.”
Cheeks heating, she drained the water. At last, strength began to return to her, running through her veins, sparking her organs to life.
“Why do you think the Moirai are liars?” Kane asked.
“Well, to start, people have free will. Fate doesn’t decide what direction they ultimately go.”
His fingers returned to her hair, as if drawn by an invisible string. “William said something similar.”
“William is quite wise.”
He rolled his eyes. “Continue.”
“Fate says everything is meant to be. But I can’t believe my mother was meant to endure such hardships. I can’t believe I was meant to be a slave.”
“Explain.”
One-word demands had never been so...sexy. Shivering, she said, “My father decided he wanted my mother, so, he took her. It was her decision to stay here. I was born and told I had a purpose, and it was my choice to believe it or reject it.”
He peered at her, silent...thinking? “What about marriages? Do you believe there’s someone destined for everyone?”
“Oh, yes, but not everyone follows that destiny.” She hoped he heard what she wasn’t saying—he needed to be careful about Synda and White. “Hence, free will can get in the way.”
“So, you’re saying choices and destiny shape the course of our lives?”
“I think so, yes. It’s just easier to blame fate for all of the mistakes.”
He ghosted his thumb along the curve of her jaw, drawing goose bumps to the surface. “You’ve been hurt by other people’s choices.”
Caught up in the intimacy of the moment, she leaned into the touch. “So have you.”
“Yes.” A pause, as if he struggled with his next words. “The Moirai say I’m destined to start an apocalypse.”
On top of wedding the girl, White? Did he believe them?
The spell was broken. “Those hobags aren’t all-powerful, Kane.”
“Hobags?” He grinned.
How could she make him understand? “They simply thrive on chaos, planting their ideas into our heads. We think about it, we obsess about it, ultimately acting in a manner befitting what was said, thereby causing what was said to happen.”
“Like a self-fulfilling prophecy.” He arched a brow. “You know all of this, and yet you’ve never spoken to them?”
Touch me again. Gather me in your arms. Tell me you don’t desire White. “Well, I never said they hadn’t spoken to me.”
He stiffened. “So you’ve actually met with them?”
“Yes.” And the meeting had enraged her.
Years ago, the three hags told her she was destined to cause her mother’s death. All she’d managed was a few gasps before they’d shooed her away, but from that moment on, Josephina had begun to fear hurting her beloved mother in any way, and had overanalyzed her every word and action.
Josephina had stopped eating, stopped sleeping. She’d stopped visiting her mother, too afraid of what damage she might cause. After a while, the fear had become infectious. Her mother had begun to worry over Josephina’s health, and had mourned over Josephina’s perceived defection. Glorika had lost weight, energy and vitality—and soon, the king’s favor. She was cast out of his bedroom and back to the servant quarters.
There, she was treated more shamefully than ever. She was shunned by the women and secretly harassed by many of the men. The queen had taken great pleasure in humiliating her at every turn.
In the end, Glorika had killed herself. All because Josephina had stayed away from her. So, yes. Josephina had helped destroy her. Had she never worried, nothing bad would have happened to either of them. Her mother would still be alive.
Gena Showalter - [Lords of the Underworld 13] Page 18
