Tired of watching the other warrior posture for the crowd, Guntram lowered his sword and grasped it with both hands, then ran for the other warrior, slicing toward his neck.
The bull-man met his advance with his own blade, pushed him away, and came back with a wicked chop toward his flanks.
Guntram spun away, agile as only a wolf could be, and lowered his head. “Wolves hunted bison and cattle. Do you really think you can best me?”
“You’re a tiny man,” the bull-man sneered. “Show me some fur and maybe I’ll shiver with fear.” He strode forward, raising his arm again and slicing toward Guntram’s head.
Guntram met the blow and felt the hard jangle all the way to his toes. “You’re powerful, but you’re slow.” Guntram lifted his upper lip in a snarl and shot out one foot, hooked it behind the other man’s knees, and shoved.
The bull grabbed Guntram’s shoulder and they both fell to the floor, their swords above their heads.
A meaty fist slammed into Guntram’s side, expelling air in a pained whoosh. They rolled, the bull getting on top of him, but Guntram dug a heel into the carpet beneath him and bucked, turning the bull. As soon as he rolled the beast to his back, Guntram rammed his knee between his legs and scrambled away.
The bull roared in agony, his hand closing around his groin. His large round eyes narrowed on Guntram as he came to his hands and knees and rose slowly.
Guntram allowed him the time, wanting to impress the queen with his lack of fear. Besides, he was growing more confident by the second, now that he was gaining the upper hand.
The bull was breathing heavily, his snorts deepening. He was growing angry and was likely embarrassed that he hadn’t already defeated his opponent.
Guntram felt a cooling calm wash over him. His focus narrowed again. Every movement, every breath of his opponent was noted while his mind raced ahead to figure out how he would defeat him.
Guntram beat his fist against his chest and growled, letting his wolf’s voice rumble from deep inside his chest.
The bull snorted, and a deep roar precipitated another lunging attack at Guntram, but this time Guntram was prepared, stepping aside at the last minute and driving his sword into the back of the beast.
Xenos fell to his knees, his face turning to his queen.
Guntram read the lack of mercy in her cold features, placed a foot against the bull’s back and drew back his sword. There could be no mercy shown. He lifted his blade and swung it downward.
Blood sprayed in every direction, showering Guntram and the carpet beneath them. The bull’s neck was thick, but Guntram’s sharp blade, backed by the power of his rage, drove downward until the head tilted, severing, and dropped to the floor. Blood continued to spurt in pulses from the raw open wound. Guntram wiped his blade on the bull’s clothing and then turned to face the crowd, which had grown silent around him.
He didn’t spare a single glance for any of them, lifting his gaze instead to the woman still standing on the sofa.
Her eyes were wide, her lips parted in shock.
“You will honor your promise to me?” he asked, his chest billowing with his ragged breaths.
Her lips closed. “You dare to ask me that?”
“I’m standing among demons and sinners. Why should I expect you to keep your word?”
“I’m not a demon. And I don’t lie.” Her gaze remained locked with his, but she raised her hand. “Take him away. Wolf, you will have to surrender your weapons.”
Guntram nodded, throwing down the sword, then bent to slide the knife from the top of his boot. He straightened and let the knife roll off his fingers to the floor.
Before it settled, hands grabbed his arms roughly and pulled them behind his back. A rope was tied around his wrists, and then he was shoved forward through the crowd.
“Make way, make way,” came the shout from the guard behind him.
Guntram didn’t take his gaze from the woman’s until the guard pushed him through the door of the stairway. Out of sight, the guard threaded his fingers through Guntram’s hair and slammed his head into the wall. “Give me no problems. I’d hate to have to tell her that you died trying to escape,” he whispered beside Guntram’s ear.
“I’ll cause you no trouble,” Guntram said quietly, promising to himself that the first chance he got, he’d kill the bastard.
Marduk dumped Gabriella on the bed and then strode away.
Although she wanted to hide her face in her hands and have a good, long cry, she kept her gaze on him, wiping her tears from her face with the back of a hand.
The Master was furious. He paced the room, his body bristling, fists clenched tightly. He didn’t once glance her way.
The door opened, and Xalia slipped into the room, her eyes wide. Her mouth opened to speak.
“Get out, Xalia. And don’t hover at the door,” Marduk said tightly.
“Yes, Bel,” she said, biting her lip and aiming a glare at Gabriella. She left as quietly as she’d come.
The candles they’d lit before they left burned low. The room was filled with murky shadows despite the bright moonlight that filtered through the curtains. Darkness loomed in the corners and painted Marduk’s features with an eerie, ominous cast.
A hiccup caught her by surprise, and she closed her mouth, determined to remain still and quiet so that she didn’t draw his attention while he worked through his anger.
Thoughts of what Guntram must be suffering wouldn’t leave her mind. She remembered the blood feast in the hall where she’d first arrived. It didn’t take much of a leap of imagination to know what must be happening. What had probably already occurred. For all she knew, he was dead, dismembered, his parts hacked away and carried off to be eaten.
A shudder shook her body, and she eased to the mattress, taking her gaze from Marduk at last to press her face into the bedding to muffle her sobs. For most of her life, Guntram had been her constant companion, her rock. Knowing he’d had her back gave her confidence, made her feel invincible.
After she’d been attacked in the forest during her first heat, she’d wandered packless, seducing men for the wealth they showered on her until she’d amassed a small fortune. Only then had she sought her own kind, building her own pack as a lone male wolf might, impressing males into her service with the promise of fortune and adventure.
They hadn’t been tied to territory; instead they’d roamed, offering their talents as warriors to whoever paid the most, human or Wolfen, until at last the clans in the region had taken notice. They’d enjoyed a unique position and were prized for their warriors’ skills as well as her abilities as a negotiator whenever troubles erupted among the many nations.
When the packs had dwindled in Europe, she’d made the decision to explore opportunities in the New World. Guntram had followed; so had most of the packmates he’d selected. They were loyal to her, but loved him. They’d all looked to him in times of trouble. His stoic presence had seemed immutable.
She’d never fooled herself into believing she alone was responsible for their success and esteemed position. Guntram had made it possible. His support had given her freedom, his presence held back the nightmares.
And what had she given him in return? Respect, yes. Autonomy, certainly. But at the end, she knew it wasn’t enough to repay him for all he’d done for her. She’d been selfish, so self-involved she’d ignored what she’d always known—that he hadn’t stayed because of duty or loyalty, but because he loved her.
The way he’d covered her in the cell, using all his knowledge of her needs was proof enough—that he’d sacrificed his life for hers cemented her belief.
He’d entered hell to rescue her, even knowing he’d likely fail. Her hand pressed against her belly, and she felt the quickening in her womb. She hadn’t wanted a mate, never craved cubs or a family because her own had betrayed her, but she couldn’t regret a single moment or the consequence of their mating. She’d cherish this child, keeping it first in her heart as she should have done
for its father.
Another sob ripped through her, but she didn’t care if the angry demon pacing the floor heard it. Her heart ached over Guntram’s loss. That he’d been her last hope to escape hardly seemed to matter anymore. What she wanted most wasn’t her freedom after all. She wished with all her heart she’d given Guntram the words she’d stubbornly refused. Pledged herself and her heart to her one true mate.
Her damnable pride had kept her from giving him that gift. Deep inside, she knew she wouldn’t have been lying, even a little bit, if she’d admitted that she loved him.
CHAPTER
16
Marduk heard her sobs, but wouldn’t be swayed by her woman’s emotions. She had a harsh lesson to learn, and better she learn it now than cause herself or another harm later. Still, the wrenching cries that shook her strong frame caused his own heart to bleed.
He’d wanted to touch life again, but he’d forgotten there could be such deep sorrow to balance the joys. For the first time, he considered her situation from her point of view.
How she must hate him now. He’d given no thought beyond the need to possess her when he’d divined her presence in the mirror. Hadn’t wondered for even a moment what sort of life she’d led, what he’d forced her to relinquish. Did she have family? A husband?
Her body betrayed no signs she’d ever delivered a child, but what did he really know about wolves? What had he robbed her of?
But if that were the case, wouldn’t she have pleaded on their behalf? All her begging had been for herself.
But who was the wolf in the dungeon to her? When he’d stalked into the cell and broken them apart he’d sensed something important had happened between the wolf pair. He had no doubt the wolf had meant to help her escape, but was he acting on love or duty?
Gabriella’s eyes when she’d gazed at the warrior had been free of challenge, softened by some deeply held emotion. Did she love him?
Marduk couldn’t imagine that was the case. Wolves were a loyal breed. If she’d been mated to him, cared for him, she’d never have given herself so easily.
Another jagged sob pulled him from his thoughts and he strode toward the bed. It had been forever since he’d tried to soothe a woman’s tears. Zara’s tears had been the last to move him. She’d wet his chest with them as she’d clung to his shoulders, unwilling to let him leave her.
He knelt on the mattress next to Gabriella and placed his hand on her shoulder, intending to turn her and offer his embrace.
But Gabriella jerked away from his touch, her wet face lifting, reddening as she drew back her lips and emitted a low, rumbling growl. “Don’t touch me.”
Marduk let his hand drop and narrowed his eyes. “You’re overwrought. But this will pass.”
“I won’t forget,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re responsible for his death. You murdered him. You tried to make me believe you inhabit this place but aren’t tainted by sin. That you’re better than those consigned here because of their misdeeds. But you’re worse. You wield you power to serve your appetite, regardless of anyone else’s desires. I want nothing from you. If you demand I stay in your chamber, you will have to rape me to ever have me again.”
Marduk froze, cut to the bone by the purpose in her expression. He believed her. Withdrawing from the bed, he turned away from the accusation in her gaze. “I’ll send Xalia to attend you.
“Keep your whore away from me.”
Marduk blew out a breath, growing annoyed with her stubborn refusal of his help. “Who was he to you?” he asked, although he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer.
The corners of her lips slid downward, and her face crumpled. “No one. It doesn’t matter anymore,” she whispered.
Frustrated because he didn’t know how to relieve her anger, he strode from the chamber, slamming the door behind him.
“Bel, what has happened?” Xalia said, falling into step beside him as he quickly descended the steps into the street.
“A wolf followed her here from the other realm. He found her. Now, he’s dead and she blames me.”
“Did you kill him then?”
“No, but I alerted Irkalla’s guard to his presence. I as good as murdered him myself.”
“And she doesn’t appreciate the depth of your feelings for her?”
Marduk’s gaze swung to the demon beside him. Of course, she’d see his murdering a rival as a sign of affection. He halted in his steps, realizing he had expected the same—after she’d gotten over her shock, of course.
Gods, he’d been here too long. Gabriella was right. He’d been here too long not to be tainted by the dark souls around him. And where was he going?
Glancing up the street, he knew his feet led him back to the palace, back to assure himself the wolf was no longer a rival for her affection. He closed his eyes, trying to remember how it once felt to be sure of his own moral superiority.
“Go back to my chamber,” he said to Xalia. “Make sure she stays inside. I don’t want her doing anything foolish.”
“Do you think she would destroy herself to join this wolf in death?” She sounded excited by the prospect, likely found it romantic.
“Xalia, go back. If anything happens to her, I will hold you responsible.”
Her breath caught, and she whirled and ran back toward the tower.
The guards at the palace didn’t stop him as he reentered and made his way down into the dungeon. Inside, the crowd had thinned. Guards with spears crossed to prevent entrance by the curious stood at the bottom of the steps.
Marduk received a solemn nod and was allowed to pass. Inside the chamber, slaves bustled through the crowd carrying the fallen warriors. The wolf had fought well, judging by the number of the queen’s soldiers being carried away.
Dagon drew beside him. “He’s still alive. The queen has had him taken to her chamber to interrogate him.”
“What happened to you?”
“The wolf and an accomplice waylaid me on my way here. I awoke with a headache and came here immediately. I’m not sure what their purpose was in assaulting me.”
Marduk remained silent about his own suspicions. “I have to get to Irkalla before she does something regrettable.”
Dagon’s smile was brief and ended in a wince. “Neck hurts.”
Marduk pushed past him and hurried to Irkalla’s chamber.
Inside, the usual crowd filled every available space.
Irkalla stood in the center of the room, facing the warrior. “Tell me how you came to be here, wolf,” she said, her tone imperious.
So, he was still alive. Marduk’s thoughts raced. If he could somehow save him from being made into a meal, perhaps Gabriella would be appeased. This could be used to his advantage. He strode toward Irkalla rather than pressing closer to the edge of the circle around the warrior.
Marduk eyed the warrior, knowing what Gabriella found attractive in this other man. His strong, sturdy frame radiated leashed power; his resolute stance betrayed no fear, although he had to know that his days, maybe even minutes, were numbered.
Too, he knew what the man found so attractive about Gabriella—besides the handsome features and glorious mane of hair. Her body was equally sturdy and strong, a good match for the warrior’s bulky frame. Her pride and fearlessness engendered an odd protectiveness in a man.
He’d never wanted to see her brought down, have proved to her that her fearlessness was based on nothing. She was a woman, thus vulnerable. For without her fierce pride, she’d be somehow … less.
Marduk had vague memories of the prideful woman he’d loved long ago. The human he’d craved to make his own. In the end, he’d had to abandon her, but selfishly, he’d left her with a curse, thinking that he’d be gone from this place and able to rejoin her in the future. He’d wanted her to live so that he might find her again.
Where she was now didn’t matter. He’d never see her again, having never found another worthy of the ring he wore, the seal Solomon had entrusted to him so lo
ng ago. Perhaps he was doomed by his immortality to reign as the Master of the Demons forever.
The wolf didn’t reply to the question, and Irkalla’s cheeks reddened. “You would deny me?” she said, her voice rising in disbelief.
Marduk stepped behind Irkalla. “Imagine that,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. “Someone who won’t bend to you.”
“He’ll bend,” she whispered harshly. “He’ll kneel if I have to cut him off at the knees.”
“And miss the chance to sample this one’s strength of will? Do you think he can resist a vampire’s lure?”
“No one can. Besides, he’s a wolf. A base creature. He’ll submit for food or lust.”
“I know you haven’t seen many here, mistress, but wolves are known for their fierce loyalty, their odd desire to stay true to a single mate. Since it appears he’s dared enter the Land to save my slave, I wonder if he loves her—and if it’s true that he can’t be aroused by another.”
“What are you saying, darling?” she said, her attention at last leaving the warrior and swinging his way. Her eyes were alight with a glimmer of excitement. “Do you think I should tempt him? What if he resists?”
“No one can resist you for long. And think how demoralizing it would be to him.”
“I could snack on him later?”
“Or keep him alive indefinitely as your own personal blood well. He’s not unattractive.”
Her gaze went back, and she licked her lips. “He’s handsome, if one admires someone as scarred and chiseled as he is.”
“A warrior who trains often. Who prepares for battle every day.”
“He’d be hard. Inflexible.” Her gaze swept his tall frame and Marduk decided not to press her in case she wondered about his interest.
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