Wild Lands (Savage Lands Book 2)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  Now he stood across from me, another enemy.

  He lifted his hands like he was easing a rabid animal. “You have nowhere to go. Please. Let us help you. We are not your enemy… We are your family. Your friends.”

  The way he spoke, I realized he thought I was having a psychotic break. That my mind had snapped after being locked in the House of Death, and I could no longer tell the difference between reality and hallucinations.

  Soon he’d know it was not true. Istvan was setting me up while covering his own ass. He was the kind one trying to help a troubled girl. No one would question him. They could easily make me out as crazy.

  And I fit the part perfectly.

  Movement darted my eyes away from him, seeing more and more guards circling me. Most held guns pointed at my head now.

  “Don’t worry about them. Keep your eyes on me, Kovacs. Just you and me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.” Bakos reached for me.

  I wanted to laugh, but my brain whirled with what I could do, the innate knowledge I was screwed. There was no way out of this. Istvan won.

  Checkmate.

  Bakos traveled to me. Like they were cuffs, his fingers reached for my arms.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Explosions tore from outside HDF, shaking the building violently and flinging everyone off their feet with a brutal slam. My spine hit the marble floor, punching the oxygen from my lungs, making me gasp for air, my hearing going dim and hazy.

  I rolled, covering my head as gold plaster rained down. A chandelier snapped from its tether, smashing to the ground, glass exploding out like bullets. Screams of terror, cries of pain, and shrieks of panic combusted off the walls and ceilings.

  Memories threw me back to Halálház, as though I’d stepped back in time, watching the prison crumble around me. I could taste it, hear it, feel it all over again. The shrill screeches of people’s panic and terror coated my tongue.

  “Get. The. Fuck. Up. Kovacs.” As if he were sitting next to me again, trying to make me rise, Warwick’s husky voice growled in my ear. “Run.”

  A warm sensation weaved inside me, giving me this unexplainable strength. Pushing up, I gritted my teeth, ignoring all the pain. Blood gushed down my face from the glass cuts and punches, but I felt nothing.

  Numb.

  Bodies lay everywhere around me. Some guards were already running for the door. No one seemed to notice or care about me anymore. HDF had been attacked. I was not the most critical threat anymore. But it wouldn’t be long before attention returned to me.

  Without hesitation, I sprinted for the exit, the bottoms of my feet sliced by glass shards, leaving bloody footprints as a trail.

  Uproar and disorder spun the guards in circles. HDF had never been attacked before, and no amount of training compared to the real thing.

  Soldiers ran toward the explosion, no one paying any thought to me as I scurried the opposite way out the doors, following the tug in my gut into the darkness.

  “Brexley!” I paused at the sound of my name, turning back toward HDF.

  Caden stood yards away. The flood of lights from HDF both highlighted and shadowed his features. I could see his tux was torn, blood dripping from his cheek, but the agony in his eyes stabbed me in the chest. I couldn’t bear the utter anguish as he looked at me, the confusion, the hurt.

  I couldn’t drag him down with me. I loved him beyond words, but in this moment, I knew my life could never be within these walls. I was now an enemy.

  Caden’s place was here. This was his home.

  I looked back at him, grief batting my lashes as a tear fell down my face. “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing if he heard me before I swung back around and disappeared into the darkness, leaving a piece of my heart behind with him.

  “BREXLEY!” A howl of agony came from behind me. The guttural sound hitched a sob up my throat, making me run faster. I fought back my tears, focused on my survival.

  As if a tether pulled me forward, I slipped beyond the gates of Leopold, knowing I would never step inside again. Not as a free person.

  Deep in the darkness, I spotted a glowing red taillight, a massive silhouette straddling a bike.

  His turquoise eyes transcended the dark, raking down me like fingers.

  I didn’t want to think about how he was here, how he knew I needed a distraction to get out, how I knew where he’d be without even thinking. My senses and mind were already on overload.

  “Only you, princess…” He revved the engine as I grappled with the dress, climbing on behind him, wondering how he got a new motorcycle so quickly. They were not easy to get in this country. “Would run from a ball bloody and barefoot.”

  “Shut up.” I wrapped my arms around him.

  He snorted, shaking his head, the bike speeding down the street. I turned and looked back, watching the lights of the only place I had ever known become foreign and enemy territory.

  Istvan would not let this go. They would come after me. He would send his assassin to track me down.

  I sucked in, my head rising, watching the buildings blur past as my old life disappeared behind me.

  The problem was, the girl they were going to track had already been destroyed. Beaten, tortured, and buried.

  He didn’t know he was hunting a monster now.

  Like a harbinger riding through the night, my scarlet-red dress streamed behind me, sailing in the wind on a black machine driven by death himself, catching more attention than we wanted. Crested with gems, the finest silk, and expensive lace, the rich, deep color was enough by itself to scream wealth and privilege. Elites wouldn’t last long on these streets.

  Warwick and I didn’t speak as he zigzagged through the lanes, maneuvering around horses and carts, making sure if anyone followed us, they would struggle to keep up.

  More and more people strolled the streets the closer we moved to the heart of the Savage Lands. Fires glowed from barrels as groups of people huddled for warmth around them with kids and infants, their faces drawn, dirty, and scarred. But their gazes turned to me, lighting up with awe at my fine dress, then turning quickly to greed.

  I knew what a few yards of the rich material could do for them. Fill their bellies for many nights.

  Driving into an unlit alley, Warwick turned off the headlights, coasting until he curved us into an even tinier path, stopping the bike. We both sat for a moment in the dark, a sliver of the moon casting an eerie glow on us, only our breaths and distant sounds touching the air. The stench of old urine and garbage attacked my nose, forcing me to breathe through my mouth.

  After several moments of no one following us down the lane, my shoulders eased.

  He made a sound in his throat, his head turning enough to make out his profile. Without a word, I understood what he wanted. I slid off the bike, brushed debris off my torn dress, and checked that the documents were still pressed securely to my sternum.

  Warwick pushed the motorbike behind a dumpster, tossing cardboard boxes over it to help disguise it. He huffed through his nose and jerked his chin for me to follow.

  “Keep close,” he rumbled, his forehead creasing with irritation, his gaze running down my body. “You’re a walking target, especially in Carnal Row.”

  “Carnal Row?”

  “It’s what this place is called. It’s not hard to figure out why it’s called that.”

  Music, laughter, yelling, and chatter grew louder and louder as we moved onto the main lane, the name fitting the depraved carnival atmosphere. The familiar path packed with figures shocked my system with smells and sights almost as much as the first night I walked through here.

  It was a Saturday night, and the place was bursting with sin, greed, lust, and seduction. The festival was alive with sex, gambling, and drinks.

  I gasped as a burst of fire flared over my head, drawing my eye up to a woman in knickers and a corset swinging on a hoop, twirling a flaming baton. Hammocks hanging from the ceiling were already filled with naked figures lost in ecstasy
, their moans threading into the music coming from each establishment. Roars of what sounded like wild animals bellowed from down the row. Shape-shifters only half shifted mulled around, offering up pills and alcohol. Glittery, cheap costumes sparkled under the firebulbs as barely dressed men and women curled their fingers, enticing people to come closer. Tables were packed with gamblers, fights breaking out as hands were revealed.

  As we passed one gambling den, a man shouted, “Cheater!” Pulling out a pistol, he pointed at another man and shot him dead in a blink. The gunfire didn’t even make people flinch.

  “Hey, beautiful!” A hand touched my face, pulling my attention to a stunning fae woman in front of me. “You look ready to party.” Her hand moved down my frame, purring with lust and promises, but her eyes were empty. “I can offer you anything you desire,” she said, but her fingers went back to the silk of my dress, her thumb running over the buttery fabric and the gems hand-stitched into the roses. “Oh, my gods…” Her mouth parted. “Is this real? These are real, aren’t they?”

  Warwick growled, grabbing my hand and yanking me through the throng, away from her.

  “We need to get you out of that fuckin’ dress. Now,” he rasped in my ear, pulling me closer, the heat of his body pressing into me as he herded me toward a familiar building.

  Kitty’s was lit up, almost every window stuffed with all sexes and types flaunting themselves. The girls were in corsets, robes, and fishnet stockings. The guys were only in tiny briefs showing off their packages, some wearing top hats or leather vests. All of them were in sexual positions putting what they had to offer on display, yelling offers of sex down to those who passed. Young and old, patrons drifted in and out the front door in a steady stream. Grunts from the alley and windows suggested some were already indulging.

  “Warwick, baby.” They all cooed from the windows. I flicked my attention up, landing on one, my lids narrowing.

  “Let me know when you’re ready. The girls and I will drop whatever we’re doing for you.” Nerissa leaned out the window, showing off generous breasts bursting out of her top. Her gaze slid to me, an impish smile curving her lips. Smug. Like she knew exactly how he tasted, what he felt like… and I didn’t.

  “Oh, looky who’s back. Ms. Prude is actually going to lower herself to our kind again?”

  “Nerissa,” Warwick warned, but her smile turned haughtier.

  He leaped up the steps to the door, not even looking back to see if I was behind him. I felt like some nuisance or kid sister he was obligated to come pick up.

  Fuck him. Huffing, I clutched the sides of the gown, yanking it up, heading up the stairs, trying not to flinch. The tender pads of my feet burned, leaving partial bloody prints on the steps.

  “What? Had nothing else to wear? Just something you threw on, duchess?” Nerissa leaned farther out as she taunted me, the others howling with laughter from their perches.

  Snarling, I ignored her, stepping inside the doors.

  “War-wick.” A lingering, smoky sigh filled with annoyance and love. “I am not some halfway house.” The dame herself, Madam Kitty, stood in the large lounge, looking as polished and poised as ever. Her dark skin glowed in the lamplight, highlighting her sharp cheekbones. Tonight, she wore a green sequin-covered dress that fit her body like a glove, her dark hair up in a high sleek ponytail, the ends reaching her waist. I knew the hair wasn’t real. Nor were the long lashes and even longer red nails. She was striking, but exceptionally intimidating. Still, something was off, something I couldn’t exactly explain.

  “Kitty…” Warwick tipped his head to the side, giving her a tiny smile. “I swear nothing will happen.”

  “My dear boy…” Her voice went very low, her hand going to her hip. “The last time you said that, I had to remodel the entire second floor.”

  “That was one time.”

  “The time before, it was the living room… The time before I had to replace four beds…”

  “That was entirely for a different reason.” He held up his hand.

  Her curled lashes lowered in a glower before her eyes slowly slid over to me. She always looked displeased, unless she was talking to Warwick, but I couldn’t tell at all what she thought about seeing me again.

  Her jaw tensed, her attention going back to Warwick. “One of these days you will run out of favors.”

  Warwick’s devastating grin danced over his face cheekily, making me inhale sharply—a genuine smile. His eyes glinted as he took her hand, kissing it. “You are a rare diamond, my friend.”

  She snorted, taking back her hand and patting his shoulder. “I’m rare, all right.” She sighed. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.” He grinned again, kissing her cheek. “Go!” She batted at him. “Ugh. I don’t know why I’ve put up with you all these years.”

  Warwick peered back at me, then turned and marched up the stairs, his happy mood dissolving the instant he looked upon me.

  Clutching the monstrosity I wore, I headed for the stairs, dipping my head at Kitty. “Thank you.”

  “Be careful with that one, girl,” she said, her reserve and polished appearance back in place, watching customers go in and out the door. “He has a way of pulling you in, drowning you…” She swallowed, and my eyes moved to her neck, noticing the Adam’s apple. “And all you do is ask for more.”

  I paused, my gaze searching her face, seeing the truth behind the mask. “You’re in love with him.”

  Her mouth twisted in a soft derisive scoff, not denying it.

  “The love of my life is this place. I have no use for a heart. I learned that lesson long ago.” She glanced over at me. “But let me warn you—nothing is worse than loving a man who will never love you back. It’s the worst kind of torture because you can grow accustomed to it, long for it, crave it more than life. You wouldn’t even know how to stop it. Nor do you want to.” She touched my arm, her head tipping, examining me. “But maybe this time, it is he who needs to be careful.” Her eyes ran over me before turning away. “I will send up clothes for you.”

  My eyes tracked her until she was out of view, her warning feeling weighty and potent.

  Trudging up the steps, my gaze danced around. I never imagined I’d be back here. It was only a month ago, but it felt like years.

  Everything had changed from the first time I walked up these stairs. Then all I wanted was to go home, to my life, to Caden, believing I could easily slip back into that world and be happy. Now I had no home, no place or family to go back to. I was a traitor to my people, no longer welcome.

  I was homeless, penniless, and a true orphan.

  Sighing, I proceeded to the room Warwick was in.

  Whatever this link was between us scared me to death and stroked anger up my spine—because it felt like home. Something my soul clung to, which made me want to sever it more. It wasn’t only the fear of the unknown or what I’d lost tonight that played at my emotions, but the certainty of the pull to the room down the hall. I could feel him. See him. Without even being near him, I knew there was a half-empty bottle of Pálinka on the table, takeout cartons in the trash, and a jacket on the chair.

  Warwick was not someone you attached yourself to in any way. He was death. A lone wolf. Vicious and cruel.

  “It’s the worst kind of torture because you can grow accustomed to it, long for it, crave it more than life. You wouldn’t even know how to stop. Nor do you want to.”

  Chapter 14

  The wood planks creaked under my bare feet as I stepped into the room. The musty smell was settled so deeply into the walls that no spring day could ever air it out. The indulgences of this room stained the floors and walls; they were imprinted in the furniture and engraved in the very foundation of the building.

  Warwick stood with his back to me, staring out the window. His hands were on his hips, his shoulders straining up against his ears. His T-shirt stretched across his back, muscles flexing with every measured breath.

  The door clicked closed behind
me, leaving us alone in the tiny room. He gobbled up every molecule, every breath, hoarding it and pushing it against me as though he could take up the little space I contained.

  I lifted my chin, shoving back against his dominance, denying him from seizing what little I had left. He sniffed in, the silence weaving a palpable weight in the air.

  Impulse had my senses reaching out, as if I was right next to him, slithering inside, feeling his anger and resentment like he poured it into my hands, wrapping it around me like a noose.

  A deep grunt came from him, his shoulders twitching back. “Stop,” he said, so low it almost got lost in the gravel of his voice.

  I stood up taller, pushing harder, taking from him what he was trying to claim from me.

  “Stop,” he growled again, his physique locking up, but at the same time expanding so large he blocked the entire window.

  “You can feel that?” It wasn’t really a question. I took a step, imagining my fingers trailing down his spine. I could feel the fabric of his shirt, his muscles tense under my touch.

  “I. Said. Stop.” His head jerked to me, a snarl curling his lip.

  “How?” I didn’t pause, only moved closer to him, feeling his pulse thump over my imaginary fingertips. I could sense his trepidation and building irritation.

  In a flash, a switch seemed to flip.

  He sprang forward, wrapping his hand around my neck like a boa, pushing me back into the wall. Sparks charged through my veins, both hate and lust crackling through my core.

  “I told you to stop.” His luminescent eyes burned through the dark room, his mouth only a breath away from mine, his grip squeezing my throat.

  “You don’t tell me what to do,” I sneered. Every fiber in my body blazed with life, taking in his rich sexy smell, his warmth, his fury.

  “Maybe you should listen for once.” He pressed into me, the full skirt keeping him from flattening himself against me, but somehow he still invaded my space. His heavy cock was pulsing and hot. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have to keep saving your ass, princess.”