by Megan Starks
“Sorry. Reflex,” he said, offering a rueful half-smile.
It was getting harder for him to mask his dread, but she was impressed with the strength of his self-control. If he really wanted to stop her, he’d have broken free of the cuffs by now. He was trying to prove himself, but he had no idea just how much of a chance she was going to give him.
She dug around single-handedly in the leather bag. At length, she found what she was looking for, and extracted the large, slim metal ring from the interior of the bag. A gift from Maisie at the Office of the Paranormal. One that’d been hand-delivered by Lysander with a recruitment pamphlet yesterday.
With a quick flip, she twisted the dial on the transmitter in her bag. The collar warmed to the touch where she clutched the middle of the ring, the metal scrawls of an engraved spell reacting to the magic in her blood. Her fingers tingled from the contact, making her itch to drop the collar, but she kept a firm grip, her determination to see this through overriding her instinctual reaction to the spell.
“Gisele, no.” Shade tensed when he saw what she’d extracted from the bag. His face twisted with the first sign of real apprehension. “We’re not using that. How did you even—?”
She moved to slip it around his neck. Faster than she could swear, his eyes flooded completely black, his humanity drowning in darkness. Three-inch fangs—killing fangs—tore from his gums, and he growled, a low, inhuman rumbling from the back of his throat. His skin rippled as wings started to unfurl beneath the surface, preparing to burst from his back. He was going to break the cuffs and attack her.
She pushed the collar around his neck, the metal of the open prongs scraping his skin. The spell flared to life. The runes engraved in the metal burned, scorching her hand. She jolted back with a gasp, the metal ring snicking shut without so much as a seam.
Shade snarled viciously, fangs cutting into his bottom lip. He thrashed and groaned, but the collar held, draining his otherworldly strength as it severed his connection to his magic. His eyes flickered. They drained and bled and drained again, before finally all signs of his magic slipped away. He was trapped in his human form.
“It burns.” He cursed, “God Almighty, it hurts!”
“Then stop fighting it.”
“I know,” he snapped, panting and writhing on the bed. “I fucking know. Maybe you forgot, but I wore one of these recently—for you. Damn it, Gigi, I can’t believe you put this on me.”
“Did you think I’d really leave you the chance to break free?” She shrugged, digging through the bag once again before pulling out a long coil of heavy, steel chains.
“Shit,” Shade grunted. Muscles in his arms and back corded as he tested the cuffs. But without his magic, he had little hope of breaking them. The collar cooled and gleamed like silvered glass as he gave in to its control.
Gisele looped the length of chain through the front of the slim silver collar, careful not to touch the cooling metal as she worked. She yanked the chain tight, drawing it forward down the length of the mattress and over the front of the bed to loop through the bottom of the frame, around the metal runner. As she pulled the length tighter, Shade was stretched farther over the mattress. He cursed again, wriggling his fingers in the air.
“Life choices,” he gasped, apparently lamenting his.
She tossed the remaining length of chain down the line of the bed, underneath it, wrapping it around the metal frame at the foot and bringing it up to secure between his cuffed hands. Then she pulled down and back to tighten the length, tugging on his arms to force him taut against the mattress before she padlocked the chain in place.
Satisfied he was at least temporarily subdued, she sat on the edge of the bed in the cool, quiet room and began her questioning.
“What are you doing on this side of the Gates, Shade? Who’re you working for? Marcel? That woman—Felicitisia Luciferes—and the elghoul? What are you involved in?”
He pressed his lips together in a hard line, silent for the span of several beats before he forced himself to relax against his bonds. He closed his eyes and his breathing sped, ready for what would come next. “I can’t tell you that,” he answered, voice jagged. Expectant.
“Do you even want to?”
He opened his eyes to look at her, questioning and raw, the irises a pale silver almost as lovely as the smooth metal that banded his neck. The shard of hope she saw in the back of them tightened something deep inside her chest. “Of course I do.”
“I thought you might say that.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
This was why he’d agreed when she’d presented him with the cuffs. He might not have planned to end up so completely at her mercy, but he’d wanted her to go through with it. He’d needed her to see that she couldn’t torture the answers out of him—even if he desperately wanted to give her the information she asked for.
“The truth is,” she told him, “I didn’t come here to torture you. I came here to look for your contract.”
A strangled sound broke from his lips, and he stiffened, fighting the urge to struggle. He shuddered and gasped against the mattress, straining to remain still. The look he shot her was near frantic, fragile and pleading. Whatever battle he was fighting with himself—he was losing it.
“Want me to find your contract?” she asked, looking down at him.
Yes.
She could read the answer in his too-wild eyes, his gasped and held breath; it was written in the pulse point throbbing in his throat. But he didn’t say it.
“Don’t. I can’t—” he begged but choked when he tried to go on. “I’m not a good guy,” he spat, fighting against the words even as he said them.
“Compelled to stop me?” she pressed, still watching him, assessing his reaction.
He groaned and wrestled against his bonds, fighting the collar in earnest again. It flared bright, white hot against his skin. “I can’t tell you that,” he panted.
“Mm. Beast warned me that I should kill you,” she told him as she stood and brushed her thighs off. She retrieved a pair of his rumpled, dirty jeans from the carpet, sliding a thick leather belt free from the loops.
Gaping, he followed her every movement with clear gray eyes.
“But I’m going to help you for the same reason I helped him. Bite on this if you can’t stop the urge to cast a spell.”
If he truly couldn’t hold back, she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t end up breaking the collar. She’d seen how he’d cracked the one at the Office of the Paranormal.
Shade took the folded belt in his mouth, groaning in frustration as she left him. He jerked and rocked, twisting against the mattress as he fought against his bonds. The more he struggled, the more the bed bounced and creaked, but whether it embarrassed or hurt him, he still couldn’t stop himself.
When she returned from tearing his kitchen apart—she’d had a feeling where she might find the contract—he’d worn himself weak, rolling his head to look up at her in relief. She scratched her horns, abashed to find that he’d dragged the entire bed partway toward the door. Spitting the belt from his mouth and twisting to one side, Shade lolled exhausted against the mattress as he watched her.
Now that she had the document in hand, he seemed in control of his actions again.
“That’s it.” His chest rose and fell harshly as he tried to catch his breath. Sweat glistened on the side of his neck. “How’d you know I’d have to stop you? You tricked me into letting you tie me down.”
She grinned. “I didn’t know you’d be compelled about it, but I also didn’t think you’d just hand it over if I asked.” She flopped down onto the bed next to him, closer than she’d been to him in days. She was beginning to feel more at ease now that he was being open with her, or as open as he could be. Being this close to him, it felt familiar—right. “Good thing you didn’t take out a safety deposit box,” she teased, and he made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a growl.
He shut his eyes, breathing deep, likely trying to slow his ha
rd-thumping heart. “I thought you were going to make me pay for the things I said. Thought you were going to make it hurt.”
“I get these feelings sometimes. Most times they turn out to be right,” she answered absently, scanning the title of his contract. “Didn’t need to torture you to realize you wanted to tell me something but couldn’t.”
“Yeah?” he asked, watching her from his position on his side. He licked the corner of his mouth. “Get any other feelings about me?”
She couldn’t tell if he was flirting with her or trying to bait her. She smiled but didn’t answer, blushing as she flipped open the first page of the contract.
The AC unit kicked on, blowing cool air against the back of Gisele’s neck. It brushed cold prickles along her spine.
“This contract is about me,” she said, with mounting unease. “How can this contract be about me?”
Her question was met with a tense stretch of silence from Shade. To be safe, she hadn’t wanted to release him until she’d read the whole contract. He hadn’t been happy, but had accepted it with minimal complaint, watching with growing nervousness as she’d read the first few sections. For the past several minutes while she’d attempted to parse the convoluted legalese, he’d been lying very still, appearing more trapped than when he’d thought he was in for a night of torture at her hands.
“This woman—the same one I signed a contract with—she sent you to guard me? Why? For what gain? You’ve been on her side this whole time. What do you want from me?”
Muscles tense, he flinched, concern deepening the color of his eyes, and she felt certain he would have bolted if he hadn’t been chained down.
Now was the time for hard questions, it seemed.
“Shade. Give me something,” she begged, wanting to trust him. She just needed something to cling to, anything he could offer her. “Please.”
“I can’t.” He let out a short, shaky breath. “I can’t explain it,” he offered, voice thick with the need for her to understand him. “But believe me, I—I’m not a good guy. Fuck. That’s not—I mean, I—I’m not a good guy. No, no, damn it! I’m not a good guy.” He choked on a disbelieving laugh, hanging his head in exasperation. “Oh, fuck me,” he swore, defeated. “That cock-sucking bitch.”
She touched a hand to his shoulder to calm him. His face flushed with flaring temper, and he pinned her with sharp, clear-gray eyes.
“I would tell you. But there’s nothing I can say to prove myself, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied, fighting a growing sense of worry. But she kept her voice soft, hoping to alleviate some of his frustration. He’d said he wanted her to trust him, so she would try. “Okay. We’ll go over every detail then; we’ll work it out, together.” She flipped through several pages to find a specific section of the contract. “Here. You signed the agreement a month before you started at Warrick’s.”
He watched her, guarded but also the tiniest bit hopeful.
“On this page, here—you were given my name, photos, my address and work information—it refers to the information specifically as ‘proof of life,’ why? Why would you need proof of my existence?”
“Gisele…” he started, reluctant, but she kept on, ignoring his protest.
“This section covers the contractor’s agreement to provide you a ‘legal and binding’ excuse to remain in daily proximity to me. That would be your job—the one you conned your way into—right? But first it outlines a means for escaping Hell, for safely fleeing your owner.” The thought made her sad. “You really were a slave, then. Is that why you signed this, for a chance to be free?”
“No,” he answered quietly. “Not free. There’s no price I could ever pay for that.”
The wind whooshed right out of her, his words as painful as a punch to the gut.
“Shade, I’m so sorry.” Her heart hurt for him. “I might not know much about you, but I know you don’t deserve this.”
His forehead pinched as he studied her. “There was a time I thought I deserved worse,” he admitted. “Maybe I still do.”
That couldn’t be true. She couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he could deserve a life spent in slavery, at the whim of another. Without thinking, she dropped a hand to brush through his hair, and he let her, closing his eyes and relaxing into her touch. He blew out a slow, hot breath. “I keep thinking it’s not real,” he said, more to himself than for conversation. “That I’m trapped in a new punishment.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, but he clenched his jaw, refusing to answer.
It was the same as when he’d let slip that he’d been locked in an underground cell. Then and now, her breath iced in her lungs.
Guilt overwhelmed her for whatever part she’d played in his situation, unwitting or not. But she felt even worse for what she was doing to him now.
“I don’t understand why you would sign this,” she confessed.
Without opening his eyes, Shade said, “I would love to tell you, Gigi. Believe me. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you the things I can’t.”
“You’ve agreed to an impossible price.” Worry and fear clogged her throat. “You breach this contract and you’re enslaved to the contractor for the rest of your life, Shade. Worse, you get nothing in return for guarding me. You wanted to flee your master that badly?”
What was one master in exchange for another if the first one was truly awful? Was that how bad it had been for him? He’d accept anything, any risk, for even a temporary escape?
He shook his head, frowning. “No, Gigi, that’s not why—ah—shit, I’m not a g—”
She kissed him to keep him from saying it.
It wasn’t something she’d planned on; somehow she’d just moved forward and then there they were, mouths crushed together with a bruising need before she eased back, their lips parting and pressing together and apart and together again. He half-groaned, half-growled into her mouth and lifted his face to her, straining against the chains to press further into the kiss. She cupped his face, and he broke from her lips, panting before kissing her again. He poured all that he was into the act of kissing her, of licking and sucking, nipping and gasping ragged breaths. She bit his bottom lip and pulled back, breaking from him at last.
“I know,” she breathed, heart shuddering in her chest. “You keep telling me you’re a bad guy. The contract must have a compulsive gag order. Any attempts to talk about its details come out instead as a phrase of the contractor’s choosing, right?”
“Bitch has a twisted sense of humor,” he confirmed with a wry smile. “Gigi…”
Even though she knew it was a bad idea, she kissed him again.
He deepened the kiss with his need, eager for her. She felt his face flush hot beneath her hands.
She wanted to crawl on top of him, straddle him, and take things further. It was all she could do to hold back.
“Gigi.” He broke the kiss to murmur against her skin. “I’m not spying on you. I wouldn’t hurt you. I swear on my life. I know it doesn’t mean much, but—”
She stole his lips, using their third kiss to shut him up for a second time.
“I know,” she whispered, nose nuzzled against his cheek. “You said you were trying to help me. You protected me from the elghoul. Three times.”
She pulled back to study him, taking in the deep rise and fall of his chest. He looked back at her, for once unguarded and so filled with longing that she wondered how it could have taken her so long to see him for who he really was—for what he really wanted. She’d been so focused on her feelings of distrust, caught up in the fact that he was hiding something from her, that she’d neglected and ignored all the other things she’d felt.
“I believe you. But you also said you were going to kill me.”
His face fell. “Your contract. She tricked me. If I follow you into Hell, he’ll find me. And if he orders it, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
She didn’t have to wonder who ‘he’ was. He could only be
referring to the master he’d escaped from.
“But if you don’t go, you’ll be breaking your contract. You have to guard me, no matter what.”
Some of the bitterness and resentment returned to his face, and she regretted having brought it up. “Like I said, I was tricked. I should have known better, but there’s nothing else I could’ve done. When I saw you were—I couldn’t not—fuck, I can’t—I’m not a good guy.”
“We’ll find a way to fix this,” she promised.
But even she didn’t believe it.
15
Shade rubbed at the burn mark on his neck, relieved to be freed from the collar at last. “Well, that went better than I thought it would.”
“Sorry,” she said, feeling dirty. “I needed to know for sure.”
“No, it was my fault. I stonewalled you even when it made you distrust me. But I didn’t know how else to handle it. I’d thought you—when we were—” He struggled with the words before managing, “You didn’t know me.”
But I should have. The implication was so obvious, and the words were on the tip of her tongue. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he kissed her again, short-lived and shaky, like he was scared she’d change her mind at any moment. He couldn’t seem to look at her after, crippled with a strange sense of self-consciousness. It didn’t fit with the arrogant, closed coworker she’d come to know.
She ran her fingers over the scratchy fabric of the mattress, tracing a stitched seam. “You said you’ve never lived on the surface before. You grew up in Eden, right?”
Choosing his words carefully, he said, “My blood-horde lives there.”
Which might be as close to a ‘yes’ as he could get.
“It’s just that,” she licked her lips, “I’ve been having these strange dreams, and I don’t—” She broke off mid-confession, skin hot, feeling ridiculous. Shining angels, what was she even saying?
He tensed. “What sort of dreams?”
She thought about telling him. But when she tried to figure out how to explain it, a blush crawled up her neck, setting fire to her cheeks. Dreams where he’d loved her? Dreams where she’d died? Dreams of a distant time and place? “Impossible ones. The kind that make me think someone’s messing with my head.”
