Master of the Abyss

by Cherise Sinclair

  She made a sound, and he looked up, hope scrabbling to the surface of his mind. Tears streamed from her dark eyes, and he knew he had the key. If she died first, her evil would wash out of his body. He could still die, but his soul would escape the black abyss of hell.

  She took a step closer. No. A demon might care for her slave, but not enough, never enough. “You’re trying to trick me.” His words slurred, his tongue stumbling. The blackness surged through him in waves.

  “No trick. I’m right here,” she said. He blinked, bringing her back into focus. She’d moved closer, clawed hands in front of her. Empty. Pleading—with him.

  “No, Kallie!” her other servant shouted.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Oh please,” Kallie whispered, to Andrew, to God, to whoever might help. She could barely see through the tears in her eyes but couldn’t miss the widening red spilling down Virgil’s neck. If the monster pressed harder, he’d hit the artery and…

  He muttered something about demons and slaves. A sacrifice.

  But he wanted her, not Virgil. “Andrew, take me.”

  Andrew’s head jerked up. He stared around him, horror filling his face as if he saw something other than the clearing. His gaze finally came to her. “Demon, don’t speak to me. Demons don’t die. Cling to life.”

  “I don’t.” She took a step closer. “There’s nothing for me here. No one. You can kill me, and they’ll be sad for a minute and then move on.”

  “Your lover won’t.” His fist clenched, and the knife moved an infinitesimal amount.

  Her heart hammered frantically. “He left me.” Andrew’s muscles slackened as Kallie edged closer. “He won’t care—I wasn’t who he wanted.” The hurt of that must have entered her voice, for the knife moved, a half inch…an inch…from Virgil’s throat. “I don’t belong anywhere.” Just two steps out of Andrew’s reach, she dropped to her knees.

  “Dammit, Kallie,” Logan shouted, panic in his voice. She glanced at him. Too far away to help her, but when the monster attacked, Logan could save Virgil. Fair trade, her mind and heart said, though her hands shook, everything inside her shook, every nerve screamed, Run!

  Doubt showed in Andrew’s face. He glanced at Virgil, then at her.

  Almost, almost. Bowing her head was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  She saw the knife drop into the dirt, and jerked her eyes up as, in one move, he grabbed the club. As the weapon swung up, Kallie lifted her arms to cover her head, even knowing her bones would break like dry twigs.

  Something hit Andrew from the side, knocking him away. She felt the wind, the swish as the heavy branch whipped past her face. The shock—she was still braced for pain—stunned her. I’m alive?

  She stared at the struggling men and panicked. Nooo, not Jake. Her Jake against that monster? She scrambled to her feet, snatched up the knife, and—Logan grabbed her, dragging her across the clearing and away from the fighting. He locked his arm around her when she tried to get free.

  “Let me go!” She fought him, yelled at him. Logan’s hold didn’t loosen.

  She saw the club come up and swing down brutally, and she moaned, cringing in anticipation of seeing—Jake dodged, but the weapon hit his shoulder in a glancing blow. Jake stumbled back, and Andrew swung, and again Jake dodged. He stepped in quickly and punched Andrew hard in the face.

  Andrew staggered and recovered too quickly, forcing Jake to evade the backswing.

  “Fuck, Jake’s screwed. Secrist is madman strong.” Logan charged across the clearing as Andrew swung again.

  “No no no.” Kallie threw her knife.

  It hit Andrew in the back, too small to do any good, but Andrew screamed as if it had impaled him. His arms spread wide.

  Jake stepped in and kicked, his boot hitting the monster’s bloody leg. Andrew shrieked and stumbled forward.

  Jake ripped the heavy branch away. Holding it in two hands, he spun around like a discus thrower. One turn and then the club smashed into the monster’s head with a crunching sound that Kallie would never, ever forget.

  Andrew catapulted back with the complete flaccidness of the dead, even before he hit the ground.

  Chest heaving, Jake stood over him. Logan stepped beside him and set his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  Kallie stared at Jake. Alive. Blood streaked his face, gleaming wet and dark in the silvered light. His shirt gaped open from a long rip across the shoulder. When he moved, he limped. But he was all right. Thank you, thank you, God.

  After one last reassuring look, she dropped to her knees beside Virgil. Relief flooded through her as he groaned and struggled to a sitting position. He held one hand across his ribs. “What the hell did he hit me with?”

  “Something Goliath might carry,” she said, laughing—she thought she was laughing, but tears blurred her vision. “You asshole, he might have killed you.” She ripped a sleeve from her shirt and pressed the fabric against his neck. But the cut had almost stopped bleeding.

  Virgil touched his forehead and winced. “Good thing he didn’t get in a solid hit.” Then he grabbed her shoulder and shook her hard. “I heard you. What the hell were you thinking? He—” He choked and muffled the rest of his increasingly foul curses.

  He was definitely alive. Her vision blurred again as she smiled at him. A second later, she felt a soft touch on her head and looked up, but Jake had already moved away. He walked over to where his brother knelt in the grass.

  Logan glanced up. “Considering your lack of grace, that was a nice job of getting up close and behind him.”

  “He wasn’t paying attention to anything except his sacrifice.” Jake shot Kallie a furious look that made her wince, then bent down. “How is he?”

  A whine. Kallie’s heart clenched as Thor struggled to his feet. The yelps she’d heard…

  Logan ran his hands over the dog’s body. “Gonna be sore, but doesn’t feel like anything’s busted.” His voice roughened with anger. “Why the hell didn’t you shoot the bastard, Masterson? You drop your weapon or something?”

  “Or something. He threw your damned dog at me. That’s a fucking heavy dog, Hunt. He knocked me on my ass.” Virg snorted in disgust. “I should have shot through it. Couldn’t.”

  Silence. Logan’s hand paused on the dog’s fur, and then he sighed. “It’s hard to fault you for that. Thanks for not killing him.”

  “No problem.” Virg looked over toward Andrew’s body, and his mouth thinned. “Worked out. Good job there, Jake.”

  Jake grunted acknowledgement—why do men do that?—and glanced at Kallie. “I had help. Nice throw.”

  She stared at him and couldn’t think of a thing to answer, not with the memory of the club swinging for him.

  Jake knelt beside the dog. “Stupid beast. Learn to dodge better.” His arms around the whining dog belied the cold words. The wagging tale said Thor knew better than Kallie did how a man expressed his love.

  Hell, her eyes had blurred again. Had she gotten struck on the head?

  With a few more curses and still holding the ribs on his left side, Virgil struggled to his feet. “It’s going to hurt like hell to laugh for a few days,” he muttered. “You tell any jokes, little bit, and I’m going to thump you.”

  Yeah, he was all right. The surge of relief made her dizzy. “So, cuz, what did the prostitute say to the priest?”

  He barked a laugh and groaned, then pushed her over with his foot.

  Right onto her aching hip. Her yelp of pain sounded like Thor’s.

  Not a second later, Jake shoved her cousin to one side. “Bastard, she’s hurt,” he growled and knelt beside her. “Let’s see the damage, sugar.”

  With those words, the same words he’d used in the ClaimJumper so long, long ago, her defenses shredded, and a sob ripped out of her.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, and she knew—no matter how many other civilizations thrived out there among the stars—his embrace was the safest, warmest plac
e in the universe.

  Dammit. Jake had tried to stay away and let Virgil care for her. She trusted her cousin. Not Jake. Not anymore. He’d have to regain her trust somehow, but right now she didn’t need any more emotional upsets.

  He really had tried to stay away. But now, as she clung to him, he knew he’d break Virgil’s face before he let her go.

  “Is she…? Kallie, I didn’t mean…” Virgil bent and touched her shoulder. “Come here, little bit. Let me check you—”

  “She’s mine,” Jake snapped, then amended, “I mean, she’ll be all right.”

  A corner of Virgil’s mouth turned up. “Got it.” He straightened, hunted and found his pistol in the grass, then walked over to check Secrist’s body.

  Jake returned his attention to what was important in his world. “Shhh,” he murmured, her sobs hitting him harder than the cudgel had. He gathered her closer, so tiny and so brave. She’d terrified him, walking out of the forest to plant herself in front of a murderer twice her size. His little Toto, growling and never backing down. How could a man feel so much pride and fear all at once?

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he murmured and rested his cheek on top of her head.

  She cried a little longer, and then—all too soon, in his opinion—shut down her tears. Macho sprite. But she couldn’t stop the shivers racking her fragile bones.

  Virgil had kept an eye on Kallie, and when she sat up and wiped her face, he walked back across the clearing. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard her cry before,” he muttered to Jake, his face strained with more than pain.

  Jake understood completely. She needed to cry, but each sob had stabbed through him like a knife.

  Virgil offered Jake a hand. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll send a team up for the body.”

  The narrow trail demanded they walk single file, and silence reigned on the way down the mountain, except for the occasional curse when the bad footing jarred an injury. In an emotionless fog, Kallie marked that Jake swore less than the others, probably because of her presence. Virgil groaned more. Logan was the only uninjured one, she thought, until she realized he limped as badly as Jake.

  “Logan, how’d you get hurt?” she asked, her voice startling her.

  Logan glanced back at her and huffed a laugh. “In case you haven’t noticed, my brother has the grace of a hippopotamus on drugs. He tripped over a log right in front of me, and I piled into him. Wrenched my knee. Then we had to untangle, find the flashlights, and locate the trail again. It’s why we didn’t all get there together.”

  “Well, bro, if you hadn’t been trying to run up my ass, you’d have had time to stop.” As he’d done all the way down, Jake turned to help her over a log, and she took comfort from each time his warm hand closed over her cold one.

  A few minutes later, a couple of deputies rushing up the trail barreled into Virgil, and after some discussion, turned around and accompanied the group back down.

  By the time they reached the edge of the forest, Kallie felt as if she had five pounds of mud dragging down each boot. Jake put his arm around her, and she gratefully sagged against him.

  They stepped out into a world of flashing lights and noise. A short distance away, two officers blocked Wyatt and Morgan from the trail, and her cousins sounded ready to explode.

  Thor gave a sharp bark, attracting everyone’s attention, and within a second, far too many people converged on them. To Kallie’s relief, Virgil pulled his brothers and the cops off to one side, leaving her with Jake and Logan.

  Logan stopped in the center of the gravel yard, and Thor waited beside him, tail drooping in exhaustion. “You heading back now, Jake?”

  Stay here. Please. Kallie took a breath and released it slowly, then tried to move away. He should go. Don’t start this all over again.

  Jake tightened his arm around her. “Thanks, but no. I have a few problems to deal with here.”

  Logan’s gaze dropped to her, and after a moment, he glanced at Jake. “Understood. Call if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, bro.” Jake’s voice softened. “Seriously.”

  Logan lifted a hand. “Part of the brotherly job description.” He touched her hair gently. “Night, sugar.”

  “Good night, Logan,” Kallie managed. “Thank you.”

  She bent to stroke Thor’s soft fur and whisper, “Thank you, Thor.” He licked her cheek. Logan stopped to speak to Virgil briefly; then he and Thor climbed into his vehicle.

  As the sound of Logan’s truck faded, Virgil left the police and walked over. “You’re free to go, Jake, but you’ll need to come in to the station tomorrow to give a statement.”

  “I appreciate the reprieve, but I’m not leaving yet. I’ll help Kallie shower, and then—”

  Kallie’s mouth dropped open even as Virg’s brows lowered, and he said, “Not going to happen.”

  “Which one of you men will help her?” Jake glanced down at her. “I’ve seen her naked before, you know.”

  Kallie stiffened. “Jake, dammit.”

  Red stained Virgil’s face, and he ran his hand through his hair. “Hell. Fine.”

  “Afterward, I’d appreciate if you could get everyone into the living room.”

  “For what, exactly?” Virg asked sarcastically.

  “We’re going to discuss some misguided perceptions and sacrificial lambs.”

  Kallie had lost track of the conversation as she tried to keep her legs from buckling.

  Virgil said slowly, “I didn’t like that either. But”—he glanced over at the other cops—“later?”

  “Right now. At this time, we might be able to get through. Maybe. Not later.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Kallie asked, locking her knees.

  Virgil didn’t answer. He studied her for a second. “I can take some time if I make a quick report to the chief. I’ll leave clean clothes for you outside Kallie’s door, and we’ll see you downstairs.”

  “Good.” When Jake turned Kallie toward the house, she stumbled. With a huff of laughter, he scooped her into his arms. “You’re exhausted, sprite. Where’s your room?”

  You have to let him go. “I can get there myself.”

  “Nope.”

  As Jake hauled her across the yard, she saw Virgil intercept Wyatt and Morgan before they could get to her.

  Despite his limp, Jake carried her all the way up the stairs. After setting her on her feet, he flipped on the lights in her bedroom and looked around.

  She sighed. She’d left her new red underwear on the dark blue carpet, flannel shirts tossed over the desk chair, a stack of books beside the bed. In one corner, a table held her carving tools and projects…and shavings circled the area like snow. Martha Stewart would cringe. “Sorry about the mess.”

  “As long as the bed fits us both, I’m happy.”

  The thought of not being alone… She leaned her forehead against his chest. “Thank you. For staying.”

  He shook his head. “No thanks needed, but we definitely have some talking to do. For now, let’s clean up.”

  “I shower alone.” She caught the amusement in his eyes and glared at him.

  “Uh-uh, little sub,” he murmured. He pulled her against him, careful but firm. “Are you allowed to glare at your dom?”

  My dom? A curl of warmth eased the cold inside her. “You’re not my dom.”

  As if she hadn’t spoken, he brushed his lips across hers. “Shower, sprite,” he whispered.

  In her bathroom, he looked around slowly. “Nice.”

  “The guys remodeled it when I was fourteen.” She’d lived with them for only six months and had expected them to send her away at any time. But when her history class had gone on a three-day field trip, she’d returned to find it like this. Pale blue floral wallpaper, dark blue countertop, amazing lighting. A walk-in shower with delicate flowers decorating the tile. An oversize tub. A very feminine bathroom—they’d done it just for her. Like she was going to stay. When the four big men had beamed at h
er, she’d almost cried.

  Over the years, she’d changed very little. In this one place, she could believe she was a woman, not one of the boys.

  “It suits you, sweetheart,” Jake said and efficiently divested her of her dirty, bloody clothing.

  He opened the smoky glass shower door and turned on the water. Steam rose in the cool air. Jake stripped and stepped into the shower with her, never letting go of her arm.

  As the spray hit her, she sighed. So warm.