Wicked Waves: Solsti Prophecy #2

by Kay, Sharon

  With one final growl, the guard turned and stomped out, following the others. The heavy wood slammed shut. With a boom, the outer beam thudded into place.

  Brooke ran as far as her chain would allow. Metal dug into her ankle as she strained for the door. Unable to get close, she went up on her tiptoes again and desperately peered into the space beyond the window. But it was no use. The square was too small to see anywhere but straight ahead. Her shoulders slumped and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Breathing in short gasps, she willed herself not to hyperventilate.

  The stomps and shuffles of feet moved farther down the corridor, until she could only hear an occasional faint shout from the hall. The drip of water sounded nearby, infuriatingly out of her control. Fear for Kai coursed through her veins in a cold rush, but underlying it all was a pulse of anger and…protectiveness.

  She gritted her teeth, hating Draven, his father, and their sick schemes. She wanted to whisk Kai away from this hellhole of painful memories. Lowering herself to the cold floor, she sat with her knees bent, bound hands wrapped around her ankles, and willed him to survive whatever he was about to endure.

  CHAPTER 11

  MUSIC AND RAUCOUS SHOUTS ECHOED off every wall in the dark tavern. The autumnal equinox had recently passed, and many residents of Torth who happened to be fertile at that time were out celebrating their lack of need for birth control. Raniero pushed his way through groups of demons, fairies, and other supernatural creatures hell-bent on having a good time.

  Most took one glance at his warrior’s build and scarred face and gave him a wide berth. Spotting the blond elf he’d come for, he closed the distance between them. “Johanna?”

  She leaned against the wood-paneled wall, absorbed in filing her pink and black zebra-patterned fingernails. She rotated her hand and tilted her head, inspecting her work. “Yeah?”

  “Are you ready?”

  Stunning purple eyes looked up at him. “You really wanna go to that shithole?”

  “Yes.” He drew upon the minute amount of patience he possessed. He was paying her to get him where he needed to go. Friendliness wasn’t part of the bargain.

  She held his gaze while she blew a big pink bubble and popped it loudly. Cracking her gum twice in quick succession, she reached for his hands. “All right, Watcher.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “You ever travel with a porter before?” she asked. Crack, crack.

  “No.”

  “I need physical contact with you. It’s easiest to hold hands.”

  He took her hands in his. Stars, she was tiny. She had to be two feet shorter than he was. Well, she was an elf, after all, and he was one of Arawn’s Lash Watchers. Hard to believe this little thing was about to whisk him to another realm, using only the power of her mind.

  He glanced around the crowded room. “You want to do this right here?”

  “If anyone has a problem with it, what are they gonna do? Come after us?” She smirked and blew another bubble.

  He inclined his head. She had a point. Porters were so rare that the odds of another being in this room were about a million to one. In all the realms, only six were known to exist. And one of them worked exclusively for his employer, Cale.

  Cale didn’t know anything about Raniero’s excursion today. This trip was strictly off the record. He’d called in every favor owed to him in order to secure Johanna’s services. Using a porter was the only way to get to the desolate realm of Evena.

  “Here we go, demon,” Johanna said, squeezing his hands. Power vibrated from her fingers into his. The tavern dissolved around them, replaced by thick gray fog. Weightlessness wrapped his body in a gentle spin, his feet not touching the ground. Johanna clutched his hands, her eyes closed and her face tilted back in peaceful concentration.

  After a minute the fog dissipated. Raniero glanced around to see rolling hills building to craggy mountains in the distance. A few green trees dotted the landscape, surrounded by small patches of scrubby grass. The majority of the terrain was brown and rocky, rendered barren centuries ago by a demon-induced environmental crisis.

  He looked down at his companion and released her hands. “That was one smooth ride, elf.” It was nothing like the jerky, tumbling sensation of traveling through a portal.

  “I’ll take that comment in a purely professional context,” she said, grinning.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Good.” He felt nothing beyond a professional interest in Johanna. He gave his heart away a hundred years ago, and ever since then he’d searched for the female who held it. Here, in this tiny remote realm, he hoped to find her.

  Johanna landed them on the outskirts of a town, rumored to be the only one in the realm. Any hardy souls who didn’t live in town resided in various outposts scattered throughout the hills.

  They strode toward a cluster of clapboard and wood-frame buildings, hoping to find a gathering place. A bar, restaurant, hotel, or maybe all three in one. Johanna would wait there for him while he conducted his business. And he hoped against all hope she’d be bringing two people back to Torth.

  It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. The town had one main street, and businesses lined two blocks of it. Music emanated from a large establishment at the near end of the street. A Lash demon paced outside, talking on his gem phone.

  As they neared the building, the demon spotted them and ended his call. He glanced at Johanna, then focused his attention on Raniero.

  “You folks visiting?” the demon asked. His eyes shifted up and down Raniero’s face, no doubt noticing the scar that ran from his eye to his chin.

  “Yeah,” Raniero said. He nodded at the entrance. “Food any good here?”

  “Tell you what, the more lager you drink with the food, the better it tastes,” the other demon drawled.

  Johanna smacked her gum. Raniero cracked a grin and pushed the door open.

  He paused to examine the place, all his senses probing the atmosphere. Satisfied there were no predatory species, he led Johanna to a worn wooden bar. Tall stools formed an orderly row in front of it, and he stifled a grin at the thought of sitting there with her. She’s so damn short, she’ll need a boost. He pulled one out for her and she hopped gracefully up.

  “What brings you two here?” asked a plump female tending bar.

  Raniero eyed her. Petite and with pointed ears, he surmised she was some type of fae. “I’m looking for a friend,” he said.

  “I’m his ride,” Johanna said with a sly grin.

  At her words, the male demon next to her swiveled on his seat. “Say, can you take me to Torth?”

  The man hadn’t even blinked at Johanna’s sexual reference. Raniero registered his complete lack of surprise at sitting next to one of the few porters in existence. Then again, porters were the only way to get to and from Evena. The residents probably saw more than their fair share.

  “Sorry, no other transports while I’m under contract with my current client,” Johanna said. “But if you want, we can draw up papers for a later date.”

  “Who’re you lookin’ for, demon?” the bartender asked.

  “A female Lash demon named Ashina.” Raniero kept his tone level and detached.

  The bartender’s eyes narrowed. “Are you ill?”

  Raniero paused, concealing his surprise. What kind of a question is that? He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “Do I look sick?”

  “No, no.” The woman took a step back. “Ashina’s our healer, is all.”

  Good Gods. Raniero’s chest tightened as one hundred years of emotion shot through his heart. She’s alive. A century spent tracking every lead, searching every corner of every region he’d ever been to. Decades of forced service to her father, eliminating his enemies in the swiftest way possible, holding on to the hope that she would still see goodness in him. Sweet Ashina.

  He exhaled, fighting the urge to jump up and tear through the town until she was in his arms. His blood thundered in his ears, urging him t
o seek the woman he would have as his mate. But as he fought the flood of emotions, a sliver of trepidation sliced through his gut. It had been a hundred years since they were forced apart. Did she still love him?

  Cold. Kai felt like he’d been dropped onto a sheet of ice. Chills covered his skin, but fire licked through his tendons and muscles. He couldn’t move. No way his eyes would open. Drifting in and out of consciousness, he grasped at two thoughts. No new blows rained down on his body. No new metal pierced his flesh.

  He sensed darkness and solitude. No, wait. Someone was near. One person. He drew a breath, scenting the air, but the searing agony of broken ribs made him dizzy. His mind grasped only one sensation before he slid back into blackness. Lilacs.

  Racking pain seized Kai’s chest. He lay on his back, coughing. Sweet Jesus, it hurt to cough. But the tang of iron filled his mouth, choking him. He tried rolling to his side. Couldn’t move. Coughing again, his lungs forced out liquid. Blood. His.

  With a monumental effort, he fought blinding waves of agony and moved to his side, spitting. The skin on his legs stung. That was good—at least he could feel them.

  A voice, soft and sweet, wove a tender melody in the back of his consciousness. Was it an angel? Maybe he imagined it. Maybe he was dying. He couldn’t tell. He cracked one eye open. What the hell? Did they blind him? Everything was black. Then he caught the smell of lilacs.

  The voice started again. Speaking this time. Calm and melodious, caressing his ragged skin. He let the voice lull him. The scent of lilacs filled his nose and lifted him along another wave of nothingness.

  Kai jerked awake to the loud scrape of the door opening. Every muscle clenched, and he gasped with the tormented movement. He heard chuckling. Something hit the floor. Footsteps receded. The huge door creaked, then slammed shut. His ears pounded with the thudding echo.

  The cell. Draven. Brooke. Good gods, was she okay? Panic overrode pain. He struggled to look around for her. His eyelids felt like lead weights, but he pried them open. She sat on the floor, leaning against the opposite wall, rubbing her eyes.

  He tried to say her name, his voice nothing more than a croak.

  “Kai!” She scooted forward, stopping short of him. She turned, yanked on a chain attached to her ankle, and swore. “Kai. Oh my god, Kai.” She stretched out her bound wrists, but she couldn’t reach him. “I was so worried.”

  Her movements sent a fresh wave of warm, lilac scented air toward him, and it swirled over him in a soothing balm. Christ, he needed it. His ribs hurt like hell. Every breath pinched. The dampening spell prevented him from healing as quickly as he usually did.

  “Water,” he rasped. It came out as a muddled, gravelly scraping sound, but Brooke seemed to understand. She scooted toward a lump on the floor and brought it back with her. He recognized it as one of the waterskins provided for the slaves.

  “Dammit,” she cursed, unable to get close enough. “Wait…”

  She set the water down as close to him as she could, then rolled awkwardly onto her side. She stretched out on her belly, arms in front of her, and grabbed the skin. Inching toward him on her stomach, with her chained leg extended behind her, she got close enough to touch him. Her soft, tentative fingers traced his jaw.

  “I’m gonna drip a little water into your mouth. Just a little at first. Open up.”

  He obeyed, and when the first drops hit his cracked lips, relief coursed through him. She gave him a little more, then set it aside.

  “More.”

  “You should wait a bit and make sure that stays down,” she said softly. “I don’t want you to throw up. After whatever they did, it may reopen some wounds.” She sighed and stroked his hair. “Oh, Kai. I’m gonna kill those bastards for doing this to you.”

  He wanted to chuckle at her feistiness, but his abdominal muscles felt like they had been pulled apart and hung out to dry on a clothesline in hell. Instead, a groan escaped his mouth.

  “Shh, don’t try to talk,” she murmured. She shifted and wiggled until she lay on her side facing him, her chained leg still angled behind her on the floor. “I’m going to tell you about some of the silly stuff Nicole and I did when we were kids. But first, I’m going to tell you my most favorite memory ever.”

  He gazed at her, seeing acutely in the dark. Her wide eyes held a faraway, serene expression. How she managed that, given their situation, he had no idea. He didn’t know why she’d decided to entertain him this way, but he didn’t care. Her scent, her voice, her nearness, all worked together to push the physical pain to the back of his mind, leaving his senses free to fill with her.

  “I was only four when our parents died, so I don’t have many memories of them. But I remember our mom. She had dark hair, like me and Ginny. I remember this one time, when I got sick and she sat with me in my room while my sisters ran around doing God knows what. Mom rubbed my back and sang this silly lullaby about baking a pie together. A strawberry pie from heaven. It didn’t make sense, but I guess that’s not the point. It made me feel better, though. Want to hear it?”

  He nodded, rapt, buoyed by her voice. Her shackled hands, resting near her belly, reached for his. Lacing her slender fingers through his bruised ones, she sang.

  As her voice filled the dark cell, an odd mix of peacefulness and tingling settled over him. Even if his body hadn’t gone through Draven’s meat grinder, he couldn’t have moved. Her full lips formed the words, every melodious note reaching out to him like a lifeline, anchoring him to her side. Dulcet tones washed over him like a soft rain, refreshing him, sinking into his soul.

  Her chest rose as she breathed in between the phrases. Pale gray eyes locked with his. Sweet energy buzzed through his muscles, loosening the spikes of searing pain. His chest constricted, but not from injury.

  Brooke. She was taking care of him, sharing herself. Unguarded.

  A small smile played across her mouth and he blinked, realizing she had finished the song.

  “You sing like an angel,” he grunted.

  “Thanks.”

  “Have you been singing to me since they brought me back in here?”

  “Yeah.” A shadow crossed her face. “You were unconscious and bloody. Sometimes you looked like you were waking up, but then you didn’t…I felt so useless. I had to do something. Talking and singing were all I could think of.”

  “I heard you.”

  “You did?”

  He squeezed her fingers gently. “I didn’t know it was you. Hell, I didn’t know where I was…or if I was even alive. But your voice cut through.” Gave me something to hold on to. He cleared his throat, the words coming easier now. “I don’t remember much, but I remember that.”

  She smiled in the dim glow from the square window. A true smile, one that reached her eyes. It warmed his battered body. Through searing pain, she’d helped him remember he was alive. His heart lurched in his chest, aching to keep her close.

  “Let’s try some more water,” she said, releasing his hands and twisting to reach for the skin. She dripped more of the precious liquid into his mouth and he gulped. Glimmers of his returning strength trickled through him, though whether it was from the water or from her presence, he wasn’t sure.

  With uncanny accuracy, she read his thoughts. “Will you heal on your own?”

  “Eventually. I don’t know how long it will take, thanks to the fucking dampening spell.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. Just more of what you’ve been doing.” He grinned at her.

  She set the water down and stretched out next to him. “I guess most guys would enjoy having a personal nurse.” Her gray eyes twinkled in the dark.

  “A nurse who’s bound. Two fantasies in one,” he said wryly.

  “I’d slap you for that, but there’s nowhere to hit you that isn’t bruised or cut.”

  “And inflicting pain on me? That’s three in one.”

  “Stop it.” She shook her head and giggled.

  Listening to her sw
eet little laugh at his dumb joke, his stupidity slammed into him. She was a rare and powerful creature, and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He had gotten them into a dire situation, yet she was playing nurse to his sorry ass. She had every reason to hate him. For the love of all the gods, why had he been so rude to her since day one?

  He cleared his throat. Apologies weren’t his thing. “Brooke, I’m…I’m sorry…”

  Her eyes flew to his face, blinking. “For what?”

  “I’ve been a total dick to you.”

  She lay silent for a moment. “I haven’t exactly showered you with kindness.”

  “I never gave you a reason to.”

  “True…but I didn’t need to respond the same way.”

  He frowned. “Isn’t this the part where you say, ‘apology accepted, I forgive you?’”

  She chuckled softly. “You don’t do this often, do you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  He sighed and stared at the ceiling. “I fucked it all up from the start, that day at the house.”

  “Yep, I’d say things were going well until you opened your mouth.”

  Ouch. It was true. “I deserved that.”

  “How about we start over?”

  Kai’s gaze shifted to her, meeting her piercing stare. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean this.” She cleared her throat. “Hi, I’m Brooke.”

  Where is she going with this? He didn’t know, but he was willing to listen. He raised his eyebrows and went along with her, dragging out his words. “Hello, Brooke. I’m Kai.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kai. Say, do you know any good ways to escape a dungeon?”

  His thoughts sobered. The truth was--he didn’t. Garrod had helped him the first time, but it had taken nearly a year for the opportunity to arise. They were in serious danger and it was his fault. His failings weighed like boulders, heavier and more wrenching than his broken bones and lacerated muscles.