Unbound

by Лори Девоти

  “You don’t.” He picked up the carving knife, whacked the leg off a roasted duck and felt her pull back.

  Damn, this nonintimidating thing was hard.

  Kara jumped at the sound of the knife chopping through bone and sinew.

  Not exactly a man of culture, her host. Eyeing him nervously, she folded the bread in half, making a little sandwich, and nibbled at the corner. This whole situation was just weird — the dogs last night, his eyes today, being here at all for that matter. For a bit she’d truly thought he was going to rip her throat out — wasn’t completely sure still that he wouldn’t. But…she stole a glance in Risk’s direction…he hadn’t done anything obviously aggressive since he’d started layering the table with plates. A little disturbing perhaps, what with the knife, talk of prey and such, but he hadn’t actually threatened her and she hadn’t seen any sign of glowing eyes.

  Both good things.

  Her common sense told her to take advantage of his slight mellowing by beating a fast exit out the door, but he had promised to find Kelly, and despite her fear of him, or perhaps because of it, Kara believed he could.

  “Where do we start?” she asked, forcing the bite of sandwich down her dry throat.

  “You tell me. How did she disappear?”

  Trying to ignore the fact that he still held the gleaming knife in one hand, Kara willed herself to relax, to remember. “Kelly is…different.” By most people’s standards this was an understatement, but he didn’t need all the details, surely. “She’s always believed things other people don’t.” She edged a glance at him to see how he was reacting. He drove the knife into a turkey carcass then gestured for her to continue.

  Suppressing a shiver, she said, “About six months ago, she started taking classes online, hanging out on bulletin boards, stuff like that. And she was going out, a lot, at night.”

  “She have a mate?” he asked.

  Kara paused for a second, thrown by his strange choice of words, then gave her head a slight shake. “No, Kelly isn’t much for dating — neither of us are.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.

  “I got the feeling she was…” Kara squeezed the bread in her hand until peanut butter squished out the sides. A brown glob dropped onto her lap.

  What to tell him? Swallowing, she made the decision. Might as well be the truth. He might even believe her. “Hunting. I think she was hunting something.”

  “And maybe she got caught instead?” He ran a finger along his lower lip. Kara’s eyes followed its path. “Your sister, you said she was different. How exactly?”

  Dropping her gaze before he could notice her interest, Kara used her finger to swipe the peanut butter off her leg. She had chosen her path, might as well stick with it now. “She’s, you know…new age-y. Incense. Little statues. Dead animal parts.” Grabbing a napkin, she wiped her finger clean, then glanced up. No expression, not even a glimmer of interest showed on his face. “Did she practice?” he asked.

  Kara frowned. “Practice what?”

  His only answer was a deep breath, as if calming himself.

  Afraid he was about to slip back into berserker mode, Kara hurried to continue. “Well, I guess you could say she practiced. Kelly is what you might call determined.”

  He arched one brow.

  “Like a terrier. Give her a challenge and she’ll put 120 percent into conquering it. She’s physical, too, you know? Hands-on? She’s a big believer in being able to take care of yourself. Studied some self-defense stuff — the same thing used by the Israeli Army. She took classes five days a week for a while. They were closed the other two.” And she’d tried talking Kara into taking the classes with her, over and over. Based on the last twenty-four hours, Kara was beginning to wish she had agreed.

  “A hunting warrior female. Your sister sounds interesting.” His hand wandered to the silver chain at his throat. “How about you? Do you practice?”

  Kara dropped the sandwich onto the wooden tabletop. “No.” The last came out a bit abruptly. Kara had always accepted that Kelly was the dedicated one — the one everyone admired. It had never bothered her before, but hearing the edge of respect in Risk’s voice when he spoke of her sister brought the truth home more clearly than ever before. She could never measure up — apparently, even a complete stranger who had never met Kelly could sense that.

  Uncomfortable with the topic, she changed it. “What about you?” she asked.

  “What about me?” He turned back to the plate in front of him.

  Kara hesitated again. Did she dare push her luck by questioning him, and what to ask first? His eyes, had they been her imagination? Too personal. Why would he help her? Didn’t want to put the idea not to in his head. Finally, she settled on a question. “How did I get here?”

  He barely glanced up. “I brought you.”

  His abruptness set her back for a second, but when he continued eating, she relaxed — a bit. “But how, and where are we?”

  “I carried you, and about eighty miles from the city. If you want to measure like that.”

  Eighty miles? All hope of an easy exit died. Then the other part of his answer registered. “How else would I measure, and how do you carry someone eighty miles?”

  He smiled, a sad somewhat self-mocking slant to his lips. “Oh, I’ve carried…”

  Kara waited for him to finish, but Risk’s attention appeared to have shifted. He froze, his eyes suddenly alert, and tilted his head slightly to the side.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Clapping his hands over his ears, he stumbled away from the table and began to crumple slowly toward the floor.

  Kara jumped up and ran around the table to kneel beside him. His hands gripped the chain at his neck with such force his knuckles turned white and Kara thought the metal might imbed itself into the back of his neck.

  A seizure, it had to be. Kara reached out to pry his fingers loose. He was going to hurt himself.

  He let go of the chain to push her hand away. “Jeep, in back. Take it…”

  What the hell was he talking about? She couldn’t leave him like this.

  “Is there a phone? I’ll call someone. Or medication, do you need something?”

  She placed her hand on his shoulder; he began to shimmer beneath her, just like the ginger dog the night before. She could feel her own hand begin to shimmer, too, an unsettling sensation as if her hand had fallen asleep and now was in the painful process of waking up.

  “No.” He pulled back his leg and, using one bare foot, shoved her across the oak floor away from him.

  Her head knocked against the cabinet with such force, she couldn’t be sure what she saw next actually happened. Just like with the dog, the air around him turned into waves, and with a growl, he disappeared.

  Kara stared blankly at the space where Risk had been. He was gone. Impossible. Rubbing the back of her head, she scrambled along the floor until she reached the spot where he had disappeared. She ran a trembling hand along the length of the wood. The floor radiated heat, like a stove burner that was just turned off seconds before.

  What would cause that?

  Curling her fingers into her palms, Kara willed herself to stay rational. Grown men did not just disappear. There had to be an explanation. She pressed her palm against the boards. They were still warm, though already cooler to touch. In a few more seconds even this sign of Risk’s disappearance would be gone.

  It wouldn’t change things, though. He was there, then he was gone. This couldn’t be explained away. She looked around. She was still in a cabin — a strange cabin — and Risk had been real. He had been there.

  The dog, now Risk. It was too much for her to comprehend. Kara slid onto the spot, letting the last fragments of heat seep into her.

  Strange things had happened around Kara all her life, but none so blatant as this. None that couldn’t be explained away somehow.

  But a full-grown man disappearing in front of her eyes, there were only tw
o possible explanations for that. Either Kara truly was insane, or there was something else going on here. Something that didn’t play by the rules of the world she knew.

  She wasn’t completely sure which she hoped was true.

  4

  Risk shimmered to solidity on Lusse’s plush carpet. Once he had pushed Kara away, he had given in to Lusse’s call. Ignoring her would only have made things worse. She or one of her minions might even have come looking for him, might have violated the only personal space allowed him, and worse, found Kara.

  The thought startled him. He gripped the wool pile with curled fingers.

  He couldn’t care about the little witch.

  Even with the streak of humanity Lusse claimed he had, Risk didn’t care about anyone — not even himself. Yes, he wanted to be free of Lusse, but only to cause Lusse pain. To loll in the knowledge that she had lost what she valued most — power. Even if it was just the power to torment and torture him, it would gnaw at Lusse, and Risk would savor every gratifying moment.

  No, he didn’t care about the witch, he told himself, relaxing his fingers. He was only concerned Lusse would find her before Risk tracked down her twin and convinced them to assist him. Until then, he had to protect her, that was all.

  The hollow sound of Lusse’s horn landing on marble broke through his thoughts; then the pointed toe of Lusse’s diamond-encrusted shoe slid into view. “Ah, my favorite pet has arrived.”

  Eyes focused on the white rug, Risk gritted his teeth at the term. As a child, he had made the mistake of letting Lusse know when something she said or did angered him. Not anymore. Better to endure in silence, pretend pleasure even, than give the sadistic witch the joy of seeing him suffer.

  “What is that you’re wearing?” Her hand hovered over the flannel shirt on his back, the energy crackling from her hand signaling her displeasure. “Remove it.”

  Steeling his mind to hide his annoyance, he leaned back on his heels and reached for the buttons. “A shirt,” he replied, forcing his lips into a false smile.

  “I detest it. Remove it. Immediately.” She spun, the skirt of her silk dress slapping against her legs as she strode to her chair. Once seated, she waited, her fingers caressing the velvet armrests.

  His chest now bare, the icy air of Lusse’s home assaulted Risk’s skin, causing a shiver he barely contained.

  “Cold?” she asked, one brow arched.

  “Never around you, Lusse,” he answered with indifference. Risk knew she would prefer a term more suiting her proprietary position, but it was a deference Risk had never afforded her. He didn’t intend to start now.

  “So, pet, where have you been?” The question was casual, her tone almost a purr, but Risk knew better than to answer lightly.

  “Serving you, as always.” He kept his gaze steady to hide his lie.

  “Really? Have you?” She stood, pausing to pluck one of her toys, a gem-covered glove, from a table, then wandered past him to stand under the silver manacles that dangled from her ceiling.

  “I must admit I wondered. Just a tad, you understand.” She brushed her foot along the marble tiles that covered the floor under the shackles, then shook her head. “My, Bader is slipping. He seems to have missed a spot.” Her shoe darted out to point at the bright red gleam of fresh blood on the white marble.

  Risk cocked one brow in feigned interest.

  “It took you so long, and with no word. I found myself bored.” With a whoosh of her arm, she appeared beside him. Grasping his chin until her long nails dug into his skin, she pulled his face up so he had no choice but to look at her. “You know what I do when I’m bored, don’t you?”

  Risk stared evenly into her stormy-sea-colored eyes, not having to pretend the disinterest he felt. “Yes, Lusse, I do.”

  “What, no contrition? No apology? No ‘I’ll do better, Lusse’?” Her thumb slipped over his lower lip, the pressure as slight as a butterfly landing on a petal. “I worry about you so, and you have nothing for me?” she whispered, tugging on one glove. “And, worst of all…” She pulled back her hand, stared at him for a second, her eyes gleaming, then in a streak of sparkling jewels, struck him across the face. “No witch.”

  The diamonds sliced into Risk’s face; the pain of a thousand icicles piercing his skin soon followed.

  How nice, Lusse had added a little extra treat to this particular toy of hers. Was this how she cured her boredom while he was gone, or were there more surprises in store?

  Still on his knees, Risk maintained his pose, ignoring the numbness creeping across his face, and the blood swelling from the cuts.

  “Have you failed me, alpha? Was all my attention and care over the past years for nothing?” She turned again, striding across the room. Her dress billowed in a cloud of purple silk as she lowered her body into her chair.

  “Where is my witch?” she asked.

  Risk stared ahead. Kara would do him little good if he were dead, but five hundred years of torture told him Lusse wouldn’t go that far, and if he was wrong…well, so be it.

  “I don’t have her,” he replied.

  “You did fail?” Her tone revealed disbelief.

  “There were issues…” Blood from his wounds trickled into his mouth as he spoke. He swallowed the salty liquid.

  “Hellhounds don’t have issues. Hellhounds do as they are told. Isn’t that right, Risk?”

  “Of course.” Paralysis overtook the corner of his mouth, a blessing since it made it impossible to fulfill the urge to bare his teeth in a snarl.

  “Do you know where you got your name, Risk?” she asked, her gloved fingers tapping the padded armrest.

  “From you, Lusse,” he answered.

  “Yes, that’s right, but do you know why I gave you such a name?”

  “No, Lusse,” he mumbled, half his face now immobilized by her blow.

  “When I bought you…your parents were quite happy to be rid of you, you know, one less mouth to feed and all that, plus the honor of being chosen by me, I barely paid them half your worth…” she chuckled as if exchanging warm childhood memories “…I picked you from your brothers and sisters because even as a boy you stood out. The others wanted to please, as much as any of your sort does anyway, but not you. No toy could tempt you and no threat could break you. I was intrigued, and I knew you had the potential to be unstoppable, if I could train you. It was a risk, but one I thought I could manage. And if I couldn’t, well, I’d be out a few gold coins and some time.”

  The numbness in Risk’s face shifted and changed into a shooting coldness, like a frigid sword boring down the length of his spine. Tightening his shoulders, he withstood the torment.

  “So, tell me. Did I name you well? Were you worth the risk?” Lusse clenched and unclenched her fist, watching as the light caught the gems on her glove and split into a million tiny rainbows.

  “Of course, Lusse.” Risk’s words came out so garbled, even he couldn’t decipher them.

  “So…” She looked up from the glove. “Where is she? Where is my witch?”

  Whatever the magic in Lusse’s blow, it continued to grow, gathering speed as time progressed. Pain shot from Risk’s back to his thighs to his stomach, like an icy comet bouncing around inside him. Gritting his teeth, Risk blocked out the pain.

  What to tell Lusse — too little and she would know he was lying. Too much and she might realize his plans.

  “Safe,” he mumbled.

  “Safe?” A flicker of interest lit Lusse’s eyes. “From what?”

  “There was a—” Pain sliced through Risk’s head, cutting off his speech.

  “There was a what?” Lusse demanded.

  “A…” Risk sucked in air through his teeth, forcing his brain to overcome the glove’s magical poison and form the sentence. “Problem.”

  “Yes, yes, a problem. What else?” Lusse lowered both brows. “Talk.”

  Risk opened his mouth again, but this time only a guttural noise came out. Frosty wires wound around his lungs
, slowly cutting off his oxygen. He locked his body into an upright position and waited for Lusse’s spell to weave its final net.

  “Yggdrasil! Obstinate alpha.” Lusse jerked the glove from her hand. Then, pulling a small vial from the folds of her skirt, strode toward him.

  If her spell hadn’t frozen him in place, he would have jerked backward, evaded her cure — just for the sheer pleasure of thwarting her. How it would have irked her to have killed him herself and without learning about the witch she’d sent him to retrieve. The thought made him smile inwardly, but unable to move, all he could manage was a slight sway sideways before warm liquid splashed onto his face.

  Within seconds his wounds changed from icy numbness to blazing fire then simmered to a dull, throbbing ache.

  As the potion followed the course of the poison, the pressure on Risk’s lungs lessened, making it easier to breathe, but refusing the need to gulp air, he kept his posture steady and his breaths controlled. With silent effort he stamped down the last remnants of pain.

  Lusse stood a few feet away, eyes assessing, her toe tapping, and the empty vial dangling from two fingers. “Bader,” she snapped. “Bring in the whelp.”

  So, Lusse was ready to end her game. What treat did she have planned for him now? Whatever her ploy, Risk was grateful for the delay; it gave him a few more seconds to compose his answer regarding Kara.

  “Bader,” Lusse repeated, her voice cutting through the room like an arctic wind.

  The double doors leading to the hall crept open on silent hinges, followed by Lusse’s ancient servant, Bader, his polished dress shoes barely leaving the floor as he inched along. In his hand was a silver box; following close behind was a young redheaded hellhound in human form. The youth, the hound who’d invaded Risk’s territory, Risk guessed, walked steadily behind the servant. A strand of energy crackled from Bader’s tiny box tugging the younger male forward as it connected with the chain around his neck. Despite that insult and the numerous wounds that decorated his body, the youth kept his posture stiff, his eyes focused forward.

  “See, it’s as I told you.” Lusse directed her question to the boy, her outstretched arm gesturing to Risk. “Your father knows his proper place.” Raising her hand, she signaled Bader to bring the other male forward.