Chago observed Irena interact with Innocent’s family as if in a trance.
Irena glanced at him, her expression amused. She cocked her head to the side and squinted as if he were a wayward puppy. Her lips moved, but the words floated past him like a dream.
“Chago?”
He snapped out of his reverie to find everyone staring at him. Perfect. Served him right for allowing his mind to wander. He looked at Irena again. “Sorry. What was the question?”
“Celina asked your profession.” Irena’s smile beamed innocence personified, but the flicker of humor in her eyes told a different story.
“Oh. I’m in intelligence.”
“Before you said security.” Irena frowned. “Which is it?”
“The two are not mutually exclusive, querida.”
She blushed and looked away.
“That’s how you recognized them weapons earlier?” Innocent asked. Chago nodded and the militia leader seemed to consider the information for a moment before he pushed up from his seat and waved his arms at his brood. “C’mon, kids. You’s help clean this up then get yourselves to bed. Big school day tomorrow.”
The family rose en masse and obeyed without argument.
Chago hid his amazement. His opinion of Innocent cranked a few notches higher toward admiration. Despite their less than ideal conditions, the man had carved a decent life out of the wilderness, something he both related to and respected.
Innocent suggested they move to the porch. Irena elected to stay inside and help Celina with the dishes. Chago followed his host outside and Innocent offered him a smoke, but he declined. A lighter flared and the orange tip of a lit cigarette glowed in the darkness. The twilight filled with sounds of creaking wood and locusts.
“We need you.” Innocent’s quiet voice carried like a balm across the shadowed porch.
Right. Chago gave a half-smile. If only he had a dime for every time he’d heard those words over the course of his long life. “Irena’s right, Innocent. We’re here to stop the conflict, not increase it.”
“What if the only way to end the violence is to fight?” Innocent sat back in his chair, propping a foot up on the porch rail. “To die?”
He recognized the man’s tone. The resignation of one who’d reached the terminus of hope. “Brutality rarely solves anything. A lesson I learned the hard way, my friend. Don’t make the same mistake.”
“Used to agree with you.” Innocent glanced through the nearby window. “Now I believe different. We must fight for what we know is right. What we know is good. Truth.”
Following his host’s gaze, Chago spotted the closed bedroom door where Innocent’s children slept and the two women standing at the sink. He pictured Irena in the kitchen on his ranch, smiling as he embraced her from behind and pulled her against him. An eagle called from overhead, its keen jarring him back to harsh reality.
“How do you propose to triumph, Innocent? Those men this morning were armed to the eyeballs and more than willing to kill. It’s only a matter of time until they receive the training required to organize. You’d need a hell of a militia to defeat the latest Russian military equipment.”
“I got me some surprises up my sleeve.”
“Really? And what might those be?”
“You.”
Chago fought to bolster some righteous fury. No use. Innocent’s smile should carry a contagion warning. Soon, his lips twitched and he unleashed a full-blown grin. Damn. He did love a challenge and this civil war was shaping up to be one hell of a retirement send-off. “Heaven help us if I’m your secret weapon.”
“Countin’ on it.”
The screen door squeaked and both men glanced up. Chago caught Irena’s eye as she stepped outside. Celina joined them as well and Innocent’s voice broke the quiet. “Anybody up for a game of cards?”
Everyone nodded and Innocent went back in the house to grab the deck.
Irena pulled up a chair beside Chago. Once more, he lost track of his surroundings, immersed in the depths of her eyes. He acknowledged, but didn’t heed, the eerie stillness settling over the plain until the lights flickered and died.
Fuck. Reality slammed back into place, all his instincts now on high alert.
Silence thickened the air. Nothing moved.
Screams began, distant at first, but drawing nearer with each passing second. Horrible, high-pitched squeals of death, echoing around the nearby plains.
Chago pushed from his chair and assumed a battle-ready stance.
Innocent flew out the door, shotgun in hand.
“Get in the house, Irena. Now!” Chago ordered. “Take Celina with you.”
For once, she did as instructed and hustled the others inside before securing the door.
With his target safe, he turned his attention to the threat at hand and pulled a concealed dagger from his waistband.
The metallic tang of blood clung heavy in the air and fueled his unease. Chago’s throat tightened, turning his voice into a gruff bark of tension. “Got a torch?”
Innocent grabbed one from the wall, lit the end, and together the men squinted into the sudden illumination. Chago was the first to spot the heinous offering. “Madre Dio!”
Strung amongst the branches of the front yard tree were the remains of a rebel insurgent, the man’s empty skin dangling like a busted toy-soldier piñata. What was left of the victim’s head lolled to one side, his eyes open in a blind, horrifed stare.
“Just like dem Bantu.” Innocent said, turning away from the massacre.
Something rustled in the nearby bushes, commanding Chago’s attention. “Show yourself!”
Irena gasped, her eyes wide with horror as she got a glimpse of his injuries. Chago inched closer and leaned into the blackness.
Inhuman snarls shredded the silence. Decay and moist earth reeked from the unwelcome intruder. Torchlight glinted off rows of impossibly long teeth shoved sardine-tight into a gaping, circular mouth reminiscent of a pool drain. Archon.
Chago focused on the abomination before him and struggled to keep his tone calm. “Innocent, get everyone together and leave.”
Innocent hesitated.
Goddammit. He stepped closer and speared his host a furious glare, his patience at an end. He’d not allow Archon anywhere near Irena. “Now!”
Innocent handed over the shotgun and rushed inside to herd the others out the backdoor.
Equipped with a weapon in each hand and an endless supply of vengeance, Chago stepped off the porch. “C’mon, you sack of shit! Fight me!”
Archon swung at him and Chago took a reflexive step back. Fangs were the only sharp feature on his opponent’s face. The rest of the bastard’s mug resembled a crazy quilt of purplish-gray scars and bulging yellow eyes. Whatever other terrors Lucifer fashioned, his son was a whole mess of ugly. Killing him would be an act of mercy.
He raised the shotgun and fired. The bullet ricocheted off Archon’s thick hide, ineffective. Aimed for the head and tried again. This time, Chago clipped what appeared to be an already mangled ear. Smelly, greenish slime oozed forth. Archon grunted but continued advancing.
Shit. He tossed the gun aside and sliced ahead with his dagger. Archon parried with razor-sharp claws. Together, they circled in a macabre recital of the death ballet. A mottled hand swung close and Chago ducked then thrust his blade up toward what he hoped was his opponent’s chest. Missed. Fuck. He’s miscalculated Archon. Again.
Archon’s massive arm struck Chago on the side of the head and knocked him to the ground. Pain exploded through his nervous system as a scalpel-sharp claw cleaved across his thigh. Archon roared, his breath a putrid cocktail of human waste.
Santo Cristo. He struggled against his opponent’s overwhelming grip. Numerous assaults slashed his chest, his neck and soon the blood loss made him easy quarry. Death called to Chago for the second time in twenty-four hours and once again it promised to hurt like hell.
Into the silent pause before his demise came a soft echo of
reprieve — the snick of a cocked gun.
“Move away or I’ll blow your head off, asshole!” Irena’s ironclad tone carried across the humid air.
Archon turned and she shot. Green slime splattered, falling from his wounded mouth as he stumbled, tripping in his rush to escape. He gave a final shout of defiance before disappearing into the brush.
Through a pain-induced haze, Chago marveled at the precision of Irena’s strike. She’d hit the abomination square in its soft spot. Maybe he’d underestimated her.
Irena tossed the rifle away and knelt beside him to run her hands lightly over his wounds, inspecting the damage. He gritted his teeth against the mix of agony and ecstasy brought by her touch and voiced a half-hearted admonishment. “I told Innocent to get you and the kids the hell out of here.”
“Lucky for you I’m not a good listener.” Irena brushed the hair from his eyes and wiped a glob of green muck from his cheek. “What was that thing?”
“Don’t know.” The lie tripped easily off his lips, despite the situation. He would not allow Irena to become involved in his past vendettas. Chago attempted to stand and the world spun out of control. He squeezed his eyes shut as his consciousness wavered. Fuck.
The lights clicked on again, flooding the yard with illumination. Irena gasped, her eyes wide with horror as got a glimpse of his injuries. “We need to get you to a doctor immediately.”
“No.” He sucked in a breath and rolled to his side to brace his shattered ribs while a gash on his chest began to seal. “No doctor. I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”
Despite his statement, Irena ran to the house and returned a moment later with a damp cloth. “At least let me wrap your leg so the predators don’t come looking for a meal. This is Africa, remember?”
He acquiesced. Nocturnal eyes already flashed from the brush, indicating an influx of carnivores. The last thing he needed to top off this sudden shitfest of an evening was a bout of lion wrestling. She rolled the towel into a makeshift tourniquet and wrapped it snug around his thigh.
“Any other wounds I need to see?” Irena wiped her hands on her stained sundress.
“Nothing you can help with.” Chago managed a weak smile and struggled to a sitting position. A spiral of agony coursed up his spinal cord to join the now constant pound in his head. He needed to get his target to safety. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 12
True to his brooding nature, Chago remained stone silent on the ride back to the hotel, though he did give a mute prayer of thanks to Divinity for the late hour of their return and the conspicuous lack of onlookers for his bedraggled appearance. The few patrons dotting the lobby witnessed only the antics of an over-amorous couple headed for a romp in bed.
Irena had draped herself around him with strategic precision, using her body to hide the large crimson stains while Chago stayed close to the wall and effectively concealed any other damaging marks.
He caught sight of his reflection in a nearby mirror and did a double take. His face resembled a badly used punching bag. No way to conceal that. His only saving grace was the soft pressure of Irena’s breasts crushed to his side and the warmth of her breath on his neck. He glanced down at the woman by his side. If he weren’t in such bad shape he would have taken full advantage of the tantalizing display she offered.
After a long trek across the lobby and a longer elevator ride, Irena helped him to his room before retreating to hers. He’d just peeled off the remains of his shirt and started on his pants when a soft knock sounded through the connecting door. Chago spun to find temptation standing mere steps beyond.
His gaze lingered on Irena’s messy hair and stained dress then dropped to the first-aid kit clutched in her hand. He turned away before he did something they’d both regret. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m a trained EMT.” Irena ignored him and marched into his room. “Let me take a look and make sure.”
With the sigh of a condemned man, he threw his keycard on the dresser. “Treatment isn’t necessary.”
She disappeared into the bathroom, emerging moments later with towels and an ice bucket full of water. “Sit down before I tie you to the seat.”
Images of being restrained while she had her wicked way flooded his overtaxed mind. Her determined gaze locked with his, daring him to protest. He knew when to admit defeat. Best to get this over fast.
Chago slumped into the room’s only chair with all the enthusiasm of a wayward schoolboy in the principal’s office. Irena wet a couple washcloths and laid them across the still tender flesh of his chest. The liquid permeated the freshly scabbed areas and opened them anew. His breath hissed between clenched teeth and his chin dropped until the burning agony receded. Irena stroked his hair and a different kind of fire ignited as his gaze snagged on the soft breasts now inches from his face. He groaned.
“Sorry, I know this hurts, but I have to clean these cuts.” Seemed his dutiful caretaker had mistaken his aroused growls for pain. “Otherwise they might get infected. And believe me, you don’t want an infection, not in this country.”
She continued to chatter on about nothing in particular as she cleaned the blood from his lower abdomen. Archon hadn’t killed him, but Irena’s treatment might prove to be his death knell. Her hands worked to unbuckle his belt and push the waistband of his trousers lower to expose the bottom of a nasty scrape.
Any hope Chago carried for rational behavior fled faster than a gazelle on steroids. Irena’s lilting voice only added fuel to his unbridled libido. “Whatever the creature was, it had a set of claws. These marks are deep and wide. Not to mention the teeth marks.”
“Archon’s no ordinary animal.” He forced speech past the testosterone-laden rampart in his throat while Irena reached for a clean dressing. Her fingers brushed close to the rising bulge of his crotch and his restraint shattered. He shoved her hands away and pushed from the chair, distancing himself from the woman who knelt on the floor before him and her confused expression.
“Get over here. I’m almost done.” Irena stood, a white towel bunched in her hands. “Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m not a child, woman.” His ego bristled and the tight reins of his self-imposed abstinence slipped from his grasp. Chago turned, advancing toward her with the slow, sure steps of an alpha predator with his next meal in sight, his voice choked with lust. “Shall I show you?”
She backed away, stopping only when the wall prevented further escape. Irena gave a small, nervous laugh and stared square at the middle of his chest, avoiding his gaze. “I — I was joking. Nothing personal.”
He placed a hand on the doorframe beside her head. Heat radiated from her skin and intensified the wildflower scent of her hair. Beneath his pointed stare, Irena’s pupils dilated to cover all but a rim of sapphire iris. The changes fascinated him. Chago channeled his high-voltage determination into a slow grin and pushed an errant strand of hair from her shoulder. “Maybe personal is what I desire.”
Irena stared into his eyes, her bottom lip trembling beneath his steady gaze. He cupped her cheek and traced the pad of his thumb across her mouth. Her eyes slid closed and his already molten desire flared hotter. Pink tinged her cheeks, drifting down the graceful column of her neck. His runaway train of passion crashed headlong into the yearnings of his heart.
“Santo Cristo, save me.” Chago’s fervent plea whispered against her velvet skin. He worked his way across the smooth curve of her cheek toward her lips. The kiss started slow and grew more forceful as she responded. He buried his fingers in the mass of her hair to lock her in place. Her hands fisted against his bare chest then slid higher to grip his shoulders, pressing her luscious body into his long length. Intoxicated with the taste of her, Chago nibbled from Irena’s jawline to her ear. “Querida, you’re delicious.”
She whimpered and he tucked her closer, rotating his hips and allowing her to experience the full extent of his passion. Irena forced his lips back to hers, demanding more. Chago regained
a modicum of control and dusted kisses across her throat while lowering the zipper at the rear of her dress. His fingers traced inside to stroke her soft flesh, delighted to elicit a shiver from his eager partner.
His protective Scion instincts merged with baser, human urges. This woman was his to guard, to care for, to touch. A solitary commandment penetrated his sex-addled brain. Mine.
The sundress slipped from her shoulders and Chago admired the prize he’d revealed, eager to caress her taut, rosy peaks. He flicked his tongue over her collarbone, savoring the salty-sweet taste of her skin. It had been too long since he’d taken a lover. Too long since he’d let his libido rule. Too long since he’d opened his heart.
His thumbs brushed her sensitive nipples and her passionate cries filled his ears like a sonata. Tonight, his eternal wait ended.
He kissed one breast, his accent growing thicker. “Bonita, mi carina.”
Her hands bunched in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. He suckled one tender pink bud, his warm breath fanning the strained point before his tongue bathed the sensitive flesh. Irena arched and a growl tore from his throat, possessiveness and raw with need.
His mouth hovered millimeters above her flushed skin, the distance a sweet torture.
The harsh jangle of a phone stopped his seduction cold.
Through the fog of desire, Chago cursed technology into the next millennium. He recognized the ringtone and fury froze his movements. Barron better start running now, because if he ever caught him, the guy could kiss his immortal cojones goodbye.
With a snarled curse, he set Irena a safe distance away before snatching the phone from the bed. He glanced at the caller ID and halted, surprised to see Xander’s name instead. Fuck. He looked back at Irena. She stared at him as if in a daze, confusion lighting her features. Seemed his chastity was safe for another evening. After an apologetic glance in her direction, he answered the call, his voice a lethal weapon. “This better be good.”
Seal of Surrender Page 9
