Lia propped her chin on her hand, over his heart, her other hand wandering down his belly. She found his cock—which admittedly wasn’t difficult after her kisses and the feel of her plump little breasts mashed to his skin—and fisted it while her lips curved in a smile far too sinful for her face. “You sure?”
He hesitated, just long enough for her to pump him. “Where were we?”
She laughed, a pure sound of mirth and happiness. As if she’d forgotten, just for the moment, that the world and all its ugliness and danger lurked beyond the walls of this rundown motel. He’d give her anything she wanted to make that moment last as long as it could. The real world would intrude soon enough.
“Oh yeah, Kyrios had just majorly fucked up and figured out that the woman he wanted for his mate thought he was a self-aggrandizing asshole and left him cold.”
“Wow, you tell kids these stories?”
“No, my sister does and she doesn’t swear.”
“Because clearly you swear enough for both of you.”
He gave her his best annoyed-teacher look. “Do you want to hear this or don’t you?”
Her not-remotely-chastised smirk made another appearance. “Right, self-aggrandizing asshole.”
“Thank you. So, Kyrios had it in his head that reclaiming his chosen female would be cake. He hadn’t counted on the fact that Selene’s pride might be equal to his own. He followed her to her room, but she locked the door against him. He ordered her to his private hall, but she refused to answer. What he’d begun to think was petulance in truth turned out to be a simple escape plan. While Kyrios postured and demanded, Selene was shredding his sheets, forming a rope and climbing down the battlements.”
“No one stopped her?”
“Remember what I said about Alphas being arrogant jackasses who love to see a brother squirm?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Though the Alpha challenge had ended, no one left because there wasn’t a shifter alive who didn’t want to see how this turned out.”
Including Lia, whose eyes were glittering with anticipation, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she grinned.
“So, Selene was determined to get back to her father’s lands and put the entire thing behind her. But it wasn’t long before Kyrios followed…along with the entire clan behind him. At the command of her father, Selene was not allowed to leave their lands and further ordered to see to the king’s every need.”
“Her father was a jerk.”
“No, her father knew his daughter. Selene did everything a chatelaine should do. She smiled, she curtseyed, she kept the king’s room, served his dinner and prepared his bath. Which would be a good thing if the king’s bed wasn’t lumpy, his blankets didn’t have fleas, his food had any flavor and his nightly bath wasn’t ice cold.”
“I like her.”
“You would.” He tugged her hair. “Every day, Selene found some new way to torment Kyrios. And every day, the king took her punishments, without a single complaint. He let her attend to him, his continued presence a challenge all its own. He would not back down to one plain little female’s taunts. He meant to win this game, win this mate, and hell would flood before he gave in.
“His plan, it turned out, was to repay every hardship she placed on his head with kindnesses. It started with lavish gifts, but he soon saw the children wearing the jewelry, the fine silks and trinkets. So he searched for things she couldn’t give away. To do that, he had to find out what was important to her. Since so many Alphas were just lying around watching, he assigned his duties to them and remade himself into as simple a man as he was able. He spent his days with her, determined to learn everything about the woman he could not get out of his blood.
“Selene wasn’t happy about this development, of course, but she was still under orders from her father. Deciding it couldn’t hurt the grand high king to learn about the people he ruled, she showed him the peasants she knew best. How they worked. How they lived. And, Kyrios discovered, all on his own, how they loved.”
“This is where it gets squishy, isn’t it?”
“Shut up, you know that’s why you picked it.”
Lia twisted his nipple hard enough to make him yowl.
“Geez, I’m not even going to ask where you learned that.”
“Probably not a good idea, no.”
“Just for that, you deserve the squishy parts.” He took his hand off her back to cover the abused flesh. “Before long, Kyrios wasn’t just watching how Selene spent her days, he was there, working beside her. Beside the women, the children, the healers and the sick. He no longer had to command her to speak to him, instead, he asked her questions and she answered them, her honesty something he found he could trust. To her, he was not a king to be feared, but a man who had to earn her trust. He found he wanted to be a man she respected. A man she could love.”
For all the times he’d told this story, in this quiet room, her small hands splayed over him, her mouth still swollen from his, he understood how the ancient king had felt. To have a woman before him who he wanted to conquer but never tame. To want her more than his pride, more than his own soul…and know she didn’t have to choose him in return. It was enough to make a man, a Wolf especially, desperate. If the right woman could humble a king, how was
he
supposed to stand beneath the pressure?
“Bit by bit, Selene’s anger at him subsided. Kyrios soon found his bed clean and fresh. His food not only palatable but delicious. But it was the nights, after a long day’s work, that were the most torturous of all. Instead of the frigid baths, Selene attended him alone, the water hot enough to steam the entire room. She bathed him carefully, at times he almost thought lovingly, driving him to the very edge of his control, before leaving him unfulfilled. It was a new torture, but one he would cut off his own arm before giving up.
“Finally, one night, worn through, heart all but bleeding for this woman, Kyrios stopped her hands from her duties and simply asked—man to woman—what it was she wanted from him. He looked into her eyes and said, ‘I have offered you everything I have, handed you my soul, laid my pride at your feet. What more do you need of me, my lady, for I will give it to you gladly if you would only cease my torture. Will you be my mate or leave me to waste away for you, for I can take no more.’”
Lia sighed, her lids heavy, her lips still curved upward. “Okay, maybe he’s not a
total
asshole.”
Tate grinned. She’d be out in minutes, if that. “Selene must have thought the same thing, because she climbed into the bath, nightgown and all, and wrapped her arms around his neck, saying, ‘All you needed to do, milord, was ask.’
“From that day on, Selene was Kyrios’ Queen. Queen over his people, queen over his lands, queen of his heart. They had many children, lived in peace and prosperity and, most important, they lived happily ever after, going together from this life into the next.”
That’s where I’ll go with you, too, Lia. Whenever you need me to.
“Do you really think there is a next life?” Her eyes were completely closed, her words little more than murmurs.
He used his palm on the back of her head to ease her down so she rested over his heart. Thoughts like that didn’t speak glowingly of faith for their future. One he was determined they’d have. “I think this is the life that matters the most.”
My life with you.
She fell asleep, draped over him, her heartbeat matching his own. It was that synchronized rhythm that lulled him to sleep. It wasn’t the bond, but for a few precious hours, his soul—his Wolf—didn’t know the difference.
The girl awoke, senses screaming, at the crash of metal. She sat up, the man next to her already lunging forward. Vision a crisp, clear black and white, she actually saw the bloom-ended tranquilizer dart hit Tate’s neck. He lurched backward onto the bed next to her, looking at her, eyes widening as he realized he couldn’t move. Then even that was gone, his lids sliding closed. Time froze, absolute terror zeroing her entire focus on that ribboned metal prong.
Asher.
Behind her, having shoved his way through the air grate.
Pacing, letting her fear build to its crippling point while she waited for him to strike.
Not a memory. Not a nightmare. Not a moment for her to be locked inside her mind. With a roar that felt as if it rose from inside her, she lifted her arms before she heard a rush of air arcing overhead. Tate’s blade, long and vicious, came into view even as her hands slid past it to grasp the ghostly white hand wielding it. She leaped up, pushing her entire body to derail the deadly path into Tate’s unprotected body.
The blade crashed down a mere inch past his side, ripping into the mattress with a jagged rending sound. It stuck, wrenching free from both their hands. Lia spun, looking for her footing, but never got it. Instead that cold hand slammed into her throat, lifting her to her toes in silent malice.
Then she was flying into her own reflection, landing with a crash against the wall mirror. Shards rained down on her, but there was no time to feel them. Already, Asher’s hands were in her hair, yanking her up to her feet. She never saw the back of his hand coming, but she felt it, the side of her face bursting into fire as white light exploded behind her eyes. The ground rushed up to meet her, the impact of the faded red carpet almost a relief in comparison to the blows. She blinked, trying to see past the red haze burning her eyes. Asher, between her and the bed. He stood still, almost as if he were waiting for her to focus.
But his face wasn’t turned her way. He was looking at Tate.
Waiting for her to see so she wouldn’t miss him doing to her lover what he’d done to all the others.
“No…” She tried to rise, but a sickening dizziness swirled the room until she fell back to the floor.
Asher’s attention shifted, his head turning as if laser guided to her. He took a step…no, a limp.
He’d always moved like a ghost, the smoothness of his motion eerie. Now his weight was definitely to the right, his balance just that small bit wrong. She coursed her eyes down to the leg he favored. The knee he wasn’t bending. The one Tate had probably severed tendons to when he threw his knife into it. Worse, the booted foot had a bandage over it, misshapen and dark with seeping blood. The car must have broken his bone right through his boot.
He hadn’t finished healing before coming after her.
She waited, heart in her throat, for him to get closer. Another step. Inches. Anything.
Instead they both heard the moan from the bed. Tate’s hand rose, then fell back to the mattress top. Asher’s attention shifted, his body turned and she knew her chance was gone.
No, no, no, no, no, no!
She rose, kicking out, her foot connecting with his knee hard enough for the sickening crunch of bones snapping louder than the muted roar of agony behind the mask. He fell hard, grappling for her.
How she kept her feet under her, she didn’t know, but she slipped from his fingers and clambered into the bathroom. Desperate, she looked around for a weapon. Something. Anything.
The metal shower rod glinted, catching the light from the room behind her and she ran to it, yanking it down. The curtain came down with it, the metal rings clattering as she fought to free the pole.
Wood creaked behind her and the light flicked on, making her gasp. But when she turned, it wasn’t the hulking monster from her nightmares. It was a man, still huge, but broken. His hand wasn’t on the threshold of the door because he wanted to scare her. He’d needed it to lift himself to his feet, likely hitting the switch by accident in his efforts. His uniform was shredded over his legs, torn at his throat, actually exposing the skin. She could see dark stains on what was left of the fabric at his waist, blood still dripping from his wrist onto the lintel. He hadn’t risen to his full height, instead hunching slightly, one of his arms wrapped around his ribs and she realized he was taking his air in slowly. Carefully. Even one of the lenses of his mask was cracked, the smooth surface scuffed where his cheek should be.
All those injections they gave him hadn’t made him invincible after all.
“This time
you’re
the one in pain, aren’t you?” Lia lifted her chin, her hands tightening on the rod. “Not as much fun, is it? Now that you’ve finally found out what it feels like to bleed. How’s it feel to know
I’m
the one who hurt you?” The one he’d thought he had complete control of. The one he’d thought crushed under his boot in almost every way. She hoped it burned. She hoped it fucking blazed to the bone.
“You…betrayed…me…mate.” That voice, garbled and almost unrecognizable, had lost its ability to scare her.
It only lit the flame of her anger. “I. Am. Not. Your. Mate!” She hadn’t meant to raise the shower rod or to slam the end of it into his face. But once she started, she couldn’t stop, aiming with shaking hands for the space at his throat where the armor had come undone, hoping to shove it straight through. “You stole everything from me, you fucker. You don’t own me. I didn’t choose you. I! Never! Chose! You!”
He batted at the pole, taking a shot or deflecting it, but she kept hitting him until he finally caught the end and shoved it back at her. She ducked the pop of the rod coming back at her face, losing her grip when he wrested it away. Broken or not, he was able to lurch at her, throwing his considerable weight against her to the wall. She pushed at him but, too soon, his hand was back at her throat, pinning her in place, leveraging his body to push his weight right into her throat.
Rather than pry at his hand, she simply continued her attack, pounding at his elbows, shoulders and face. Whatever she could reach. Kicking against his legs. Trying to get her knees up into his solar plexus. The flurry of blows didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. Her claws caught on the back of the mask, giving her enough traction to wrench his head to the side. To her shock, the hard shell moved. He squeezed harder but she ignored it. Yanking viciously now, until the faceplate began to give way.
Suddenly, his grip changed, grasping her jaw and shoving her up the wall, her head nearly touching the low ceiling, effectively removing himself from her reach.
“You can’t kill me,” she managed to rasp at him, grasping his forearm to try to pry some distance from his hold. She continued to kick, hitting him as hard as she could in the face, but the blows were awkward, glancing off him and his massive arms. All the same, the rest of the mask front broke off, falling to the side, partially revealing a deathly pale face encircled by a fitted black skullcap.
If she could have gasped, she would have.
His skin was too devoid of color to be called sickly, but that was what she thought. No brows. And his eyes…for the first time she could see the true eyes of her nightmares. They had no color. None, but for the black dot in the center. They didn’t need color to relay his hatred though. That fairly glowed from them as he shook off the dangling remains. The rest of his face became revoltingly clear. Grooves indented his skin along the line of his nose, his flat cheekbones, and under the colorless slash of a mouth. Probably from the mask where she’d kicked him. She hoped.
“I have nothing left to lose anymore, do I?” It wasn’t a computerized voice this time, but a real voice. Deep. Graveled. Incensed. “They’ll have no use for you now that you’ve been tainted, and without you, I’m just another failed experiment. What do you think they do to failures, Aurelia?” Those inhuman eyes took on a maniacal gleam. “I won’t be the dog they put down. There’s no escape for either of us except the one we make for ourselves.”
But for her claws digging into his hand, his sudden jerk to pound her against the wall would have broken the bones in her throat. “You almost got me with that car, but I have no intention of leaving this world alone. For two years you’ve tortured me. For two years I did everything they asked of me. For
you!
”
“I didn’t…ask you…for anything.”
The smile on his face, that ugly slash of a mouth revealing the too-red insides of his lips, sent chills down her back. “You asked for your sister’s life.”
“No.” She knew what he was going to say, but she couldn’t let go to cover her ears.
“I tracked your scent when they pulled me off you. Was so desperate to taste you I followed it back to find anything of yours I could. You led me right back to her. It cost me nothing to kill her in that alley. Snapped her neck with one hand, right there where she waited for you behind the bin. On that dirty fruit crate. How else do you think I got that scarf?”
Hot, angry tears spilled over her cheeks. “I hate you.”
“Not as much as I hate you.” Spittle flew as he snarled. “You
ruined
me.”
Lia gritted her teeth. “There was nothing to ruin. You’re a killer on a leash, that’s all you ever were.”
He nodded. “Then you know how much pleasure I’ll take in killing your lover before we play out what’s left of our game. What do you think he’ll want? The knife or the gun?”
“Fuck you!” She spat in his face, struggling anew when his other hand reached to the sidearm he always kept at his hip. This one wasn’t loaded with the blue-ribboned tranquilizers. This one delivered actual slugs, the barrel already extended with a long black silencer.
If there was one thing she’d hoped never to see in her life, it was the horrifying curve of Asher’s lips forming a macabre semblance of a smile.
At least, until a blur hit the side of his face, rocking him to the side.
She stared down, as Asher stared up, both of them in a state of shock at the knife hilt sticking out through one cheek, the shining tip of the ten-inch blade dripping blood from the other side.
With panicked eyes, she sought out the man she mentally begged not to be in the doorway. But he was, eyes not quite focused, leaning heavily to one side.
Asher only raised his gun hand and pointed.
“No!” But her screams stopped nothing.
Desperate for any way to attack him, she looked wildly for anything she could reach to stop him. There was nothing. No time. No way to stop him…but one.
The gun went off, once, twice—Her gaze found the florescent light fixture on the ceiling only a few inches away.
I die, Asher dies…
Maybe this way, Tate might live.
Not giving herself a chance to think, she smashed her bloodied hand into the plastic frame to the bulbs and the socket inside.
The world turned a blinding shade of blue, pain shooting up her arm before spreading to every inch of her body. Fire, white fire, scattering her thoughts, her breaths, before stopping her heart.
Not even her screams followed her into the darkness.
Odd, Tate thought distantly, how he didn’t even register the gun going off, or even falling on his back from the blow. Only the panicked horror in Lia’s eyes…and—as the second streak of fire burrowed into his side—resolution.
“No!” But his own rough scream drowned under the sound of hers as the room went black, light flashing once, twice, then nothing…Just the sound of feet clacking wildly and the smell of burning flesh.
Scrambling for anything, he hauled himself unsteadily to his feet. His hand dragged over the counter, grazing a face towel on the sink. Wrapping it around his hand he stumbled into the bathroom, blindly swinging to knock them loose of the current. Their bodies fell free of each other with a solid thud, Lia crashing down almost on top of him, slumping them both to the ground.
Icy pain filled his gut, nearly sizzling as it widened. He shoved it to the back of his mind. He grabbed her arms, pulling her away from Asher’s still-twitching form. He lowered her as gently as possible, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off of the beast on the ground. Not about to take any chances this time, he forced himself to leave her for a few precious seconds. It wouldn’t take more than a moment to do what he should have back in that barn. Back by the river.
Flexing his claws, he swung down, tearing all the way through the flesh of Asher’s exposed neck, then wrenching outward, ripping the savaged muscle in half. “Get up from that, motherfucker.”
He slumped against the wall, breathing hard, his mind and body already refocusing on Lia. His legs, already heavy, had gone almost boneless as well, but he refused to let that stop him from helping her. He got her halfway out the door, into the light where he finally could see the blood leaking from her ears. Her mouth. Her hand…God, her hand was burned and bloody from her fingers to her wrist. Blackened.
“Why did you do this, damn it?” He felt for a pulse, his hands shaking and his lips going numb. Nothing. “Why’d you fucking do this?”
She didn’t answer. No breath from her either.
“You can’t leave me, Lia. You get your goddamned ass back here. Do you hear me?” He tried to remember what he was supposed to do, but his mind was scattered. She had cuts everywhere and, from the draining feeling in his body, he knew not all the blood was hers. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving her. He bent her head back, lowering down to push air into her. By rote, his hands found the space on her chest to compress. Five hard pushes. Breathe. Five pushes…breathe.
His vision began to gray.
No, have to save her. Have to…
But she wasn’t responding, and his body wasn’t going to keep him up much longer. Rage, helpless and useless, ran through him. If he were home, in Resurrection, Jade would be there. She’d do that white-light shit of hers. She’d save Lia, but Jade was thousands of miles away. Too far to heal people. Too far to hear him begging for his mate’s life.
Except…
Pale’s signature bonds itself to those who are loyal to him, to those he considers his own. He’s connected to everyone he cares about…Sometimes I can even feel them through him, when their emotions are strong enough, because their signatures reach for him when they need him…