by Larissa Ione
One eyeless male stood up, his pasty skin reminding her of a grub. Or a maggot. His hands were encased in metal, with spikes at the knuckles. “One kill. Whoever we command. Just one. Agree or leave.”
“Don’t do it, Idess,” Lore growled in a voice so low she doubted the others could hear.
Adrenaline coursed through her veins in a stinging rush. She couldn’t do it. To kill like that… it would eliminate her as a candidate for Ascension. But she’d be eliminated if she lost Kynan, too.
“I cannot kill,” she said. “But I could serve in some other way.”
“Idess!” Lore squeezed her elbow. “Don’t.”
They all looked to the white-skinned one. “Agreed.”
Oh, God, what had she done?
He moved toward her, peeling off one of the gauntlets as he approached. When he was in front of her he smiled, a baring of tiny, sharp teeth. “For six months you will be mine.”
A seismic rumble rolled up from Lore’s chest. “Oh, no she won’t.” His arm hooked around her throat as he yanked her backward, and then there was an incredible pressure on her throat, and then… nothing.
The world went black.
Shit, shit, shit. Lore had really stepped in it this time. He sprinted through the Guild Hall, Idess in his arms, after knocking her cold with a modified sleeper hold. Deth’s furious shouts followed him. The demon was going to torture the ever-living fuck out of him for this.
Spurred by footfalls behind him, he kicked the outer door so hard it splintered, vaulted through it, and hit the portal at a run. When he emerged in what felt like slow motion into the killbox, he didn’t pause. And when his slave-bond lit up as if it was on fire, he breathed through the agony and ran harder, until he was safely shut into a Harrowgate. Panting and cursing, he tapped out the map until he arrived at the gate closest to his house.
Idess began to stir, and shit, she was going to kick his ass, too.
Freaking Grim Reaper’s daughter.
Leave it to him to get messed up with Death’s little girl. Fuck.
He exploded out of the Harrowgate and didn’t stop until he reached his front door. It was unlocked, as always, and fortunately, Sin wasn’t there waiting for him. The last thing he needed right now was her concern, lectures, or drama fits.
He laid Idess on the couch, but she’d awakened enough to squirm into a sit. “What… what happened?” She blinked up at him, her gaze a little glassy.
“I saved you from making a monster of a mistake.”
She blinked again, and then came to her feet so fast he had to take a step back. “You what?”
“I take it you remember?”
“They were going to tell me who is trying to kill my Primori!” she shouted.
He held up his hands. “You wake up grumpy. You’re not a morning person, are you?”
She gaped in outrage. “You… you—”
He palmed the nape of her neck, tugged her close, and kissed her. His assault tactics didn’t work. Her squeal of outrage and fists against his shoulders were his first clue that this might not be the best approach to the situation. The knee to the groin was the second.
He’d been prepared for that, though, and he’d stepped back and twisted, avoiding what would have been a painful blow.
“You son of a bitch!”
“What?” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You were mad.”
“I wasn’t talking about the kiss.”
He grinned. “Does that mean I can do it again?”
She stomped her foot. Actually stomped her foot in indignant fury. It probably shouldn’t have been cute, but it was. “Lore, this is serious!”
“I seriously saved you from Detharu’s service.” Rubbing his seared chest, he moved toward the kitchen and had to bite down on a smile at her huff of frustration.
“I didn’t need to be saved,” Idess said, following him into the tiny kitchen space.
“Yeah, you did. You were in way over your pretty little angel head.”
“I’m two thousand years old. I’ve been around the block, you know.”
He laughed. “Really? Do you have any idea what he would have used you for? Go ahead and picture him naked. Because he uses his assassins for more than just killing.”
“Oh… good Lord.” Her hand flew up to her throat. “Has he… does he…”
“I’ve been lucky.” He dug a glass out of a cupboard. “I think he’s afraid of me. None of his assassins can harm him with intent, but because just touching my arm can kill… he’s not taking any chances.”
She looked down at her jeans and brushed away some invisible lint. “Still, I would have worked out specifics with him—”
“He was going to brand you. When he reached for you, that’s what he was going to do. You would have had a handprint on your chest to match mine and it would have been too late to negotiate.”
Her mouth worked soundlessly. “Oh.”
“A thank-you would be nice,” he drawled, as he grabbed a jug of his rotgut out of the fridge. It wasn’t even cold. Damned fridge had shit the bed again. But then, he’d had the Kelvinator since 1940, just like the oven he never used.
“You couldn’t have warned me? You had to kidnap me instead?”
He laughed. “That, coming from you?” He splashed liquor into a glass and took a swig. “Want one?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “Thanks, no.”
“You hungry? I have sandwich makings. I think. If you like peanut butter. And bologna.”
“As appetizing as that sounds, I’ll have to pass. Thank you, I’m fine.” She dragged her hand through her hair, tugging strands out of the ponytail, and sank back down on his couch. “Now what? I’m running out of ideas.”
“I have one, but it’s going to require Wraith. I need to contact the guys anyway, let them know that what’s going on could be about them instead of you.”
Lore’s plan for Wraith would be a longshot, though—he had no idea how effective Wraith’s mind-invasion thing would be on a being like Deth… assuming Lore could get the two of them together. And assuming Wraith didn’t kill Lore before that could happen. First, though, he was going to have to go to Detharu and take his punishment for stealing Idess. His chest was burning like a mother, and the pain was only hours away from holy-shit-I’m- going-to-die-debilitating.
In rapid succession, he slammed four more shots of alcohol to numb himself. He’d have to take his other edge off, too, the sexual one, so he’d be less likely to rage out during his torture. “Look, I have to take off. I’m just going to, ah, shower up and head out.”
“Where?”
“I need to see Sin,” he lied.
“I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
Idess let out an aggravated breath. “I’m not going to let you go alone.”
“You’re afraid I’ll hunt Kynan.” Guilt put shadows in her eyes, and he cursed. “I said I wouldn’t.” An unusually powerful blast of heat in his chest made him grit his teeth. “You don’t trust me?”
“I want to, Lore. But this is important.”
“You can’t go. I’m going to the assassin den.”
“No need.” Sin’s singsongy voice came through the screen door. “I’m here for a friendly visit.”
Shit. “Now’s not a good time, Sin.”
She ignored him to plop down in the recliner. She was dressed like a street thug, in baggy pants with chains, a black hoodie, and sneakers. Even her hair was tucked up under a backward Yankees ballcap. “So. How’d it go at the Guild?”
“It didn’t,” Idess said. “Your brother felt the need to rescue me.”
Sin cocked an eyebrow. “Rescue her?”
Lore slammed another shot. “Let’s drop it, ’kay?”
“What did you do?” He should have known better than to expect Sin to leave anything alone.
“He knocked me out and threw me over his shoulder like some sort of caveman,” Idess said, and
yeah, that was pretty true. “He claims that if he hadn’t, I’d have been branded like you two.”
Sin’s eyes widened, because she knew exactly what saving Idess had cost him. “Fuck,” she muttered, and gestured to his bottle. “Gimme.”
He passed it to her, and she swigged right from it. Dainty, his sister was not.
“I’m going to shower and go,” he muttered, and started toward the bathroom.
“But Sin is here,” Idess pointed out. “You have no reason to go to the den.”
Black eyes sparking, Sin planted the jug between her thighs. “Oh, he didn’t tell you?”
“Sin…”
She ignored his warning tone, but then, he didn’t expect anything else. “He seriously pissed off Deth by taking you away like that. He’s going to be tortured.”
Idess felt sick to her stomach as Lore ushered Sin out the door with instructions to bring Wraith back to Lore’s place. When he turned around, she stood, though not without effort. His couch must be a hundred years old, and if it had springs, they were dead. He truly didn’t care about his comfort. Or maybe he couldn’t afford nice things.
Or personal things, she noted with a frown. The walls were achingly bare. He had no knicknacks. Nothing that revealed anything about him—except what the lack of personal effects revealed about him; the house was set up so an intruder would learn nothing crucial about him or his sister. He could leave forever in a matter of minutes.
“Lore? Tell me what Sin said about you being tortured wasn’t true.”
He didn’t look at her as he moved toward the bathroom. “It wasn’t true.”
“You’re lying.”
“You told me to.”
“Damn you!” she snapped. “Stop!”
He halted, but he still didn’t look at her. “It’s all right, Idess. It’s not like Deth hasn’t done it before.”
The way he said it, as if it was no big deal because he was used to it, broke her heart. How many beatings did it take before one grew numb to it? Way too many, she suspected.
“I won’t let him do this.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “I’ll go to my father. I’ll—”
“Stop.” Lore rounded on her, but he didn’t look angry. If she had to pick a look, she’d say he seemed startled by her vow to help him. “I have to do this. I knew what I was getting into, and I’ll deal with it.”
“But why? Why did you do it? After what I’ve done to you, you should enjoy seeing me enslaved.”
“You really believe that?” He took a step toward her. “I’m risking Sin’s life by putting off what I have to do to Kynan. I’m doing that for you. Not for Kynan or my brothers. I took a knife for you. I’ve kissed you over and over when I never kiss anyone. So why the hell would I want to see you suffer?”
Her mouth dropped open in shock, and her stomach fluttered. Some idiotic feminine instinct she didn’t even know she had went tail-wagging stupid at his admission. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know.” He swiped the jug of liquor off the coffee table, where Sin had left it. “Fuck. I have no idea. Forget I said anything.”
Fat chance of that. She moved closer to him, not wanting to miss even the slightest nuances in his expression when she hit him with her sudden suspicion. “You don’t kiss anyone because you’re afraid of killing them, aren’t you? Same with sex, right?”
He turned away again, and she grabbed his arm—the right one, protected by his thick leather coat. “Lore? Tell me.”
“Yeah, okay? Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch your partner drop dead because you got off? No,” he said nastily, “I’m guessing you don’t.”
“But if you wear a sleeve and glove—”
“When I climax, my power punches right through it.”
She thought about how he’d stroked himself to completion over her and realized that he’d pinned her legs between his and held himself away from her—to keep her from thrashing and accidentally touching his arm when he came.
“Have you ever been with a woman safely?”
He swallowed, and now probably wasn’t the time to notice how sexy his throat was as the muscles worked beneath his tan skin, but whoa. “Just once. A long time ago.”
“Did you love her?”
He snorted. “I didn’t know her name. She blew me in an alley while I braced my arms above my head against a building.”
“Oh.” She could have gone all day without knowing that.
“You disgusted now? Because I am. Not because I paid some whore for sex, but because I was so fucking lonely that I risked killing her. I told you, I’m a selfish piece of shit.”
It broke her heart to hear him say that, because she’d seen a lot of evidence to the contrary. “A selfish person wouldn’t have signed up to be a slave to save his sister. A selfish person wouldn’t have locked himself away from society in order to protect them. You’re not selfish. You’ve slipped, like everyone else.”
He threw the jug across the room, shattering it against the wall. “My slips kill people, Idess!”
She looked down at his scuffed hardwood floor, at the wetness spreading across it like spilled blood. “Have you ever loved anyone? Besides your sister, I mean.” Say no.
“Why the hell are we talking about this?”
“I’m curious.”
“Because this is such great pretorture talk.”
The reminder dropped a bowling ball right into the pit of her stomach. “Please,” she begged. “I have to do something to stop it. I’ll go to my father and see if Deth can be given a heart attack or something.”
“Seriously?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “That’s what your father does?”
“Sort of. I don’t know how much pull I have with him. I haven’t seen him in centuries.”
She’d lived in Azagoth’s realm for a hundred years, right after she was pulled from her human life. She’d been Rami’s apprentice, learning the ways of the Memitim, how to flash and use her innate skills, learning the bazillions of rules. But once she was given Primori, she left the realm and hadn’t been back.
Lore reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. The gentle gesture was a lover’s touch, and it triggered an ache deep inside. “I told you,” he said quietly. “I knew what I was getting into.”
Flecks of gold pierced the black of his irises, moving fluidly, like sunlight on a stream. “Why do your eyes do that?” She went on her toes to get closer, amazed by the beauty. “They were red when you were enraged, but they’re gold now.”
“They do that when I’m mildly annoyed.” His gaze intensified, somehow growing both darker and more golden, and his earthy male scent filled her nostrils. “Or aroused.”
“Which are you now?” she croaked. No sooner had the question passed her lips than her body answered with a warm, wet rush between her legs.
“Guess.” His voice was deep and gravelly, and he spun around and headed for the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m about to be tortured,” he said, without looking back, “which will probably send me into a rage. If I don’t let off some steam before I go… it could be bad.”
“I can help,” she blurted. Part of her longed to experience the intimacy again, and part of her just wanted to do something for him. To be useful. To make up for chaining him and nearly getting him killed.
He ground to a halt at the doorway. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. In fact, it’s a terrible idea.”
“But you want it, don’t you? You want me to be the one to ease you.”
His big body shuddered. “God, yes.” And there was that penetrating rumble that made her heart quiver in her chest. “It’s better with you.”
“Better how?” It was stupid to keep pressing, because the more she knew, the closer she got to him. Yet, some dark, wild side of her wanted that. Wanted to walk the line between love and hate and see which way she tipped.
“Are you asking to feed your ego, or are y
ou genuinely curious about how you affect me?”
“Both, I think,” she said honestly.
The long, deep breath he took told her she’d given him the right answer. “My release is more powerful. It’s not that it feels better… I mean, it does… but I get more relief, more time before I need it again. Fuck, Idess… I can’t.”
“You didn’t have a problem letting me help you before,” she pointed out, though she did so breathlessly.
“I was chained with Bracken Cuffs the first time. I didn’t need to worry about touching you. The second time, you were restrained, so I was in control.” He rolled his broad shoulders, and the leather of his jacket strained at the seams. “I can’t risk it.”
“Not much can kill me.” She walked around him so she could look him in the eyes. “I’m not worried.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
Maintaining eye contact, she slid her palm down his arm to his gloved hand. His fingers curled around hers.
“Idess, this is stupid.” But he stepped into her, so close she could feel the heat coming off him.
Haltingly, she placed her other hand on his waist, felt the very slight tensing in his body. “I know.”
Seventeen
Idess’s words ricocheted through Lore, sucker punching him right in the soul.
You’re not selfish. You’ve slipped. Slipped. A slip could cost Idess her life.
Panic became shrink-wrap around his chest, and he released her. “No,” he croaked. “No. I can’t do this. Accidents happen.”
And no way was Idess going to be an accident. Just a few days ago, he might not have cared. But now he cared way too much.
“Lore—”
“No!” Before she could argue, he shut himself in his room. To his surprise, she didn’t barge in or even knock. She respected his privacy, and for some reason, her consideration sucker-punched him again.
Chest screaming with bond-pain and groin tight with the need she’d stirred, he paced, practically ran laps around his bedroom. He was hard and achy, but when he palmed his cock, God help him, it felt numb. His last couple of shower sessions had taken forever, but now? No matter how fast or hard he stroked, how hot the fantasy about Idess, he couldn’t get there.
