by Elisa Adams
No. She wouldn’t let it end this way. She jabbed her knee into his balls. He screeched and flung himself off her, hunched over his knees in pain.
“Well, I guess that works on men of all species.” Without letting herself think about her next course of action, she came up behind him and grabbed his head. Her stomach churned, bile rose in her throat. Don’t think about it. He isn’t human. If you kill him, it doesn’t count. She grunted, twisted her arms. The sickening crack of bone washed over her, nearly bringing her to her knees. She dropped the demon’s lifeless body to the ground, wiping her palms down her thighs.
Tears formed in her eyes, her breaths coming in heavy gasps. What had she done?
She reached down to touch him, to feel for a pulse, when the body disappeared in a ball of thick gray smoke. She jumped back, smacked into the wall, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs. “This is so not normal.”
She pushed the fear, the worry, everything else out of her mind. If she was going to make it, and if she wanted to save Sam, she had to think on her feet. It wasn’t time for emotions. It was time for action. She rushed to the across the room to the door.
She turned the knob, edged it open, and peeked into a long, dark hall. An empty hall. She crept out the door, sticking close to the dark paneled wall as she moved away from the room where she’d been held captive.
She’d only made it a few feet when footsteps sounded ahead of her. Her heart jumped into her throat. She hadn’t made it this far to get caught now. If Tomaz caught her, he’d kill her. Of that, she had no doubt. She backed up a few steps, ducked inside another small, dark room. At least this one had windows. She glanced around, making sure she was alone, before she ran to a window, unlocked it, and pushed it open. With a silent prayer for her safety, she stepped out onto the sloped roof two stories above the ground.
The moss and mold coating the roof made for dicey traction. Her foot slipped. She cursed, crouched down to steady herself. If she lost her footing, she’d fall to the rock- and brush-strewn yard below. And then no one would be able to help Sam. She pressed on, making her way slowly across the roof until she found just what she needed. A large, gnarled tree sat ten feet from the house. She glanced at the ground, measured the distance, weighed her options. Finding no other solution, she took a quick breath for strength and jumped.
* * * * *
Sam knelt naked on the cold stone floor, the dampness of the room seeping through his skin into his bones. Aiala had strung his arms over his head, taut enough to put constant pressure on his shoulder sockets and keep him from resting back on his heels. Every muscle he had screamed and shook. How much longer would she keep him like this? How much time had passed? It felt like days, but couldn’t have been more than a few hours.
His mouth had long since gone dry, his head pounded. The alloys in the metal acted like a drug, sapping the strength of the person who wore them. Rendering them useless. He couldn’t break free. Could barely keep his eyes open.
An image of Faith flashed through his mind. Where was she? What had Tomaz done with her? Had she been able to get away? He tried to shake his head, couldn’t make the muscles move. He groaned in agony.
Aiala appeared in front of him, her high heels clicking hollowly across the stone floor. “Are you sorry now, Kincaid? Sorry you scarred me? Sorry you rejected me?”
“No,” he ground out, his voice harsh and grating to his ears. “I’d do it again. Just wait until I get out of these chains.”
She laughed. “You won’t. You know that as well as I do. Funny that you, one of the creators, are bound by them now. I like you like this. At my total and complete mercy.”
The pointed toe of her shoe connected with the side of his thigh. He fought the urge to cry out in pain. Don’t give her the satisfaction. “Where is Faith?”
“Dead.”
His stomach lurched, his breath clogging his throat. “No, she isn’t.” She couldn’t be. There would be no point to surviving if he couldn’t be with her.
“She will be. By tonight.” Aiala’s cold, amused laugh filled the room. “You’re a fine specimen of demon, Kincaid. Too bad you work for the other side. We could have had some fun together.”
“Wouldn’t have happened.”
“We still could, but in the state you’re in I’m not sure you’d be much good to me.” She grabbed something off a shelf on the wall, brandished it in front of her. A long length of thick chain. His stomach seized.
“What are you doing?”
With a flick of her wrist, the metal chain slashed against his side, sliced through his skin. He hissed out a breath, trying to work through the searing pain. It did no good. She gave him no chance to recover, lashed him again. His skin split under the force of the blow. Warm blood dripped from the wounds, dropped to the floor around his legs. He gritted his teeth, another hiss escaping his lips. He wouldn’t cry out. Wouldn’t let her see how much she hurt him.
His resolve slipped seconds later, when she lashed the chain across his open wounds. A low growl ripped from his chest, followed by a cry of pain. His body fought to shift into his true form, allowing him to heal, but the cuffs wouldn’t let it happen. He would die if she kept this up much longer. And she knew it.
She stepped away and he dared to hope she’d finished for the moment. The chain brushed his back, teasing, taunting, telling him she wasn’t nearly done with him. He sucked in big gulps of air, tried to still his racing heart. He’d be lucky if he had any skin left after her unique brand of torture.
His side burned with an intensity he’d never felt before. Never wanted to experience again. But he was trapped, and there was more to come. He wouldn’t walk away from this unscathed. Might not walk away from it at all.
Faith. Please let her be okay.
The crack of the whip against his chest dragged him from his thoughts and threw him into the present.
Shit.
Fire burned through him, searing right to his soul, as she slammed the chain against another open wound. Blood trickled down his chest, fat droplets hitting the floor. In this form, his body wouldn’t heal. Not from wounds like this. Every lash of her whip was killing him slowly. Brutally. She was stripping him of everything, and she was enjoying every second.
“Payback is a bitch, huh?” Another lash across his chest.
He groaned. “You’re a bitch.”
“I seem to remember you calling me that before, on more than one occasion.” She tipped his chin up with her finger. Her smile sent a chill through him.
“What is it you want from me?”
“I want to kill you, of course. But I want to wait until your woman is dead first. I want you to know what real agony is.”
“I’ve known real agony before.” He felt it now, burning along every nerve in his body.
“Not like this.”
She crouched in front of him, bringing her face too close to his. She leaned in and kissed him, hard and fast, her tongue sliding into his mouth before she pulled away. He spat on the floor in front of her. Her eyes narrowed and she slapped his face.
“Do not even consider disrespecting me, Kincaid. I could kill you with one more stroke of my whip, in just the right place.”
With the state of his body, he didn’t doubt it. He struggled against the chains, but he was too weak to do more than clank them together helplessly.
She grasped his cock, and stroked up and down his length. His body, too weak to be controlled by his mind, responded to her touch. “I’m glad to see you still have some strength left in you, after all. Tonight, we’ll put this to good use. Lots of good use. And then it won’t matter whether you live or die. She won’t want you once I’ve had you. And I will have you, Kincaid. You no longer have a say in the matter. Your mind may not want me, but your body disagrees. Behave yourself while I’m gone, and maybe I’ll give your body a chance to heal before I take what’s mine.”
She stood and stalked to the door, giving his back one final lash before she ste
pped out. The hollow click of the lock sounded through the room.
Time dragged while he faded in and out of consciousness. Faith. He had to get to Faith. But he couldn’t. Even if he did find a way to break free, in his weakened condition he’d be no help to her. The thought brought some semblance of a grimace to his face. Once free—if he got free—he’d need to feed to regain his strength. His control would hang by a thin thread, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from hurting her. He froze. Was that what Tomaz had planned? He wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t hurt Faith. He’d kill himself before he laid a hand on her in this condition.
Sometime later, the lock clicked open and someone stepped into the room. He waited for Aiala’s cackle, the scrape of her heels and the lash of the heavy chain against his wounded skin, but heard a low whistle instead.
“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”
His gut clenched. “Eric?”
“Yeah.” Eric stepped into his line of vision, crouched on the floor in front of him. “I heard you needed some help. I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“How did you hear that?”
“Your mate is a very resourceful woman. She got out, Sam. Got out and called me.”
“She did?” He would have smiled, if it hadn’t hurt so much. His insides felt ready to come through his skin. His stomach roiled and he fought the urge to vomit. “Is she okay? Where is she?”
“She’s fine. Back at the hotel with Merida.”
“Merida is here? Then Royce is—”
“Right behind you.”
At the sound of Royce’s voice, Sam groaned. “Jesus, Eric. Did you invite everyone?”
Eric chuckled, but it sounded strained. “Ellie isn’t here. She’s home, and has issued strict instructions for me to come back in one piece, or else heads are going to roll.”
“Her words, not his.” Another voice. Wil Brogan. The hair on the back of his neck rose. The only vampire he loathed more than Royce Cardoso.
“What the hell did you bring him for?”
Eric’s hand landed on his arm. “For this, we need all the help we can get. Relax, Sam,” Eric warned. “You’ve got to relax. I’m going to get you out of here in just a second. First, I need to know how bad of a state you’re in right now.”
“Very, very bad. It probably isn’t safe for you here.”
“Well, I refuse to just leave you.” Eric sighed and shook his head. He stood, ran a hand through his dark hair. “I suppose we don’t have a choice. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“How do you plan to do that? If you touch the chains, your power will fade too. Then you’ll be no help to anyone.”
“That’s why I’m not going to touch them.”
The two vampires stepped up, one on either side of him, and grabbed the chains. With a few sharp pulls, they’d snapped them away from the ceiling and dropped them to the floor. Another couple of tugs and they had him free of the cuffs. A small sliver of power raced through him, enough to give him the strength to move off the floor. He crouched, faced Eric, warred with the beast inside that had just been given free rein. The beast that threatened to overtake his sanity.
“Are you okay?” Eric asked, his tone tinged with worry.
“No. You should have left me there. You would have been safer.” Sam lunged, slammed Eric into the wall. It had been too long since he’d last fed deeply, and he needed blood too much to worry about the source.
Eric didn’t struggle, didn’t fight at all. Sam’s fangs elongated, burning his gums, but Eric’s passive reaction brought him back to some semblance of humanity. He narrowed his eyes at the other man, pushed away from him.
“Why didn’t you fight me?”
“We all do what we have to do in order to survive. You raised me and my sister. If you need something from me, all you have to do is ask.”
He swung his gaze to Eric. “You have no idea what I need.”
“Actually, I think I do.”
He couldn’t. Sam had never confessed his deepest secrets to anyone. No one but Faith. “What did she tell you?”
“She was worried about you. Afraid of what might happen if you didn’t feed. She told me to be careful.”
He paced the length of the cell, trying to walk off the remnants of the cuffs’ effect. He’d barely fed not long ago, from Faith. There is no need to feed now. None. “What did she tell you, Eric?”
“Everything you told her.” Eric shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had no idea. It wouldn’t have made a difference. I’ve known from the beginning you aren’t the same as Merida and I.”
A good deal of his control slid back into place. He sighed, tried to push away the constant, throbbing pain. “We can discuss it later. Now I have more important issues to take care of.”
Royce handed him his jeans. “Are you able to put these on?”
“Of course I am.” Even if it killed him. Faith was safe. Now he had to take care of Aiala and Tomaz.
Getting into the jeans was almost more than he could take. He didn’t bother with the shirt or shoes. Not yet. He’d need time to heal before he attempted something like that. “I need to find Aiala. And Tomaz.”
Eric’s hand settled on his shoulder. He shook his head. “Not in the condition you’re in. You have to go someplace dark and quiet and heal before you do anything strenuous. Let us take care of this.”
Sam stood to his full height, a good five inches over Eric’s, and let out a low growl. Eric shook his head as he dropped his hand. “You’re crazy.”
“Either crazy, or in love,” Royce said.
Wil scoffed. “In my experience, I think they’re both pretty much the same thing.”
Sam opened his mouth to answer when someone walked around the corner. Aiala.
“What’s going on in here?” She rushed at Sam, teeth bared, arms stretched out in front of her. “No! You won’t get away from me.”
Wil stepped in front of her, a long, thin knife in his hand. He slid the knife through her abdomen, gave it a twist. Pulled it back and shoved her away from him. Her long, piercing scream filled the room, raked at Sam’s eardrums. Her body hit the ground with a hiss and a sizzle just before she disappeared in a burst of flame.
“What the hell?” Eric’s gaze snapped to Wil.
Wil held the knife, glistening with demon blood, in the air and smiled. “You never know when a zirye will come in handy. I picked it up a couple of months ago. Found it in an antique store, of all places. If the owners knew the blade’s real use, I bet they would have gotten rid of it quick.”
Sam tried to smile, but the weakened muscles failed to cooperate. “Thanks. Keep that with you. I have a feeling it’s going to come in handy in a few minutes. Let’s go get Tomaz.”
Eric cleared his throat. “I still don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Good thing I didn’t ask you, then.” Keeping his back as erect as he could given his injuries, Sam strode from the room.
Chapter Thirteen
Tomaz paced the length of the small room that served as his library, his face red with the anger seething inside him. How had this happened?
He’d gone to look for the woman, to make her pay for leading him on such a chase. When he’d reached the room where she was being held, he’d found it empty. Even the slave who had been assigned to guard her was nowhere to be found. Either the slave had gone off on his own, taking the woman with him, perhaps, or she had somehow managed to kill the guard and escape. It didn’t seem a likely possibility, yet he wondered. What had Kincaid taught her in their short time together? How long had she been gone? Had she time to go for help?
Would it matter?
Now he would have to force Aiala to stop playing games with Kincaid. Without his mate, allowing her to torture him held no appeal. Tomaz sighed, shook his head. It would have been such fun to carry out his original plan. To release the man once all the humanity had been beaten out of him and lock him in a room with his woman. She wouldn’t have
stood a chance. And Kincaid, racked with guilt over what he’d done, would take his own life. Tomaz would finally be free of the man, and he wouldn’t have had any blood on his own hands.
But she’d ruined it. All of it. Why must she insist on veering away from the plan, every time?
She should have died that first night when Aiala had sent her slaves to do the job. But she’d run, found Kincaid. Secured his protection.
That alone should have sealed her fate. But it hadn’t. She’d slipped from his grasp yet again. He was no longer in the mood to allow her a relatively painless death at the hands of an out of control demon. Not anymore. Now she would suffer.
And he would enjoy every second.
He sat on the arm of one of the wingback chairs, checked the grandfather clock next to the fireplace. Where was Aiala? She’d promised to return nearly an hour ago. He fumed. Women, no matter what species, couldn’t be counted on to do their part.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, just outside the door. Footsteps from more than one pair of feet. He stiffened, stood and walked to the side of the room. What had that damned woman done this time?
The room door burst open, and Kincaid stepped inside.
Tomaz’s eyes widened. How had he escaped?
He got his answer in the form of the men who walked into the room behind Kincaid. He smiled. The evening had just taken a decidedly interesting turn. Four. Yet none as powerful as he. It had been a while since he’d had so much fun.
* * * * *
Faith crept around the corner, moved softly up the back stairs to the mansion door. She felt a tug on her arm, turned to the woman behind her. “What now?”
“Nothing. For some reason, I’m having this strange sense of déjà vu.” Merida smiled. “Sam is so going to kill me for this. We probably should have stayed at the hotel.”
“Probably.” Faith shrugged. “No matter what Sam believes, I want to be there in case he needs help. I’m not really feeling much like playing by the rules tonight.”
