Dark Devotion: Dark Series 3

by Lauren Dawes

  “Where is she?” he demanded. His question startled both of them. When they looked up, there was blood all over their faces, still trickling down from the wounds to their heads. “What the fuck happened?”

  Geri looked down at the floor. “She got away.”

  Loki blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, he found one of his hands was wrapped around Geri’s throat, his fingers tightening. He turned his head to speak to Freki. “I think I must have misheard you; you said she got away?”

  “She did,” Freki replied, his eyes fixed on Loki’s fingers wrapped around his brother’s throat. Loki eased off, letting the other god go and stepping away.

  “How could you have failed?”

  Geri rubbed his throat. “She was a lot stronger than we thought.”

  Loki growled in frustration, squeezing his hands into fists to stop them from wrapping around Geri’s throat again. He walked to the other side of the kitchen. “What good are you two if you can’t do a simple task?”

  “We’ll try again,” said Freki.

  “I don’t even know why I agreed to let you help me. I don’t need you. You’re only here because I took pity on you both.”

  Loki turned and stared at the door leading to the basement. He would make sure Taer returned to the house. He would give her something that would have her running back here.

  Turning back to the brothers, he said, “This is the last chance I’m going to give you. Failing me in this seals your deaths. Do you remember the light elf we saw at the club the other night? I don’t know how he found me, but I need him gone.”

  They both nodded in unison.

  “Good. Now, I have some other business I need to attend to. Go.”

  Walking back to the basement, Loki looked over the array of tools he’d collected. He picked up a small hacksaw and tested the teeth against his thumb. Blood welled instantly.

  He turned to Aubrey, showing the male the blade.

  “What do you think would make Taer come faster, a hand or a foot?”

  Chapter 16

  Rhys was looking for a shadow in an already darkened room. At least that’s how it felt. Wandering aimlessly around Boston, searching for a god he had no way of finding, was aggravating his beast. The brief interlude with the waitress in Chicago had left him suffering more than he had before. Now he was walking on the edge of a cliff, and it was a perilous and sharp drop to the bottom.

  Adding to the feeling that he was losing control was the tidal wave of grief over Galen’s death he was trying to hold at bay. He couldn’t do it for much longer though. Coupled with the rage he constantly carried with him, Rhys was a loaded gun with a hair trigger.

  In an attempt to distract the beast clawing at him, Rhys found himself fading to the Eye again. He stepped into the darkness formed from a blown streetlight across the other side of the club. The same Valkyrie as before was guarding the door, her shrewd eyes studying everyone who passed by her.

  Blood, his beast demanded on a snarl, pushing its will onto Rhys.

  No, Rhys spat back, although why he was speaking to it, he didn’t know. It had never listened to him before. He stayed and watched the club for as long as he could before he couldn’t take it any longer. The voice in his head was becoming more and more insistent, and everybody had their limits. He knew he couldn’t take another human. The last one didn’t know how close she’d come to meeting the thing he shared his body with.

  Rhys shuddered.

  With one final look, he faded to the War Hammer. Inside he was enveloped by the sounds, smells and sights of the old world. Sidling up to the bar, Rhys ordered some ale and watched the other patrons for a while. Since the Fall, a lot of the gods – especially the Aesir – had trouble adjusting to things. Other beings like the elves had had no trouble at all. Many of them had jobs in the human world. Many humans wouldn’t have known if their kid’s teacher was a light elf, or whether their dentist was actually an ice giant. The fire giants, on the other hand, had to be a little more selective in where they showed their faces.

  And the oldest profession for the humans also happened to be the oldest for the gods, too. Rhys’s gaze latched onto a goddess who was moving through the room, stopping to touch a man’s shoulder and whisper in his ear before moving on to another.

  She wasn’t dressed in modern clothes. Instead she was wearing a light, sheer fabric reminiscent of a Greek peplos. Deep emerald in color, it was cinched in tight to her narrow waist, accentuating her bust and hips. Rhys perused her body, lingering on all the right places, letting her know he was interested in what she was selling.

  She came to stand in front of him, meeting his heated gaze with one of her own. “One hundred for a hand job. Two hundred for a blow job and,” she stepped into the hard line of his body, dropping her hand to cup his dick, “five hundred to do whatever you want to me.”

  “I sometimes get rough,” he replied, half hoping the warning would scare her off.

  “Most men do,” the goddess replied. “Come on. I have a place close by.” She started to walk away, but Rhys pulled her to a stop. She gave him a questioning look.

  “I don’t have long.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. “Bathroom?”

  “Al has a room upstairs that he lets me use sometimes. We can go there.” Indicating with her head, she said, “There’s a set of stairs in the back. Meet you in a minute. I just have to check in with someone first.”

  Rhys walked through the bar. Even though the place was busy, and it was standing room only, there was one table set in the corner, partitioned off from the others. Nobody was sitting there, but it seemed like it was reserved for someone in particular.

  Whatever. Get what you need from the female and get out of here.

  A minute passed and the goddess returned. With a smile, she took Rhys by the hand and led him up the stairs. When she came to the door at the top, she unlocked it and stepped inside. Shutting it behind them, Rhys looked around. It looked like some kind of training room.

  “Do you want to get started right away?” she asked, drawing Rhys’s attention away from a set of daggers displayed on a board on the wall.

  He nodded.

  “Great. I do almost anything, but I draw the line at rope bondage and drawing blood.”

  “I just need to be in control, and … sometimes I get lost in the moment.”

  The goddess nodded as if she’d heard it before. Fuck, she probably had. “No problem.” With a sly smile, she started to untie her dress at the waist and then undid the clasp on her shoulder. The sheer fabric fell to the ground, pooling around her feet like a soft puddle. She had a body that would be considered too round and soft for the humans’ standards of beauty, but for Rhys she reminded him of what a real woman looked like.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, wondering where the question had come from and why he cared.

  “Ava.” She started touching her breasts, plucking at her nipples then snaking her fingers down toward the apex of her thighs. Rhys really didn’t need the encouragement. In two short steps he was standing in front of her, gripping both of her wrists. He walked her backwards until they hit the wall. Spinning her around, he pressed himself against her spine.

  “Oh!” Ava gasped, grinding her ass into his groin in appreciation.

  He felt the beast stretch out in his mind. Ignoring it, he leaned forward, nipping at the goddess’s neck. She groaned, panting theatrically. Forcing his hand between her and the wall, he felt for her sex and slipped two fingers inside without priming her first. Her inner walls clenched tight. Pumping his fingers in and out a couple of times, he waited until she was wet enough before fumbling for the zipper on his pants. He hated having to resort to sex every time he felt he was losing grip, but it was better than the alternative. All it meant was that Rhys never really enjoyed the act anymore – it was just something he had to do.

  Ava whimpered when he removed his fingers from her so he could roll on the condom. She wiggled he
r ass, silently begging him to enter her. He didn’t want to take her against the wall though; there wasn’t enough maneuvering room. Even though his beast howled in protest, Rhys stepped away. Ava looked at him over her shoulder. Even though she’d probably been fucked by thousands of men before, her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes were blazing with lust.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, growling softly to himself when he heard the gravelly quality to his voice. He looked around the room, spotting a large military-style footlocker. Pointing at the thing, he said, “Place your forearms on the top of that, keep your legs straight and clasp your hands together in front of you.”

  Ava’s eyes darted to the container and she sauntered over to it; the swing of her hips was hypnotizing. When she was in position, Rhys laid a hand on the curve of her ass and spanked her once, hard. The goddess moaned in approval. Anchoring both hands on her hips, Rhys lined himself up and slammed home, shunting her forward and causing the footlocker to move with her.

  Moving his hips back, he slid almost all the way out before slamming himself back in. Ava’s whole body quivered with the motion.

  “Harder,” she panted.

  Rhys obliged, retreating and surging forward once more until all he could hear was sex. All he could smell and taste was sex. The beast rushed forward, trying to take over the pleasure. With gritted teeth, he forced it back and reclaimed his control. He had always been afraid of this part of himself, and the beast knew it – took advantage of it – but now there was no one else to help Rhys if he gave into the animal’s base desires.

  It was all on him now.

  If aggression increased its strength, it would surely stand to reason that calmness would placate the animal. Rhys had never tried to quiet it before. In his mind’s eye, he pictured himself calming it with softly spoken words. He approached it slowly, running his hand lightly over its head and the back of its neck. He was surprised when the usually tense animal relaxed under his strokes. A low, coarse rumble sounded from its chest – almost as if it was purring. But Rhys knew it would only truly be content once he had found his release.

  His pace increased, his body slamming into Ava’s with more and more power. If she’d been human, he would have broken something.

  “Pull my hair,” Ava urged.

  “What?”

  “Pull my hair,” she repeated.

  Without losing his rhythm, Rhys leaned forward and fisted her hair, dragging it to the side and pulling her neck into a strange angle. Ava groaned.

  He was getting lost in the sensations, knowing his release – and the promise of peace – was coming. The goddess continued to make all the right noises. Rhys came with a roar that was animalistic and primal. Ava wasn’t too far behind him, but for all he knew, the sound was fake.

  As always, it only took a few moments for the veil of calm to fall over Rhys. The beast retreated from the front of his mind, but it wouldn’t stay there for very long and Rhys would have to go through all this again. At least he hadn’t hurt this one. Perhaps he could control this side of his nature.

  Sliding out of her body, Rhys disappeared the condom and pulled out his wallet. He placed five hundred dollars on top of the footlocker in front of Ava’s face. She straightened, swiping the money up in one fluid movement. She counted it, smiling at Rhys when she saw the twenty percent tip.

  “Thanks, baby. Come find me anytime.” She picked up her dress, putting it on just as quickly as she’d taken it off, and left the room.

  Rhys followed her out five minutes later. He kept his head down as he made a beeline for the door. At least one problem had been taken care of. Now all he had to do was deal with one more. He started walking, not knowing where he was going.

  The night was cold and as he breathed in the chilly air, he got lost in his thoughts once more. When he finally looked up, he found himself on State Street, standing in the shadows of the Old State House. The streets were empty, which should have been his first clue that something wasn’t right.

  He stopped, squinting at his surroundings, wondering whether the shadows were shifting as he thought they were. His beast snarled in warning. Rhys was about to fade away when he was tackled to the ground. A large body landed on him, pushing all the air from his lungs. Before he could focus on the weight on top of him, he was kicked in the face, his head snapping around and connecting with the asphalt. His vision fuzzed out, and he could taste blood on his tongue. He swallowed it down, the dark liquid fueling his beast.

  With renewed strength, he pushed the guy off and sent him into the side of a parked car. The alarm began to blare, the flashing lights illuminating the face of his attacker.

  It was someone Rhys had never seen before. With his fists clenched at his side, Rhys was ready for whatever the guy was about to do next …

  He wasn’t, however, ready for what happened.

  As if on replay, he was tackled back to the ground, and this time he did get a good look at the guy.

  He looked exactly like the first.

  Fucking twins?

  He tried to recall if he’d ever encountered the pair before. Fisting his attacker’s shirt in his hands, Rhys threw him over his head and then jumped to his feet. Standing side-on, he kept both men in his line of sight. Number One had recovered, but was shaking his head like he could still hear ringing in his ears. Number Two was only just getting up now. He had a cut above his eye, which made Rhys’s beast lick its lips in rabid appreciation. He dug his nails into his palms, attempting to refocus his thoughts.

  Rhys’s eyes darted from side to side, watching, waiting for the pair to strike. He had no doubts that they would come at him at the same time. But for a few seconds, nothing happened at all …

  Number One moved in, distracting Rhys by throwing punches at his face and around his midsection. Absorbing the hits, Rhys bided his time, finally finding an opening where he could strike at his opponent’s throat. Staggering back a step, Number One gasped for air. Rhys only had a moment to enjoy the triumph as Number Two jumped on his back.

  In one fluid movement, Rhys threw him forward over his shoulder. Number Two landed with a heavy crunch in front of him. Number One struck back, sweeping Rhys’s feet from under him. He landed heavily and awkwardly, his body twisting at a strange angle. By this time, Rhys had lost track of who was who. He looked up to find one of the men standing over him, a blade in his hand.

  “Stand him up,” the guy said. Rhys was suddenly vertical, standing nose to nose with one of them. His twin was standing behind Rhys, a physical barrier that meant nothing at all to him … but they didn’t know that. The sweet smell of blood fragranced the air, and it took Rhys a second to realize it was his own blood he was smelling.

  He looked down to find the dagger sticking out of his gut, blood soaking his shirt. He saw his beast shift beneath his skin, the muscles in his stomach rolling with the motion.

  “What the fuck was that?” the guy still standing in front of him asked. Rhys fisted the guy’s shirt at the shoulders, holding him tightly.

  “You don’t want to do this,” he warned, feeling his beast surge behind his eyes.

  The guy blinked at him, hesitating for just a moment. That moment of weakness was all it took for the animal to completely take over.

  A terrifying snarl rent the air, and Rhys heard his other attacker shift nervously behind him. “Geri?” he asked, a quiver in his voice. The fear caught his beast’s attention, holding it. Rhys turned around, knowing his eyes were blazing yellow and his face was changing shape. The guy backed away a step and Rhys turned his attention to the guy’s brother. Shoving him away, Rhys let go of his control. With a shudder that not only rolled over his skin, but also through his veins, his blood and bones, Rhys succumbed to the darkness inside him. His muscles tore, ripping away from the bones they were anchored to. Shredded, they could reform into a body that was stronger, more designed for fighting and perfect for rending meat from bone.

  One mi
nute he was standing on two legs.

  The next, he was on four, his body substantially larger than it had been before. It was covered in dark hair that insulated him against the cold Boston night. His new mouth, filled with sharp curved teeth, was just another weapon in his arsenal. His paws flexed into the unforgiving street surface, his nails scraping loudly. He was at least two hundred and fifty pounds in his wolf’s body.

  “Loki didn’t say anything about this,” one of the men said. Rhys’s sharp gaze cut to him.

  Kill, his wolf demanded.

  A growl left his throat.

  The sound seemed to snap the other two gods back into action. They came at him at the same time, but Rhys was more than ready. He was inhaling their fear, letting it strengthen him. One of the men threw himself at him, but Rhys merely batted him away with one paw. The other man jumped on his back, plunging a blade into his side. The steel slid through his ribs and nicked one of his lungs. Rhys immediately felt the injury, but it only enraged his wolf. Bucking wildly, he threw the god off him, rounding on him with a snarl. With his teeth on the handle, he pulled out the knife still lodged in his side and dropped it to the ground. The wound throbbed in time with his heart, but the adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream was helping to stop the worst of the pain.

  Rhys waited for the god to scramble to his feet before he struck; he was always one for equality, and never hit a person when they were down. Opening his mouth over the man’s thigh, Rhys clamped his jaws shut, snapping the bone in two.

  Hello, agony.

  The guy screamed out, the sound too delicious for Rhys’s wolf to ignore. He could feel his grip starting to slip. If he gave in completely to his beast, death and destruction were sure to follow. Like closing a mental fist, Rhys contained his wolf’s violent urges once more. It snarled in his head, fighting the command.

  Rhys’s ears began to swivel as he heard the other brother get up. He readied himself for another attack, swinging around to face the enemy, seeing the blade he carried.