He shoved me back hard, slammed the door, and locked it. “I don’t want anyone to disturb our reunion. So much to catch up on.”
Terror burrowed down my throat to my stomach like a mole, settling into my gut. So it had been him in the parking lot at the pub when we first came out. He must have followed us back here.
“What do you want?” I had to stall to gather my thoughts.
“Oh, pet. It’s more what I don’t want.” He staggered forward. “Like you breathing anymore. I’ve been following you for weeks, waiting for one moment to be alone with you.” His foul breath sputtered into my face. “But let’s cut the chitchat, and I’ll get straight to killing you.” He kept the gun on my head, but with his other hand he tugged out a knife.
A long, sharp knife.
“If you kill me, you won’t get the stone. Isn’t that what you want?”
“I want to painfully rip the flesh from your skin. To watch you suffer as I have.” His mouth bared in a chilling grin, displaying yellow teeth. “How beautiful would it be for the Wanderer to return and find his beloved in tiny little pieces?”
“Not sure beautiful is the phrase I’d use.” I licked my lips, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. Please jump. Please for once just work. Apparently my magic was giving me a big “screw you,” being a stubborn child, not wanting to do what it was told.
“If you yell, scream, cry, or move an inch, I will carve into your face like you were going to do to mine,” he snarled. “Then I will shoot you in the stomach, causing a slow and painful death. And if you were wondering, fae bullets are in here, pet.”
I kept my hands up, trying to casually look around the room. Was there anything I could use to defend myself?
“After your boyfriend finds you in chunks, it will be his turn.” Arlo licked his lips, smacking them excitedly. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”
“Did we hurt your feelings that much?”
“Shut up, bitch.” He slammed the gun into my head, throwing me back on the bed. He quickly climbed over me, pushing me down. “I will enjoy this so much.”
“Good, I’d hate for you to come all this way for nothing.” I struggled to keep my voice from wobbling, fear clawing at my facade. The weight of his body on mine, the feeling of being helpless, stabbed at the deep-seated nightmares I kept locked away.
“You should have killed me,” he screeched, tiny bits of saliva sprayed out. “You and the Wanderer took everything from me.”
Ryker was right. A fae would rather be dead than embarrassed or affronted.
“I’ve lost respect, my men, my business.” His eyes darted crazily as if he’d been lost in the wild far too long. “You took it from me. A stupid human girl. They laugh when I walk in a room.”
My stomach flipped. I was as good as dead.
His legs cinched around my hips as he kept the gun to my head and slowly traced the blade of the knife down my throat. Then he pressed in, slicing little cuts into my skin.
Pain built behind my eyelids, but I pressed my lips together, trying to barricade a cry from breaking out. He cut in deeper. A tear leaked out the side of my eye.
He sat back, grabbing my shirt, his knife sliced through the fabric, exposing my chest. The scared little girl I confined to the depths of my being began to shriek, fear wrenching her loose. My body reacted, wiggling against his hold.
“I don’t think so.” He rammed the pistol into my forehead, indenting my skin. “I am going to do what you did to me. You fucked me in the ass…it’s only fair, bitch.”
My lungs halted, icy hot waves of terror flushed logic, my system going into sheer panic. Screaming, I crawled and bit at him.
“Stop it, bitch!” He slammed the butt of the gun into my temple. “The more you fight, the deeper I cut!”
His blade traced between my breasts. Arlo smirked, licking his lips, before he dragged the blade across my chest, leaving a deep trench through my breastbone. My lips drove apart, cries tore from my throat, my eyes leaking with pain, fear, and anger. Blood oozed from the cuts, trickling down my sides to the comforter. The violence and the control he had over me excited him. I could feel his arousal as he ground into me. He lifted off me just enough to flip me over on my stomach, one hand tugging at my jeans. With the other hand he shoved the gun into the back of my neck, pushing my face into the blankets. The horrors of his declaration came to life.
No…not again.
“Oh yeah. I’m going to enjoy this.”
My past roared in like a bull, snorting and knocking everything, colliding straight into my anger. I would not let this disgusting piece of garbage make me that girl again. Old nightmares filled my chest, images of my eleven-year-old self at the mercy of… A growl deep and raw emerged from my gut. I bucked back when I felt him slide my pants over my ass.
Nooooooo!
Air hissed in my ear, and suddenly I was across the room, standing up facing the sink. The mirror in front of me showed a girl with a shirt ripped open, blood trailing down her exposed torso, anger entrenched on her features, and her eyes bright with hate and revenge.
It also displayed the man right behind her. Arlo’s startled expression reflected in the glass over my shoulder. His moment of hesitation was all I needed. I slammed my elbows into his gut, causing him to stumble back. I twisted around and ploughed into him, taking us both to the ground with a thud. The gun slid out of his grip and skidded toward the door. We both scrambled for it.
He swung the knife at me, slashing a cut from my ribs to my hip. Blood poured from the wound onto the carpet and saturated my clothes. I felt nothing. My heartbeat thumped in my ears.
I punched out and struck him in the nose, which I had broken before. He grunted, red liquid gushing from it. I could not feel or think. My brain went primal, protecting the young girl who couldn’t defend herself back then, fighting against everyone who hurt or took advantage of her.
Ryker’s words came flooding back to me: He was a grown man, a repulsive human who took advantage of a young, innocent girl. He is the sick fuck. You are not to blame. It had been the night I told him of my darkest secret, of the abuse. For years I carried guilt that I had deserved it. Now I channeled that fury into my fists. I had been so angry at myself for so long. I felt weak, mad. I hadn’t stopped it. Let it happen to me.
I am not to blame.
I no longer saw Arlo, but the man who abused me.
Arlo’s abhorrence for me and mine for him painted the walls and floor red. Hate, blame, pain, isolation could turn you into the precise animal they claimed you were.
Knuckles cut across my face, a blade sliced my shoulder, but I continued to fight. Punching, clawing, and kicking, I completely lost myself in the violence, no longer a girl, but a wounded animal seeking release from all the pain.
The sound of a gun blasted through the room, wrenching us apart. Consciousness slammed back in, and I sucked in the air I had forgotten to breathe. I blinked and opened my eyes to see Amara standing in the doorway, the lock broken, Arlo’s gun in her hand, the ground smoking.
“Get the fuck away from her.” Amara aimed the gun straight at Arlo. “Now!”
Arlo slowly got to his feet, holding up his hands, covered in blood. He limped toward Amara instead of away.
“Amara. Come on. You of all people wanted to get rid of this human. With her out of the way, you can have everything you ever wanted.” He struggled to talk, his face looking like minced meat. “Like Ryker. Take him back, Amara, steal him away from this human bitch.”
I wanted to run after him, but even the slightest movement sent pain slamming into the wound in my torso.
A smile edged at her mouth. “Steal Ryker?”
“Yes. Kill her and you will never have to deal with this wretched human again.”
“Hmmm.” Amara tilted her head as if she was considering it.
My lungs clenched, sadness prickled my eyes, but I held my head up. This was what she always wanted. “Go ahead.”
&nb
sp; Amara rolled her eyes. “You are so fucking righteous. It’s really annoying.”
Boom! The gun discharged, vibrating the room. I closed my eyes, and I waited to feel the bullet explode in my brain. Did you feel something like that, or did it just go dark? Instead, I felt a spray of liquid cover my face.
Thump.
My lids bolted open to see Arlo’s body fall to the floor, his head a mess of pulp. Okay. Wow.
“We’re definitely going to have to change rooms now. Blood is really hard to clean. And brain matter is impossible to get out of carpet.”
My mouth gaped. “You shot him.”
“Clearly.” She looked over at me like I was crazy.
“But…but…”
“I may not like you, Zoey, but killing you will just make Ryker mope. He’s a bear when he’s sulking.” She turned to me, then snarled at the dead body on the floor. “And this asshole suggests I steal Ryker back? I only steal goods. I’m not pathetic. Ryker will come back to me. There’s a difference.”
“You saved my life.”
“Yeah, that was an unforeseeable event.” Amara moved to the table, setting the gun down.
“Zoey!” Ryker’s voice rang over the parking lot to the room, his boots hitting the pavement. He reached the doorway and stopped. Sprig looked frozen in shock, holding a doughnut halfway to his mouth. Ryker’s eyes scoured the room.
“Holy shit.” Ryker came to my side before I took another breath.
“Bhean?” Sprig jumped from Ryker’s shoulder onto the bed, looking overwhelmed and terrified by all the blood.
“I’m fine, buddy.”
“Your guts are coming out,” he said, then pointed down to Arlo. “And his brains are all over... oh my turtle puffs…his brain is all over my honey packets. That’s really not cool.” Sprig bent over, breathing deeply. “Oh, raven turds.” I counted three more seconds before he fell face-first into the comforter. Out cold.
“Poor guy.”
“Poor guy?” Ryker’s hands tore at my clothes trying to find the source of all the blood. “Fuck.” He peeled away my torn shirt. “You’ve been stabbed.”
I pushed myself against the dresser, taking slow breaths.
“Amara, can you get all the towels from the bathroom? And the bottle of scotch.”
“My scotch?” she whined, but stepped over me, padding through the blood with her bare feet. “Maybe I should have shot her.”
“Not funny,” Ryker snarled.
Amara swiped the bottle off the table and handed it over to Ryker.
“Drink this.” He placed it in my hands. I clutched the bottle, my fingers smearing bloody fingerprints over the glass, and downed a gulp of the liquor. It burned down my gullet.
Amara disappeared into the bathroom.
“Seriously, human, I leave you for five minutes...” Ryker tried to joke, but his expression looked tense. His jaw worked back and forth.
“Hey.” My stained fingers slid over his face and pulled up his chin to look at me. “I’m okay. I’ll live. I’m probably already healing.”
“Still need to stitch it up. It’s really deep.”
“Aww…” I giggled. “We’ll have matching scars.” I pointed to where I had stitched him up months before.
“I think you are in shock.” He pushed the bottle back to my lips, and I drank more. “Do you have any thread and needle?”
“In my bag.” I blinked, my lids suddenly heavy. I took another huge swallow. Ryker grabbed my bag off the table, tossing out my last pair of clean underwear, and finding the sewing kit in the side pocket.
My head started to spin. Along with the room. “I’m not feeling so great.”
Ryker made a noise, coming back to me.
“This is all I could find.” Amara came out holding a hand towel.
“It took you that long to get one?”
“The rest were dirty! You were the one who put the ‘no room service’ sign up.”
“Go to the front desk and get more.”
“I have blood all over my feet, and I’m only wearing a T-shirt.”
“Glamour him, Amara.” Ryker’s voice strained. “Now!” Ryker didn’t even try to hide his impatience.
“Fine.” She stomped past us to the door, then threw the cloth at Ryker. “Remember, I saved her life, so don’t get so testy with me. She’s fae now; she’ll survive.” Amara slammed the door behind her.
He growled, took the scotch from me, and soaked the towel in it. “This is going to sting.”
“Wow. This really is déjà vu.” I clenched my teeth as the alcohol hit my open wound, like fire that burned hot and cold at once. He cleaned around the gash. “But this feels a lot less sexy.”
“What happened?” He continued to clean, his eyes not meeting mine.
“You were right. Arlo wanted revenge.” I pushed out the words. Sleep yanked on my arm to follow it. “I was it.”
“Did he do anything? Did he hurt you?”
Ryker meant did he touch me, rape me. I let my lids drift close and a thin smile turned up my lips. “No. No one will ever hurt me like that again.”
“No. They won’t.” Ryker’s words soaked over me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
Sleep began to curl around me protectively.
“I’ve finally forgiven myself.” I felt my mouth move, a peacefulness slipping over me. “I was just a kid… It wasn’t my fault… I need to let go. To move on.” As I drifted off, all the pain I had possessed for so long finally released me.
NINETEEN
Gray light appeared through the curtains as I opened my eyes. I stared at the soft glow, my brain slow and groggy.
I stretched out my legs, pain tugging at my stomach and hip. In a flash everything from the previous night came back in jagged images, and I sat up with a jolt.
Scanning the room, I was aware I was alone. The faucet dripped a steady rhythmic ticking, like a clock. I looked down to see I wore Ryker’s extra shirt and my underwear but nothing else.
For the first time, anxiety filled me not because I was alone, but the room where I lay was completely different from where I passed out. The comforter and color scheme were dark and heavy, and there was no blood, no body, no signs of struggle at all.
My gaze landed on my bag sitting on the nightstand across from me. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet resting on an ugly patterned brown-and-maroon carpet. The room was laid out like every cheap motel, but this one still had the eighties-style design used to disguise the stains and age of the room. Dark colors swathed the flowery comforters and curtains. Heavy wood furniture lined the rectangular room, giving the space a cavelike feel.
I padded over to my bag. Every step strained the skin over my torso. The mirror above the desk reflected a sallow version of me. Like I had been drained of blood. Oh right, I had.
I lifted my shirt, my fingers following the ridges of the basic stitches across my side. Crusted blood still caked on my skin in places, but the wound looked spotless. Ryker did a decent job of sewing me back together. The white lines running from my neck to my breastbone were healing, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the marks, especially on my stomach, would leave permanent scars. Scars didn’t bother me. They were like a storyboard of my experiences.
The door to the room swung open, flooding it with light. My neck snapped to the door, adrenaline powering through me in a sickening lurch. Then eased the moment I saw him. Ryker paused, his huge figure filling the doorframe. His white eyes pinned me in place. His dark shirt and jeans hid the stains, but it didn’t conceal the stiffness of the dried blood left behind. He had a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hey.” My voice sounded quiet even to me.
He didn’t respond but stepped into the room, shutting the door.
“Where were you?” I suddenly felt shy. Energy slipped off the Viking, but I couldn’t make out what emotion lay behind it.
“Getting more clothes and supplies,” he said low, matching my volume. He placed
the bag down on the bed and pulled out items of clothing. “We burned everything you had on.”
“Burned?”
“Along with Arlo.” He kept his eyes off me. “Making sure he could never come back.”
“What? When did you do this?” I gaped.
“After I sewed you up, Amara and I tossed Arlo into the dumpster next to the room, set it on fire then the room. We wanted it to look like a dumpster fire that got out of control.”
My mouth opened then closed. I was void of emotion, even with the grotesque images of burning bodies rolling through my mind. The only thing I possibly felt was relief, and that scared me. Had I grown numb to such violence? It wasn’t that Arlo didn’t deserve to die, he did. But I felt I shouldn’t be so nonchalant about tossing a dead body in a dumpster.
“Where are we?”
“We’re near the stadium in the SoDo area. I knew if Arlo found us, others could.”
“Sprig and Amara?”
“Amara stayed outside watching the room until I got back. Then she took off. Needed to get out of here for a moment. And the furball…” Ryker tugged out a new hoodie from the bag. A tiny form curled up around his backpack, sound asleep. My feet instantly carried me over to him, needing to feel his soft fur between my fingers.
“I let him have four packets of honey, a doughnut, and two granola bars.”
I groaned mockingly. “You always give him whatever he wants, and I’m the one who has to deal with the aftermath.”
“Yep. I’m the nice parent. Deal with it.” He finally looked at me, our gazes connecting.
He watched me for a long time, lines forming around his eyes like he was in pain.
“What?” I asked breathlessly.
“I wasn’t there.”
Guilt. That was the sensation radiating off him like cologne. “It’s not your fault.”
His chest rose in indignation.
“Some things happen.” I realized the words were for me as well as him. “You can’t control everything. You deal and move on.”
He breathed in and out of his mouth, strong emotions building under the surface.
From Burning Ashes (Collector Series #4) Page 22
