The Devil's Pit

by Naomi Martin

“S-stop,” he wheezes. “Stop.”

  “Do you understand?” I demand. “You are not to go anywhere near Raven again.”

  “I understand,” he rasps. “I get it. Fuck. Let go of me.”

  I release his shirt and he drops to the ground in a limp, bloody heap. I’m immediately on my feet, scurrying back to Raven. She’s lying on the floor and looks to have fainted, so I gently scoop her up and carry her back to her cell where I lay her down on her bed as softly as I can. She murmurs as I brush her hair away from her face. I look down at her, feeling my heart thundering inside of me. To think of what could have happened, what Clint might have done—it makes me want to go back out there and finish what I started.

  “What happened?”

  I never heard him approach, but when I glance over my shoulder and see Zane standing in the doorway, I’m not surprised. Ever since he mocked me for it, I’ve been working on sharpening my senses. Getting more in tune with them. Zane, though, moves softer than a breath of wind. The son of a bitch.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I snap. “No thanks to you.”

  “I was in my cell,” he says defensively. “I didn’t hear what had happened until you already had the situation in hand.”

  “Convenient.”

  It feels like Zane is about to argue the point further, but he wisely holds back. Instead, he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, obviously fighting his urge to tear me to pieces. I honestly don’t know who would win in a fight between us. I’ve got both weight and strength on him, but he’s got that unnatural vampire speed which could cancel out my advantages. Frankly, this probably isn’t the appropriate time to test the theory, anyway.

  “Is she all right?” he asks.

  “She will be,” I say. “Between dealing with whatever Keene and Fry did to her and then having to deal with Clint, she’s probably just physically and emotionally wiped out.”

  Zane steps over to the bed and, with a wave of his thin, dexterous hands, he produces the razor blade as if out of thin air. But when he moves his wrist over her mouth, I grab hold of it and growl.

  “Get that shit away from her.”

  “It will help her heal,” he replies smoothly. “Just as it helped Elliot heal.”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  We engage in a tense stare down for a long, silent moment. I don’t know why I’m objecting so hard. I know a few drops of his blood will take away her pain and suffering. And, like Elliot, she isn’t going to suffer any ill effects. I mean, aside from being a bit more pretentious than usual for a few days after the fact, Elliot’s been fine.

  But for whatever reason, the thought of Raven ingesting any of this vampire’s blood turns my stomach. Like it would somehow taint or sully her. And to me, she’s perfect as she is. I don’t think the vampire blood would change her, but I don’t know for certain—and I don’t want to take that chance.

  “Listen, Gray—”

  “No, you listen, Zane,” I cut him off. “You weren’t there when she needed you most. I was. So, you don’t need to be here now.”

  “So that’s what this is about,” the vampire chuckles. “Making certain you get all the credit.”

  “Fuck off, vampire.”

  “Are you really so insecure, bear boy?”

  “No, I’m just really sick of you, blood sucker.”

  He remains where he is, glowering at me. I can see that he wants to fight me and is teetering on the edge of doing it. And truthfully, I’d welcome a good scrap right about now. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ll admit that I’m not actually pissed at the vamp. Deep down, I know this isn’t his fault and he didn’t actually do anything wrong. He would have helped, had he been there.

  But I’m angry. I’m angry at Keene and Fry for putting her through this, and I’m pissed at Clint—and would really like to kill him. I can’t give into that impulse, though. The best I can do is beat the shit out of him. The guards couldn’t care less if we beat each other bloody. There really are few rules around here, and they sometimes change with the mood of a particular guard. But the one constant is that killing another inmate is definitely crossing a line.

  If I do that, I risk being shipped over to the adult prison, which at one time wouldn’t have bothered me. But now, if I’m sent over there, I’ll be ripped away from Raven forever and I can’t bear the thought of that. So, I just have to hope my warning sticks and I guess, if it doesn’t, I’ll have to reinforce that lesson.

  Zane remains where he is, and a low growl passes my throat. This isn’t his fault but he makes for an easy target. I clench my jaw, glaring at him through narrowed eyes, and he gives me a smirk.

  “Is this really the time for that?” he asks.

  “Time for what?”

  “For you to pretend there’s some conflict between us, just because I’m vampire and you’re shifter,” he says smoothly.

  “Pretend?” I sneer. “Our people aren’t meant to co-exist.”

  “According to whom?”

  I turn on the chair and clench my jaw as I stare at him. The anger in me is flaring higher and hotter than a bonfire, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from launching at him and tearing him to pieces. Or at least trying to.

  But he is right about one thing—this is not the right time for that. Right now, my focus needs to be on Raven.

  “You need to go,” I say.

  “I have just as much right to be here as—”

  I’m on my feet so quickly that I knock my chair over behind me. It hits the floor with a clatter and I’m in his face, our noses scant inches apart. Zane, though, doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move an inch. He just stands there, staring at me with a smug smirk on his face.

  “Zane, get the fuck out of here,” I say, my voice low. “Let’s not do this here. Not right now.”

  His unnervingly blue eyes slide from me to Raven, then back again. He doesn’t say a word but turns and leaves the cell. Reaching down, I pick up the chair and set it right. But when I resume my seat and look at Raven, I’m surprised to see her icy blue eyes glittering in the light of the cell, focused on me.

  “You saved me,” she says, her voice hoarse.

  I take her hand, squeezing it gently as I look deeply into her eyes, hoping she can feel my sincerity. Hoping she can feel the surge of emotion that’s coursing through me. In that moment, as we sit together, I’m more confident than I ever have been that Raven is supposed to be mine. That she belongs to me—and I to her. Some piece of our souls are bound to one another’s.

  “I will always fight for you,” I promise her.

  She gives me a weak smile as a tear spills from the corner of her eye. She still looks drawn, pale, and exhausted. I reach out and gently brush the spill of dark hair from her forehead. She feels warm to the touch and her skin is clammy. It seems that even keeping her eyes open, let alone speaking, is a Herculean effort for her.

  “It’s not Zane’s fault, you know,” she says.

  I nod. “I know.”

  “And I’m sure he would have been there to help if—”

  “I know he would have,” I say gently.

  She gives me a small, wavering smile. “Maybe you should try to get along then, instead of lashing out at him.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  She squeezes my hand in return. “I care about all three of you,” she says, her voice growing weaker. “I want you to all get along. You’re all important to me.”

  I want to explain things to her, tell her about the history of vampires and shifters and make her understand why we’re just not biologically capable of being friends. Our species have been at war for millennia. Conflict between us is just baked into our DNA. But, as I look into her eyes, I know that this isn’t the time to get into it. That history is irrelevant right now. All that matters is Raven.

  Her eyes flutter and I can see the exhaustion taking hold of her. She’s fighting to stay awake, but it’s a fight she’s starting to lose.

  “You should get som
e rest,” I suggest.

  She nods. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “You never have to thank me,” I tell her. I will always fight for you.”

  She drifts off, and it’s not long before her breath is slow and even as she slips into a deep sleep. I watch her closely, taking in her delicate features. Unable to resist, I reach out and run the tips of my fingers along her skin, relishing the softness of it.

  A smile touches my lips as I sit back in the chair and watch her sleep until the alarm sounds for me to return to my own cell for nighttime lockdown. It’s only when her cell door is shut firmly behind me that I walk toward the stairs. I know this fight with Clint is not over yet—and there’s so much residual anger still coursing through my veins, there’s a part of me that can’t wait to finish it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Raven

  After dinner, I sit at a table in the corner of the common area with Zane and Elliot. It’s been a couple of days since my testing session with Keene and I’m starting to feel better. My strength is starting to return. And I feel nothing but hostility and rage coming from Clint and his group of friends sitting at a table on the far side of the room.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Elliot says, noticing Clint. “After the thrashing Gray gave him, I don’t think he’ll be bothering you anytime soon.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” I reply.

  Zane gives me a long, serious look. “We will not let him so much as breathe on you, Raven,” he tells me, his voice serious. “I will kill him myself.”

  I look around the common area, a small frown pulling the corners of my mouth down. I see all the usual faces—except for one.

  “Where is Gray?” I ask. “He disappeared after dinner.”

  I see Elliot and Zane exchange a glance that, to me, looks filled with concern. It sets my already ragged nerves on edge and I look from Elliot to Zane, and back again.

  “What?” I ask. “What is it?”

  As if in response to my question, Sherman and several of his guards arrive, marching Gray through the common room. He’s been shackled and bound and walks with his head down, as if defeated. My first thought is that he’s going to be punished for what he did to Clint, which touches off an inferno of rage inside of me. I jump to my feet and am already moving toward the procession when I hear Zane and Elliot calling for me.

  I run over and stand in front of Sherman. He glares down at me, his eyes narrowed and his face dark with anger.

  “Get out of my way, little girl,” he scowls.

  “Where are you taking him?” I spit. “He didn’t do anything—”

  “Raven,” Gray says. “It’s okay. I’m not in trouble.”

  I look at him, puzzled, and he gives me a small, tight smile. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but it’s giving me a bad feeling. Sherman reaches out to push me aside.

  “I said, get out of the way—”

  I step closer to him, glaring into his eyes even though I have to crane my neck upward to do it.

  “Or what? You’ll try to rape me again?” I hiss. “We both know how that ended last time. Don’t we, needle dick? Has the swelling gone down yet?”

  Sherman’s body tightens and his face darkens as he glowers at me. I wouldn’t say I’m back to one hundred percent yet, but I’m feeling a lot stronger than before. More than that, I feel my power swirling inside of me. I feel it building and strengthening. The collar starts to grow warm around my neck, but I still feel that familiar, comfortable heat rising up and spreading out within me.

  I’m so caught up in feeling my power building again that I’m not paying attention when Sherman reaches out and grabs hold of my throat. He squeezes it tight, cutting off my breath. I hear Clint and his boys chuckling and egging Sherman on, telling him to snap my neck. The look of fury on Gray’s face would curdle milk, but Sherman’s men hold him back—no doubt with a little assistance from the silver chains etched with runes that are wrapped around him.

  My vision is beginning to waver and I can’t draw a breath. My ears fill with the sound of my own heart beating and the hooting and hollering of Clint and his boys. But then, Zane and Elliot are there. I watch as Zane grabs hold of Sherman’s arm and starts to squeeze. Sherman’s eyes widen and he grunts, but the pressure on my throat eases and he eventually lets me go. He turns to Zane, a look of rage on his face.

  “You fucked up, son,” he growls.

  “Do something about it.”

  Sherman rounds on Zane and draws his fist back to strike when the loud crack of a gunshot echoes throughout the common area. Everything stops. It’s as if we’re all frozen in time, nobody moving, nobody daring to even breathe. Even Sherman has stopped what he was doing and is staring at somebody standing behind me.

  I slowly turn to see a tall, thick man with dark hair cut military short, eyes like pieces of onyx, and dusky-hued skin. He’s got several days’ worth of stubble on his face and has a commanding air about him. The man’s presence seems to fill the entire prison, and there is something about him that rings a familiar bell in my head. Not the same sort of familiarity I felt with Zane, Elliot, and Gray. No, this is darker. More ominous.

  “C-Colonel Villa. Good to see you, sir,” Sherman stammers. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

  “What is going on here?” Villa growls.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Sherman says.

  “That’s not how it looked to me, Captain.”

  “I assure you, Colonel, everything is under control,” Sherman insists.

  Villa purses his lips. “Fine. Not my problem, anyway,” he says. “We’re dropping a few more prisoners off in the adult pod. I would like you to see to them.”

  “Fine. I’ll see to it,” Sherman says.

  I narrow my eyes, the hatred in me rising like the tide as I glare at him. Colonel Villa. He turns his head and sees me looking at him. He looks me up and down, taking in my every feature before flashing me an arrogant smirk. It stokes the flames of rage already burning inside of me, making them blaze even hotter.

  “God a problem, kid?” he sneers.

  “You killed my parents,” I say, my voice low and tight.

  He shrugs. “It’s possible.”

  “They were innocent.”

  “Nobody’s innocent, kid,” he spits.

  “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Did they turn you over to the proper authorities, as is demanded by law?”

  I say nothing. I just stand there, glaring at the man responsible for the death of my family. Maybe he didn’t pull the trigger, but he gave the order to do it, which makes him just as responsible in my mind.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Then they got what they deserved.”

  “Fuck you,” I hiss.

  He chuckles, obviously enjoying the pain he sees in my eyes—pain that he caused. That he’s responsible for. This man destroyed my entire life.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you,” I tell him. “Maybe not today or tomorrow, but I will kill you.”

  “Yeah,” he smirks. “Good luck with that.”

  He turns back to Sherman, obviously dismissing me, which only pisses me off more. I start toward him, but Zane is there to intercept me. Although I do my best to wriggle away from him and get at Villa, he holds me fast. Zane leans down and whispers into my ear.

  “Now is not the time,” he says. “There will be a time, I assure you. But this is not it. And I need you to trust me.”

  I let Zane lead me away from the common area, albeit reluctantly. I keep my head down as we walk away, threading our way through the crowd. I have no idea where Elliot’s gotten off to. All I know is he’s suddenly not there. Zane takes me through a few corridors that branch off the main hub of the prison. It’s just more cells, but I didn’t realize there was anything more than the main common area and the yard.

  He takes me down a long corridor and all of the cells stand empty, save one—his. I
walk in and immediately start to pace the space with my arms crossed over my chest, noticing that it’s larger than mine. And there are books everywhere.

  “Sit down,” Zane orders. “Your pacing is driving me insane.”

  I do as he says and take a seat in the chair at his desk. He drops down onto the bed and leans forward, his hands clasped in front of him and his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes bore into mine and I can tell he wants to say something.

  “Spit it out,” I say.

  “Villa is somebody you do not want to get on the wrong side of,” he tells me. “That man is pure evil. He makes Sherman look like a choirboy.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” I say again.

  “I believe you. And I will not dissuade you,” he says. “But I will ask that you be smart about it. You will not be able to kill him in the middle of this prison. It’s suicide to try.”

  “Where were they taking Gray?” I ask.

  A small, sad smile touches Zane’s lips and he looks away. I can tell he doesn’t want to tell me—not because he’s worried about the big shifter, but because he’s trying to protect my feelings. Which only serves to make me angry. I am not some wilting flower who needs to be protected all the time.

  “Where, Zane?”

  Finally, he turns those piercing blue eyes on me. “Every couple of weeks, Sherman and some of his buddies take some of us to a fighting pit,” he says. “They have high rollers come in from everywhere to gamble on the fights.”

  “Fights?”

  He nods. “Vampire versus shifter. Shifter versus elemental. You get the drill,” he says. “Any of us who are deemed to be expendable are used to satisfy the bloodlust of these cretins.”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  He shakes his head. “I wish I was,” he admits. “It’s usually not fighting to the death. Fry and Keene would frown on losing too many test subjects in such a needless way. But it’s brutal.”

  I turn to him. “Have you… fought?”

  He nods. “Not in a while. Not when I figured out how to use my abilities and it became too… unsporting for the gamblers,” he says, a small hint of sadness in his voice. “But yes, I’ve been forced to fight in Sherman’s little tournaments before.”