by Jo Carlisle
She slid her arms into it, securing the belt around her waist while he did the same. “Now what? Are we just going to walk through a solid wooden door?”
“Even better.”
Bracing his feet apart, Soren held one arm in front of him at chest level, palm down. Harley was about to make a skeptical comment when the door began to shake on its hinges, as though a fierce hurricane screamed beyond the planks.
She gasped as the door bowed outward like a balloon, stretching, straining. The wood shattered with a deafening boom, like a cannon shot. Dust and splinters blew outward, into the corridor beyond. Crap! The Gorgon’s entire army must’ve heard!
Soren held up his hand, flexing his fingers. He looked at her and grinned. “Pretty cool, huh?”
That was her Soren. Impish, like a mischievous boy with a new toy. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away furiously. This wasn’t the time to think about that beautiful light giving in to the darkness. About the horrible promise she’d made to him if the beast won.
“Come on.” Taking her hand, Soren led her into the dim corridor and paused. “Left or right?”
“Take your pick. I’m completely turned around.”
“There’s got to be a way out.”
He turned to the right, moving stealthily, pulling her along in his wake. When Harley realized what he’d said, she drew up short, yanking on his hand.
“Wait! We can’t leave Valafar behind to face her alone!”
Soren spun around. “We have to. If I stay, Leila will force me to extract the secret of how he can be killed.”
Every instinct shouted to run, to get Soren as far away from this hellhole as possible. But the solution wasn’t that easy.
“If you go, she could torture him forever, literally. Could you really condemn another to suffer the same fate you made me promise to help you avoid?” she said softly. “And this is a guy who’s trying to save your hide.”
He raked a hand though his hair and dropped his gaze to the floor. “Damn.”
“She won’t quit, honey. If you get away, she’ll enjoy having the prince at her mercy. She’ll amuse herself for a while by making him suffer, but the novelty will wear thin. A power-hungry bitch like her will want him dead eventually. And when she tires of playing with him, she’ll hunt you down again.”
“Because I carry the mark of Azrael. We’ll be right back where we started,” he finished, miserable.
“Yes.” She touched his arm. “This has to end. Maybe you can find a way to help Valafar without her catching on, and then he can help us. It might be the only solution.”
He looked away, fists clenched. “It’s a long shot at best.”
“We don’t have anything else.”
“I know, I just . . . I want to run. Pretend none of this is happening. When I’m alone with you, I can keep the beast under control. I want our life to begin,” he whispered.
Our life. Not his. Deep down, he still carried her in his heart. “Can you use some of that magic of yours to pinpoint where they’ve taken Valafar?”
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, scenting the air. After a few seconds, he opened them again and nodded, his black gaze troubled. “I think so. But, Harley, from this point on, don’t believe anything you see or hear. I can’t hold out much longer. Don’t trust anyone, especially me.”
Fear zinged through her. “Then who’ll help me?”
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes, as though memorizing her face. “You.”
“Against a bunch of crazy vampires and demons?”
“You don’t have a choice.” Soren grasped her hand and turned with a heavy sigh, leading the search for the doomed prince.
Aldric became aware of a hand on his shoulder. Shaking him hard. He moaned and opened his eyes to see a large demon hovering over him, and automatically reached for a sword he hadn’t carried in ages.
“Easy, Lord Aldric,” the demon said, eyeing his condition. He checked the bandages on Aldric’s leg as he spoke. “Do you know where you are?”
“No.” He thought. “I was on my way to quell an uprising between two packs of shifters when I was ambushed by a few of your kind.”
“Rogues,” the demon spat. “Traitors. Valafar will have their heads—if he can be rescued, along with your brother Soren and his mate.”
Fear made Aldric lightheaded. “Tell me what’s happened. All of it.”
When the demon had finished speaking, he was numb with rage. Grief. “Luc has not been found?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then he lives. I won’t believe otherwise.”
The demon nodded. “Still, something has to be done about Leila first. The traitors must die.”
“They will, believe me,” he replied coldly. “I’ll need to sneak onto the estate and retrieve our swords.”
“Leila has Soren’s, but I know of a couple of double agents who can get the others.”
“I’ll need the other two swords, and someone I can trust to carry Luc’s.” His throat damned near closed at the thought of Luc being gone. Maybe forever.
“You’ll look no further than Zenon, then. He’s the best, aside from the prince himself.”
“Find him and bring him here. We have a battle to win.”
“Consider it done.”
Soren led them through a dark wing of the mansion. Torches had been lit at intervals along the gray walls and cast a ghostly dance of light and shadow across the vast space. He paused before a door, placing one hand on it as though testing it for something, then opened it. The gloomy depths bristled with torture devices straight out of a ghoulish horror flick. The difference was that these were real, capable of killing someone slowly and inflicting great pain while doing it.
She couldn’t help but notice Soren flinch and avert his eyes from a spiderweb contraption in the middle of the room. On the floor underneath it, a black pool of something resembling blood marked where a man might’ve been suspended and tortured. Oh, gods.
She touched his arm. “What did she do to you?”
He shook his head. “It’s in the past.”
Staring at the stain, Harley decided he was right. Neither of them could change what he’d already suffered. She could only pray for a swift end to the nightmare.
They heard a low moan from a far corner of the chamber, followed by raised voices. Soren snatched her wrist and bent to hiss in her ear.
“Remember what I told you. I’m not the same vampire you loved anymore. Your only priority is to get yourself out alive, whatever you have to do.”
“And you, too.”
Sorrow and regret flickered in his eyes before he hardened his gaze. He tightened his grip and led her deeper into the chamber, looking for the source of the noise. His search ended at the door to another room, this one slightly ajar. Inside, they could see Leila and Arron standing over Zenon.
The triumphant sneer on Leila’s face marred it with ugliness. “Get up, you worthless dog, and tell me the truth! You expect me to believe that you found Prince Valafar—the most powerful demon on earth—lying on the ground, helpless as a swaddling babe? Do you think me a complete idiot?”
“Yes! I mean, no! I—”
“Arron, he needs more persuasion.”
With a flick of his wrist, Arron sent a blue bolt into the man’s prone body. Harley watched in horror as her friend screamed, twisting, damp blond hair tangling around his face. When his pain subsided, he lay panting on his side. He saw Harley and shook his head almost imperceptibly, as though trying to convey a silent message.
“I’m telling the truth,” he wheezed. “The prince was drained when I found him, but I think I know why.”
“Talk fast, Zenon of the demons, or I’ll have Arron separate your head from your shoulders.”
“Valafar was on his way to our clan to gather reinforcements to defeat you when the traitors ambushed him and he was badly injured. He was in no shape to fight me when I bound him
and brought him here.”
“I think Zenon speaks the truth,” Arron said.
“But it doesn’t explain why he would bring his leader to us, trussed like a game hen. I don’t know you, so why would you seek an alliance with me against your prince?”
Zenon pushed up to a sitting position, gritting his teeth as he winced in pain. “I don’t seek an alliance. But I am no friend of Valafar. He meddles in my private affairs instead of ruling the Southern Coalition as he should, leaving us to fight for our survival. Ensnaring us in this mess with you, which is none of our concern, was the last straw. I want him neutralized, and I don’t care how you do it.”
Zen was lying, Harley knew. He and Val were the closest of friends. What were they up to?
“And you seek no payment?” Leila asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“What would I accept from you?” Zenon said coldly. “Coin is of no value to me, and my clan would starve before accepting food from a Gorgon. No, I simply wish to leave Valafar as your captive, and the only recompense will be the satisfaction I feel when he suffers.”
Harley studied Leila, wondering how she would react to Zenon’s bold slur. He’d practically said she would poison his entire family given the chance. Harley didn’t doubt the accusation for a second.
Leila paced, robes swirling in her wake, and considered Zenon’s words. Suddenly she turned, her smile malicious. “Demon, if that is the only payment you desire, then I shall do my best to reward you. Go now and relish the moment Prince Valafar’s screams of torment reach the Coalition. Arron, show our guest out.”
Arron helped Zenon to his feet, then took his arm and steered him toward the door as Harley and Soren stepped back. After casting a furtive glance at Leila, Zenon reached into his pants pocket and pulled something out, hidden in his big hand. Without breaking stride, he handed it to Arron, who palmed the object and slipped it into his own pocket.
The men brushed past them and left without acknowledging their presence. Soren dragged Harley into the room, making the Gorgon aware of their arrival. He strode to the black-haired demon and she spun, brows arched in wary surprise. Leila, wary?
“Soren, my love. I don’t suppose I need to ask how you managed to free yourself from the chamber.”
He let go of Harley and stepped so close to Leila that she was forced to look up at him. His lips turned up in a sexy smile. “Darling, you made me, so you have to know it will take more than stone walls to hold me. Shame on you, leaving me hungry.”
Harley rubbed her wrist and backed away. He’d dismissed her, just like that, as though she’d been nothing more than a plaything to keep him satisfied in Leila’s absence. She was losing him to the darkness again. Or was he pretending? She couldn’t tell.
He seized Leila, pulling her hard against him, crushing his mouth down on hers. She twined her arms around his neck and returned the kiss hungrily, as if to devour him whole. Harley could only stare, helpless. Whether it was an act on Soren’s part or the real thing didn’t make it hurt less.
Leila jerked back, her face angry. “You’ve been with her. I can smell her on you. It’s time for her to die.”
“Yes, I fucked her while I drank,” he murmured into her mouth, nipping at her lip. “But we won’t kill her yet. She amuses me. Admit it—you can’t wait to see our little human slave squirming between me and Arron. Maybe even joining in the fun.”
Harley went numb. In front of that bitch? He couldn’t be serious.
“Mmm,” she groaned, arching against him. Her hand found the bulge tenting his robe and rubbed. “You are a wicked one, my love. All right. We’ll keep her alive for our pleasure, until we tire of her.”
“I thought you might see things my way.” He brushed his fingers across a taut nipple poking eagerly against silk. “Now, darling, I believe we have a date with a prince.”
Leila grinned. “This way.”
The witch took his arm and he went with her. Glancing at Harley, he nodded for her to follow. He avoided her silent question, his eyes darting quickly away to stare straight ahead. But not before she caught the profound sadness in their black depths.
And she knew.
Soren had just charmed Leila to the roots of her witchy black hair. He’d used her own weapon of sex against her. And saved my life. How far would Soren have to take this depraved game in order to defeat Leila?
Harley trailed in their wake as they passed into yet another room. She couldn’t imagine how she’d ever find her way out if forced to run.
Her thoughts scattered at the sight of a tall male lying on a marble altar, bound in chains of gold, battered black wings hanging off on either side of him. Valafar! The chains had burned right through his clothing to the skin. His black pants were soaked with blood. Sooty lashes rested against pale, hollowed cheeks, and ebony hair fanned around his shoulders. Except for Soren, he was the most breathtakingly beautiful man she’d ever seen.
“Soren,” Leila purred, “meet Prince Valafar, whose impotent rule has just come to a tragic end.”
Harley tried to melt as far into the shadows as possible while Soren strode to the altar. No one seemed to be paying attention to her at the moment, and she preferred to keep it that way.
Soren stood looking down on the prince’s still form with a slight frown, pretending never to have met him. Or perhaps he really didn’t recall. “This is our kick-ass, bleeding-heart demon? How pathetic.”
“Valafar is more than eleven thousand years old—so ancient no one even knows his continent of origin. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him,” Arron put in from the doorway, his expression placid.
“Spare me,” she snarled. “Come, my mate. I’ve waited centuries to learn the secret of how to destroy Valafar, and I’ll wait no longer. Find out how to destroy the bastard and do it now!”
Soren’s fists clenched, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “I told you—I’ll need his blood to read his secrets.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Leila huffed, impatient. “Will this be enough?” From the folds of her robe, she brought forth a small vial similar to the one she used to wear around her neck. “Zenon said that our exalted guest attempted to bribe him to bring this to you, a vial of Valafar’s blood. It was supposed to strengthen you against me.”
“Hmph. Such a small amount might’ve helped Soren . . . but its only effect on me would be equal to a shot of good whiskey. Save it for a midnight snack.” He grinned. “I need to consume a massive portion to strip his secrets from his brain, and that means taking it directly.”
“Well, what in the hell are you waiting for?”
Soren knelt by Valafar’s side, and Harley’s heart pounded. He wouldn’t betray the prince and condemn the entire Coalition to suffer the death and destruction of Leila’s rule. He couldn’t.
But the beast would.
He smoothed back the prince’s hair, tilted his head back to expose his neck. He hesitated only a second, then sank his fangs deep into Valafar’s throat. The prince’s eyes opened on a strangled gasp and he moaned, arching into his captor.
Soren raised his head, chuckling knowingly. “That feels good, doesn’t it? Give yourself to the rush, to me. Give up your secret.”
“No,” Valafar whispered. “Don’t—”
He bent again and drank, the seductive dance heating the place between Harley’s legs even as it horrified her. The prince could do nothing to shield the onslaught on his mind and body. He groaned his passion, heedless of the chains burning his flesh. Soren held tight, sealing them together, swallowing his life’s blood. Stealing the secret.
At last, Valafar went limp. Soren withdrew his fangs and placed a very gentle kiss on the prince’s forehead. “Belladonna,” he said.
Something flickered in the prince’s eyes so fast, Harley thought she might have imagined it.
“By the gods, don’t do this.” Lines of anguish had deepened grooves around Valafar’s mouth. “Soren would never have betrayed me.” He closed his eyes and fell si
lent again.
“Belladonna?” Leila interrupted. “A flower? What the devil are you talking about?”
Soren rose and turned to face the group. “It’s a plant that’s deadly to humans and other creatures such as werewolves, but harmless to immortals. In most cases.”
Leila’s face lit with excitement. “And the prince is different how?”
“None but the gods of Olympus are allowed to enjoy the purplish-black fruit of the plant. Even though this demon was granted immortality at the Temple of the Gods, as the son of an incubus and a mere human woman, he’s strictly forbidden to partake of belladonna.”
A slow, evil smile curved her lips. “You mean, Prince Valafar can be poisoned? Simple as that?”
“Yes. What’s more, should he willingly ingest the fruit at the temple itself, the gods will take personal offense. His death will be excruciating, darling.”
“Eat the poison willingly?” She frowned. “Even if we take him there, why would he do that?”
Soren tipped her face up to his with one finger. “Think, love. Who means more to Valafar than anyone ever has?”
“Zenon? But the demon betrayed him.”
“Even so, Valafar is loyal. He won’t allow any harm to come to him—or to this human woman, Harley. He has a strange fondness for her.”
“You’re right. Arron! Take several of my guards to fetch Zenon. Tell him that if he holds out hope for any of their lives, he’ll come without a fight.” Arron nodded and left. She parted Soren’s robe, ran her palms down his chest and stomach. He growled as she cupped his balls, stroking. His cock hardened in her capable hand. “You’ll prove yourself to me tonight, won’t you, my pet?”
“Yes, anything. Tell me.”
“After Arron takes Zenon to the temple, we’ll join them with the fallen prince and our little human slave. And we’ll savor each of them . . . before you kill them all. A feast fit for a king, don’t you think?”
Harley fought to breathe as his hands slid to Leila’s breasts. He moaned as her nemesis stroked him, then looked boldly at Harley and smiled. Pumped on sex and evil.
