by Jo Carlisle
He swung at the second, who’d let her go and backpedaled, but not fast enough. Soren plunged the blade through his black heart and yanked it free to face the rest. But there were too many enemies, even for a former Warrior of Exodus with a magical sword.
The demons dog-piled him, and he lost Harley in the melee. She cried out again and he tried to reach her, only to have the breath pummeled out of him. The desperate situation and the demons’ violence called to the beast that was always lurking, waiting to answer. For once he let it come, allowed the power to surge through him and explode. Snarling in rage, he shook a few of them off, but not all. Though he went crazy, fought like a mad animal, they managed to pin him again. He’d slaughter them all, if only he could get free.
Scrabbling for purchase, they clawed him, one getting a fistful of his hair and yanking back his head. The Gorgon yelled for the demon to stop, but its bloodlust was stronger. He raked his claws across Soren’s throat just as a jarring blow snapped his head sideways . . . and he knew nothing more.
He could smell her blood.
Hunger. Lust.
Those twin devils rode him hard. He could sense her sadness, her anguish. They called to him, but not as much as the pull of her blood. The musky dampness of her sex.
He knew her. How?
The image rose. Moving between her thighs. She’d cried out his name. And what was his name?
I’ll come back to you. . . .
His promise. Loss and grief flooded him because he knew he’d broken his word.
“Soren? Honey, please wake up.”
Was he Soren? The musical sound of her beautiful voice beckoned him. To hear it again, he’d be whomever she wanted. With effort, he tried to obey, but his eyelids seemed frozen.
“Honey, it’s Harley.”
The name and her sweet voice teased the edges of a forgotten time. A lost world.
He opened his eyes and found himself staring into a lovely face. She was looking down at him anxiously, auburn hair falling around her shoulders. His gaze traveled to the wild pulse at her throat, and the scent of blood aroused him.
Hunger clawed at his guts, shredding them, blinding him to everything else except making it stop. Snarling, he lunged, but was held fast by the bindings at his wrists and ankles. The woman scrambled backward, staring at him, her green eyes huge. Fighting the bonds, he roared in fury, the need tearing him apart. He had to have blood.
“Soren, stop! You’re hurting yourself!” She clamped a small hand over her mouth, and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Her torment stilled him. He lay back, panting, the terrible pain twisting in his stomach.
She took a step closer, hope blooming on her face. “Baby, it’s me. We—I’m your mate. Do you remember? Please. You beat this before and you can do it again!” This brought a fresh barrage of silent tears, and he understood that it hurt her to have to remind him of their . . . love? His mate? Her tremulous voice held the ring of truth.
He shook his head. “I don’t know anything except I’m hungry,” he rasped. “It burns. Help me.”
“I know and I’m sorry, but you have to listen to me. Leila’s going to change you into a demon, try to make you like her. She’ll tell you that you’re her mate, try to make you murder Prince Valafar and me, maybe others, too. She’s a liar, Soren. No matter what happens, don’t believe anything she says or does. Promise me.”
Confusion overwhelmed him. “None of this makes sense.”
“It will. Just keep remembering what I told you.”
A large figure materialized behind Harley. “I might be able to help.”
Harley whirled to find a tall, sexy man standing there. A man who looked like he belonged onstage at Lash, with a cascade of long, gorgeous auburn hair, green eyes, and a full, sensuous mouth. His white shirt stretched across his broad chest, and black breeches hugged impossibly long legs, all the way to his black boots. Nervous, she took a step back, and her legs bumped against the side of the bed.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Arron, Leila’s servant, for lack of a better word.”
“Then I don’t want your help,” she snapped. “I don’t trust you.”
“You probably shouldn’t, pretty little dove. But do you see anyone else offering to assist you?”
Damn. “Well, no.”
“Then step aside and let me do what I must while there’s still time.”
Harley obeyed him, concern for Soren overriding her annoyance at Arron’s overbearing attitude. She couldn’t imagine this man as anyone’s servant. Whatever Leila had over him, it must be huge. Which meant that he probably hated the Gorgon, as well. The idea renewed her spirits.
Soren eyed him, tensing as he approached. Arron placed a hand on his forehead and murmured something Harley couldn’t understand. Instantly, Soren relaxed, the tension leaving his face.
“What are you doing to him?”
“Hush, little one. I will not harm your lover.”
“Untie him. I can’t stand seeing him like this.”
“That would be foolish and dangerous. He must remain bound until he gains control again. Otherwise, he might harm us both.”
“But Soren would never hurt me!” she gasped.
“The beast within him will rage to do things he doesn’t wish, things he will not be able to control. That is how I may be able to help. My blood is ancient and of great nobility. It will heal the wounds on his throat and might temper the cruelty Leila will inflict on his mind.”
“Don’t talk around me like I’m not here,” Soren protested hoarsely. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m just so damned hungry. I need . . .” He trailed off, misery darkening his eyes.
“The bloodlust is at war with your soul. What you want doesn’t matter one shit compared to what is.”
Arron’s words filled Harley with renewed dread. “She’s really going to try to change him into some sort of monster.”
“Yes. But let’s try this, and it might help put on the brakes.” Quickly, Arron sliced a wound across his wrist with a fingernail and held it to Soren’s lips.
Soren lunged, latching onto the offering. Harley stumbled backward a couple of steps, a hand splayed over her galloping heart. Her mate swallowed eagerly, making low sounds of satisfaction deep in his throat, and Arron closed his eyes with a sigh, his own pleasure apparent. Soren wrenched away, his voice stark, blood dripping from his lips. “Now I know what drug addicts are really up against. What’s in your blood, wolf? You’re not just a shifter.”
“You’ll find out if it becomes necessary,” Arron replied gravely. “These walls have ears.”
Soren nodded. “I understand. Now what?”
“We win. The only other option ends with your death, and perhaps ours, too,” he said, indicating himself and Harley.
A jet of fear shot through Harley, and she stifled a cry. “He’s my mate and I love him. If he dies, so do I.” If everything went wrong and Soren was lost forever, they’d have to kill the man who’d become her world in such a short time. One she was just getting to know. Tears welled in her eyes. If that happened, she’d gladly die, too.
Seeing her distress, Arron went on quickly and addressed Soren. “We’re going to do everything in our power to ensure that doesn’t happen. You must cling to what little identity you still possess while making Leila believe that she’s succeeded in stripping it. You must fool her into thinking you have lost control, yet keep the beast reined in.”
“Sure.” Soren laughed, the sound brittle. “No problem.”
Arron touched the other man’s hair lightly. “Enough. Sleep now.”
At his command, Soren’s eyes drifted closed and his breathing eased into a slow rhythm. Harley watched him for a time, simply loving him. Knowing she’d never be able to live without him.
If Soren had to face death, he wouldn’t do it alone.
Her decision made, she turned to Arron. “What are you? Please tell me, while there’s no one around to overhear.”
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He turned to her, considering his answer. “I’m a wolf shifter. I have certain magical abilities. And I am half brother to Valafar, unbeknownst to many, for very good reasons.” Hopelessness darkened his lovely green eyes. “I’m also a coward.”
“No, Arron. A coward wouldn’t risk plotting against Leila.”
“If I’d taken the necessary risks ages ago, the entire Coalition might be safe now. Not only am I a coward, but I’ve placed my own selfish goals above the greater good for far too long. I can only hope it isn’t too late to rectify my mistake.”
Harley laid a hand on the sleeve of his shirt. Awesome power flowed from him like an electrical current, tingling her fingertips through the material. He looked down at her, and the sadness in his gaze touched her.
“What does she have on you, Arron?”
“My heart. My son.”
They hadn’t been prepared to be betrayed or outnumbered. They’d won, but the cost had been high. His clan’s traitors had already taken the resort, with Leila in charge. Val had a new plan in place.
Several miles from the clan’s compound, which lay smoldering in ruin, Val’s great strength finally abandoned him. He sank to his knees, pitched forward, and lay prone. Paralyzing cold enveloped him, reminding him that while he might be damned near impossible to kill, he was as susceptible to pain as any being.
An eternity passed before heavy footsteps approached. Large hands grasped and rolled him over. Zenon loomed above him, expression clouded with worry, blond hair tangled around his handsome, angelic face.
“Come on, my friend. Don’t do this. By the gods, flash-fry the evil bitch and be done with it! Every creature in the Coalition and beyond loathes her, and we all know that you would be within your right to do it.”
Val shook his head. No one, not even Zen, knew that his reason for not destroying Leila—yet—went far beyond his sense of justice. No one had thought to question how Val knew so much about the Gorgon. Or suspected it was a bond of blood that held him back. Arron.
With Leila’s death, the location of Arron’s grown son would be lost forever. Arron, once a great leader of his wolves, had fallen to her blackmail centuries ago when she’d kidnapped and imprisoned his son. She’d lusted after Arron, but he’d spurned her, earning her wrath. Grief and determination to learn where she’d hidden the young man had been his downfall.
The proud wolf had traded his soul in exchange for Leila’s promise to keep his beloved son safe. To this day, Arron had learned nothing of his whereabouts, and she continued to refuse him proof that the young man lived.
Thank the gods Leila hadn’t managed to discover his and Arron’s secret. One that would prove to be their salvation—or hasten their destruction.
That Arron was his half brother and nearly as powerful as Valafar himself.
“Well, if you insist on besting Leila fair and square, there must be a way to ensnare the she-devil without endangering yourself.”
Val made several attempts to speak through frozen lips. “No time. You brought the chains?”
Zenon’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”
“Good. First, you’ll find two small vials in my coat pocket. Take them and fill them with your blood.”
“Great gods, what are you up to?” Zen grumbled. Not really expecting an answer, he performed the task with the aid of his dagger, then sealed the containers. “What now?”
“We make Leila think you’re one of the clan who’s betrayed me and joined her ranks. Take one to the Gorgon and tell her you caught me trying to hide it when you came upon me, and that I tried to bribe you to get my blood to her captive, Soren. Slip the other to Arron and let him know the truth. If everything goes wrong, if there’s no hope, your blood is the silver bullet that will destroy them.”
“I see,” Zenon said quietly. The poison from the bite of a pure-blooded demon like Zenon would induce slow, excruciating death.
Leila wouldn’t stand a chance.
Neither would Soren.
“Take the chains and bind me.”
Zen looked at him, alarmed. “But my prince—”
“Do it.”
Not bothering to conceal his distress, Zenon did as he was ordered. It took all of Val’s willpower not to cry out as the golden bonds began to sear his flesh like acid, even through his clothing. Raw agony, like nothing he’d experienced in centuries, tore at him.
Vaguely, he was aware of Zenon lifting him into his arms, before the blackness closed over his head.
Soren awoke suddenly, again shaking with the force of terrible hunger. Need scraped at his raw insides like broken glass. Arron’s blood had quieted the beast’s fury a little, slowing his slide into total insanity. A lion tethered by a piece of yarn.
Something soft and warm pressed against him. A whiff of French vanilla teased his senses, calling to the man inside the monster. His shaft rose, along with the gnawing in his gut, and he shifted—
To find himself unbound.
He’d been freed!
The warm presence wiggled to curl into his back, snuggling in like a contented kitten. Harley. Her name whispered through his brain like a breeze through gauzy netting, concealing memories that fluttered just beyond them. Dammit, why couldn’t he remember?
She stirred again, pushing her breasts against his back, sending a bolt of heat straight to his groin. The monstrous thing inside him came awake with a vengeance. Crazed with lust.
Take her. She’s yours.
He was appalled at the direction of his thoughts. No, he corrected himself. The beast’s thoughts. Gods, he didn’t want to . . . didn’t want—
Yes, you do. Use her love for you. Bend her to your will. Destroy her!
“No,” he groaned. His cock hardened.
Oh yeah.
“Soren?” she murmured, her voice sleepy.
He turned over to face her, shaking her shoulder. “Dammit, why did you untie me?” Her eyes widened. She reached out to touch his cheek.
“I couldn’t stand seeing you tied like an animal.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because if you could honestly hurt me, then I’ve lost you. You’re my mate, and if I’ve lost you, nothing matters. I love you, Soren,” she whispered.
“Yes, you are. I love you, too.” With all his heart.
“You remember us!”
“Yeah. That much, at least. The details come and go, but it’s all going to return, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
He leaned into her, kissed the tip of her nose. Need roared through his veins once more, swamping his senses. Cupping her face, he brought his lips to hers and drank her sweet taste. Saints, he wanted to taste so much more.
Pushing Harley onto her back, he rolled with her, his body atop hers. Her arms encircled his neck, drawing him in. He kissed her hard, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, licking until he pulled back, breathless.
“I need you.”
Her lips curved. “Then have me.”
As simple—and dangerous—as that. The beast reared its head, unable to refuse the invitation.
With a growl, he grabbed the soft fabric of her T-shirt with both hands and ripped the material. The swell of her breasts heaved as she looked up at him with complete love and trust. And desire.
With the flick of a wrist, he made short work of her lacy bra, and she spilled free. He had her pinned, at his mercy, and the demon inside him laughed at her naiveté.
“Lift your hips.” He unzipped her shorts and slid them off, then removed her panties. “Now spread your legs for me.”
She lay totally exposed before him. His to do with whatever he wished. His penis throbbed in anticipation, the rabid hunger to be joined with her, gorging on her life’s blood, nearly blinding him.
“You won’t let anything happen to me,” she vowed, her belief absolute. “I love you, Soren. My mate, my love.”
Soren fought the blackness washing through his soul as the beast claimed him again. Her words were lost in a swirl of chaotic sen
sation. His need.
“I see we’ve come at just the right moment. Arron, I told you to keep them separated, did I not?” she asked in a tone that promised retribution. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Leila strolled into the room, smiling cruelly, Arron beside her. She was in human form again, Soren noted. Her black silk robe hung open, leaving nothing to the imagination, the curious vial dangling on the strap between her breasts. Arron wore his white robe in the same fashion, his expression carefully blank.
“You! What do you want from me?”
The she-demon laughed, her pointed little incisors flashing. “It’s time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for. Arron, take him. I’ll see to our sweet little darling. Shall we?”
The beast within him stretched its claws like a cat in anticipation. Ready to assuage this tearing agony in his gut, the fire between his legs.
Soren slid naked from the bed, jerking as Arron gripped his arm. He glanced at Harley, taking in her state of undress, her vulnerability. Her green eyes wide with fear. Whatever was about to happen, the last shred of humanness in his soul wished she didn’t have to suffer for it.
He let himself be led from the room on trembling legs. The chamber door shut behind them with a heavy, ominous thud as they moved down the darkened corridor.
The final battle was about to begin.
12
Harley made a concentrated effort to keep her chin up and appear defiant as Leila led them through a maze of corridors. Soren walked beside Arron, his face devoid of emotion, but she could feel the turmoil radiating from him like heat. His clenched jaw, the tense set of his shoulders betrayed him.
Their trek ended in one of the mansion’s large rooms, as richly appointed as the bedroom she and Soren had been confined in. A dozen or more candles provided the only light that cut through the shadows. Instead of a bed, a pile of fat throw pillows sat on the rug, surrounded by four ornate sofas arranged in a rectangle, as if for an audience.
