by Sharon Kay
The leader whirled and covered the distance to his man, who stood by a simple-looking wooden chest. The lid was open.
Ria stood on her toes to try to see, but Kazo blocked her view. A Ghazsul next to her growled in warning. “Don’t move, female.”
She gritted her teeth. Stupid fucker. The only thing keeping her from slicing him into a pile of body parts was her fear for Gin.
Kazo breathed an audible hiss of appreciation and he lifted something from the chest. “Yes,” he murmured reverently. “Mine.” He turned around.
Ria’s jaw dropped. Oh my gods.
Kazo held the long heavy blade, which was unlike any she’d ever seen. Shocked wonder barreled through her at seeing the Atropa sword with her own eyes, after only seeing drawings and hearing the stories.
It was a work of deadly art, with its carved hilt and tapering blade. A soft green glow radiated from it, indicating the darkest magic.
As she stared, the metal seemed to brighten and shine…then she realized it was coating itself with liquid.
Nightshade poison. Holy shit.
That could only mean…Her eyes shot to Kazo’s.
He was Verdak’s kin.
“Feast your eyes, female,” Kazo, crooned. “The legends are true. Impressive, no?”
Ria could only nod, because he was right. She couldn’t imagine a more beautiful, perfect, and dangerous weapon.
Kazo held it high and took a few swings through the air, moving with ease. “Like it was made for me,” he crooned. “Thank you, Verdak. Your own blood now holds your prized blade. I’ll never let it go.”
Ria raised her eyebrows. Talking to a dead ancestor? Kazo was as crazy as Verdak was rumored to be. Crazy added to the element of danger, just because it was so unpredictable. She watched him, plotting her next move.
He looked at her as if reading her mind. “I’ve always wanted to see how this works.” Evil glinted in his eyes as he stalked toward Ria. “To see exactly how a body reacts to nightshade introduced directly into the bloodstream.” He glanced from Gin to Ria. “You and your little friend killed eight of my loyal fighters. Eight!” he stood two feet from her, easily in reach of the sword. “I want payback.”
Oh shit. Ria’s gaze shot to Gin in time to see her slump to the floor. “No!” Ria yelled. “Gin! Hang on! Fight it!”
Cold fear tore through Ria’s chest. No, no, no. Gin lay on her side, the arrow protruding up toward the ceiling. The four Ghazsuls still surrounded her, as if she would somehow jump up and take them all out.
Kazo stepped toward Ria. “Venom too much for your friend? Then I can’t imagine how her fragile body would tolerate nightshade.”
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Ria snarled.
“Two female lives mean nothing to me.” Kazo extended the sword toward her, point first. He held it just under her chin. “I guess you’ll be the one to show me the full extent of my new sword.”
One drop slid off the edge of the blade. Ria swallowed, debating whether a spin would work. This blade was longer than any of hers. Could she get close enough to knock it out of his hands?
But she had the same dilemma of the dripping, deadly liquid. And Gin would take the retaliation…No. Goddamn it. She wouldn’t risk her friend’s, her sister-in-law’s, life.
“Show me your hands,” Kazo barked.
What the hell? Ria frowned, but extended her hands in front of her.
Kazo grabbed one arm with his free hand. “Ahhh. My warrior did get his claws into you before you played your little trump card. But see? They’re not completely healed yet.”
Ria followed his gaze to the ten punctures left from the claws of the guard who’d restrained her. The two smallest ones had healed already, but the rest were still raw. Open. Her blood, exposed.
“Let’s try an experiment.” Kazo’s voice dripped with evil intent. He raised the sword.
Ria shrank back and dropped her arms, only to find a sharp point at her spine. “Don’t move, bitch.” One of the guards hissed. “Or we’ll light you up with venom.”
“Not so fast,” Kazo admonished the male. “Female. Hold out your arms!”
Ria slowly raised her arms.
Kazo took her hands and turned them palm up. Her puncture wounds formed semi circles at her wrists. Her heart hammered. What the fuck was he doing?
Kazo held the sword above her forearms and tilted the blade edge down. Ria could only watch in horror, frozen to the spot with fear for Gin, fear that this all was about to get very, very bad.
Drops of nightshade slid to the sharply beveled side. Ria braced herself. Like tiny silent bombs, the droplets held on for a split second before falling to the bare skin just below her elbows.
And…there they sat. A dozen clear bubbles of poison quivered gently on each arm as Ria fought to remain utterly still even as her heart raced. Would the lethal liquid eat at her skin?
“Hmm. Good to know.” Kazo lowered the sword. “If the flesh is unbroken, it appears unaffected by deadly nightshade.” A malicious grin widened his thin lips. “But, my dear…settle in and get used to standing. Just. Like. This.”
Ria narrowed her eyes as understanding dawned. Mother fucker! She couldn’t lower her arms. If she did, the poison would roll down into her wounds. There were too many drops to shake off completely or hope they’d slide to the side. The nightshade would infiltrate her blood. Even one drop would mean excruciating, but swift and inevitable, death.
Thoughts of Arawn popped into her mind. No! I’m not ready to go! He needs me. She’d survived a month-long coma only to die like this? Gods, no. She needed to tell him how she felt. I need him. I…love him.
She sucked in a breath. I love him.
“Ahh, I see you’ve realized your situation.” Kazo chuckled, misreading her face. “That should keep you out of trouble while we see if there’s anything else here worth taking. Besides you and your friend, of course. Though, she doesn’t look well. We may just have you for company back at home.”
Ria went numb with hopelessness. What have I done? She watched the Ghazsuls ransack the rest of the room, crowing over weapons and gold.
A thread of crazy, stubborn hope wound through her heart. She gave a tiny shake of her head. What were all these insane feelings she kept getting? Was she going crazy? Gin lay dying. Ria’s arms balanced enough poison to kill two dozen males. They were alone, imprisoned—
She jerked with a massive blast of anger. At the same time, warmth pulsed in her body, a reassurance. What the hell? She had to be going crazy.
Shouts echoed from the stairway as fighting broke out. Huh? The clang of metal and thud of bodies mixed with the sizzle of venom on flesh.
Then a roar of raw, unrestrained fury shook the room.
C
HAPTER 29
RAGE CLOUDED ARAWN’S VISION. EVERY cell in his body vibrated with wild vengeance as he stalked closer to Ria.
She stood among four armed Ghazsuls. Their weapons dripped with what had to be Viper venom. And why was she standing like that? Her arms stuck straight out in front of her.
A huge Ghazsul stepped into his path. Broken teeth poked through a wide, sadistic grin. And he held…holy fucking shit.
The Atropa sword.
“Looking for something, are you?” the sword holder asked. “Something you want for yourself, because you know you have the power to use it?”
The sword gleamed with soft green light. Liquid seeped down its length. But Arawn’s hand tingled fiercely, burning to hold it.
No! What the fuck was wrong with him? Ria. “Fucking let her go! Your fight is with me!”
“It is indeed. And you can’t win.”
Ria’s blue eyes locked with his and the mix of emotions they held slayed him. Fear. Relief. And…hopelessness. She was terrified. But even through the still-forming bond, he could tell it wasn’t all directed at herself.
He looked across the room to see Mathias and Brenin fighting another group of Ghazsuls. The Hunter moved
like a male possessed, roaring with a fury he rarely let out. In a second, Arawn saw why.
Gin lay on the floor, pale as death and with an arrow in her chest. Fuck! Mathias gathered her into his arms, opened a portal, and left without a word or glance to his team.
A shaky breath escaped Ria and Arawn turned to see one tear trickle down her cheek. “They hit her with venom,” she whispered.
Gods above, he hoped Ashina could save the female. Brenin and the others kept fighting, taking down one enemy after another in rapid succession.
Arawn took a closer look at Ria, still wondering why the fuck she was standing like that. Her slender wrists were marred with a series of punctures and if he had to guess, he’d say it was Ghazsul claws. Did they hurt? They should be healing, since they weren’t deep.
Wait. Electric rage heated his blood as he studied the dozens of clear liquid dots that balanced precariously on her skin. No fucking way.
He looked at her ocean-blue eyes again, and she flicked a glance to the sword.
Holy. Shit. If she moved…
His eyes narrowed on the leader with the absolute desire to kill, to maim, to cause one person so much pain they’d beg him to end it. “You sick mother fucker!” he bellowed at the big demon.
“Me? No, Arawn. You’ve already lost one warrior over this selfish desire of yours,” the Ghazsul said. “Looks like you’re going to add to the tally today.”
“No,” Arawn snarled. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.” Across the room, he met Brenin’s eyes.
They trained for this shit. Knew what to do when fighting in close quarters, with their members held at sword point. His teams had already killed the four guards who’d surrounded Gin, and the three that had been ransacking the place. They had numbers on their side now, but the poison sitting inches from Ria’s cuts made the situation delicate.
Arawn lowered his chin a fraction, cueing Brenin and his team. With perfect precision, four blades flew across the dingy space toward the guards around Ria.
They yelled and ducked, charging the Watchers.
Another blade struck the leader. He roared in fury and whirled, brandishing the dripping sword and diving into the fray.
Arawn stripped off his T-shirt and was at Ria’s side in a heartbeat, wiping the poison from her arms. “Fuck, baby. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Me too.” She melted into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Her sweetness infused his soul, tempering the rage at the danger she’d been in, and he took one selfish second to savor her body against his. But alarm zipped through the bond and she tensed.
The big Ghazsul. Arawn knew without a word. Knew there was only one way this would be settled.
He turned to see the male bearing down on him, sword held high. Go time.
With fury powering his feet, he ducked and barreled into the leader, tackling him around the waist and pushing him back. The Ghazsul was heavy, nearly as big and tall as Arawn. He stumbled but didn’t fall, trying to move the sword between their bodies. Arawn straightened and swung his fist, slamming his jaw with a satisfying crack.
He grabbed his favorite dagger next, an elven-steel blade with a curve at the tip and an extra point one inch above the end. It hurt going in, and even more coming out. He dug it into the Ghazsul’s belly with an uppercut, piercing dirty clothing and meeting soft flesh.
The demon fell and the sword clattered to the floor. The green glow faded but still, Arawn itched to hold it. Pushing the thought away, he called up a ball of demonfire.
Faster than Arawn’d anticipated, the demon sprang to his feet and charged. They both tumbled back onto a table piled with boxes. The thing collapsed under their combined weight.
Slam! The Ghazsul’s fists pummeled his nose. Arawn grunted and rolled them both across broken boards and crates. Jagged wood and splinters cut into his chest, but they barely registered. Fists flying, he pounded into the male. Blood splashed his chest, but the image of Ria with nightshade poison on her perfect skin burned in his head.
Agony lit up his side, and he looked down to see a dagger lodged near his kidney. The telltale sting of venom singed his skin. “Motherfuck—”
The Ghazsul used his one second of distraction to lock his gnarled hands around Arawn’s throat. Yellow eyes gleamed in delight as he squeezed tighter. Arawn grabbed the demon’s wrists and twisted sharply.
It howled in pain and its left hand hung limp. Arawn leaped off it, ready to call up more fire, when he felt Ria’s touch at his elbow.
“Use this. It may still have some active poison. He deserves it.”
He dropped his attention to her hands, and his heart plummeted like lead.
With a careful grip, she held out the Atropa sword.
Its blade was silver now, not green and not glistening. Arawn stared, transfixed. Prickles raced up his sword arm, encouraging him to take what was part of his ancestry. His hand lifted. “I…”
“What, Arawn? Afraid to take what’s yours? Or doesn’t she know your little secret?” the Ghazsul taunted, getting to his feet.
“Shut the fuck up,” Arawn growled.
Ria still held the sword, confusion knitting her brows together. “Yours?”
“Yes, female. Did you know your leader is full of secrets and lies?” The demon grinned, maniacally.
Around them, Watchers gathered in a loose semi-circle. Arawn could tell from the quiet in the room that all the other Ghazsuls had been eliminated.
“I said shut up!” Arawn roared.
“What are you going to do about it? Everyone is wondering why you don’t pick up the sword and kill me.” He looked at the group of Arawn’s loyal soldiers. “Aren’t you, now? Aren’t you curious? Ask him.”
Ria shook her head. “I’m tired of listening to this bullshit. He kept up a steady stream of it before you got here.” She hefted the sword, slender fingers wrapped around the hilt. Around Verdak’s blood. Her body readied for a deadly thrust—
“No.” Arawn’s pulse thundered in his veins. This was his responsibility, his family shame. He’d been delaying telling her, but this was the end of the line. He couldn’t hide it from her any longer, and fuck it, he didn’t want to. If they were to be mates, she needed to know everything about him.
It was time to stop hiding.
“Give it to me.” His voice was low and hollow as the possible withdrawal of her affection leered in his mind. The gifts of her openness, her loyalty, her bright smile wavered like an aura of light around her, one that he may never look on again. But they could have no more barriers. I love her. His heart pounded against his ribs and he held out his hand.
She quirked her eyebrows, but offered it to him.
Arawn took the sword and a jolt of energy zipped up his arm. His fingers clenched tightly around the engraved, embedded capsule of Ghazsul blood, and a sense of ownership rushed over him.
Ria’s sharp intake of breath drew his eyes to her beautiful face, frozen in shock as she stared at the blade. Confused murmurs among his fighters buzzed low in his ears.
The blade once again glowed with sickly green light. Liquid seeped down its length, intensifying the gleam of dark magic.
“How…?” Ria blinked at him, frowning like she couldn’t process what she saw.
“Yes, Arawn, tell her how it is that you are doing what I just did!” the Ghazsul cackled. “I bet everyone in the room is dying to hear.”
Rage bubbled over. Whatever this sick fuck knew, he was talking too much. Better everyone hear it from Arawn and not this loser. “I told you to shut up.” He stalked closer. “What did you say before? That you have a problem following directions?”
The demon scowled. “At least I never lied to the people I lead! My followers always knew the truth of my lineage. They alw—”
His words dissolved into a gurgle as Arawn plunged the Atropa sword into the Ghazsul’s heart. Blood pooled in his mouth and overflowed, red liquid on red skin as it coursed down his chin. He
fell to the floor, body contorted in a seizure as the poison shredded his nervous system. He cried out but his words were unintelligible and slurred. Clutching his chest, he wheezed and twitched.
Arawn looked at the mix of blood and poison on the sword. The feeling of ownership that came with holding the weapon faded, dwarfed by the hollowness of losing Ria. He met her hurt gaze.
“You’re…related to Verdak?” Disbelief colored her voice.
“Yes. My grandmother was seduced by one of his descendants.” He lowered the sword as the demon on the floor stopped breathing. “I’m one quarter Ghazsul.”
Blue eyes bored into him as if he’d spoken Earth Latin. “But you look like the rest of us.”
“I know. That’s how I kept it quiet.”
She reached for the sword. “Give it to me.”
He handed it to her, and the blade instantly dried and returned to a silver hue. Her fist circled the hilt as she flicked a glance from the weapon to him. “You wanted this for yourself?” she asked. “That’s why we’ve been running around, chasing clues?” Hurt tinged her voice.
“It was either we get it in our possession or they did,” he growled. “Look at him.” He kicked the dead Ghazsul. “They could make anyone die like that. With just a glancing blow, not even with a fatal stab.”
She stared at him for a long moment. He ached to pull her into his arms, but what he felt most strongly from her was a wave of disbelief.
A throat cleared behind him. Arawn turned to the two teams of loyal soldiers that had destroyed the remaining Ghazsuls. For the first time, a rush of uncertainty hit him. He had just revealed the blood of the enemy in his veins. Would they still fight with him?
Brenin pierced him with a steely gaze. “Blood isn’t everything, Boss. You’re the best commander I know. I don’t give a shit if you can make that thing spit poison or do cartwheels.” He nodded at the sword. “You will always have my loyalty.” He dropped to one knee, bowing his head and laying his own blade down in front of him.
Gratitude like Arawn had never felt pulsed in his heart as, one by one, every Watcher in the room repeated the action.
