by Heather Long
Everyone died.
Murderers killed.
Abusers struck.
Innocents died.
What was one more or less?
So, he’d taken another drink and glanced at Zhan. Neither of them intervened, and she’d been dragged from the room to meet her fate.
Only now…
“What. Did. You. Do?” Why did he care? Tarus didn’t. Except Zhan had stopped breathing, moving, functioning, even seeing or hearing when she had stepped inside. All the air had evacuated the room, and then she’d taken a step.
One single step.
Need surged through Tarus. A need he hadn’t tasted in so long, he couldn’t remember when.
“You know, you’re cute when you’re being pissy,” Bish informed him, then gripped his wrist and pulled it away from his throat. “But I was going to have a drink with my friend, who you need to stay very far away from.”
“Oh really?” Intrigued, Tarus straightened as he pulled from Bish’s grasp. The other smoothed down his shirt and then dared to look past him, toward Zhan and the woman. Stepping right into his line of sight, Tarus blocked him. “Why do you think that?”
“I don’t think. I know. She is not for you.”
“Oh, but she’s for you?” He didn’t think so. Bish had his chance. She was standing right there. Had she tripped over Luck when she left the bar?
“Boys, boys, boys…” A familiar sweet voice wrapped around him, and while he might have been the only one to roll his eyes, his companion looked no less pleased at the interruption. A soft feminine arm wrapped around Tarus’ waist, a gentle palm flattening over his abs, and he went still. “What are we doing here?”
Bish spared her look. “Karmen, go find someone else to torture.”
“But you two look like you’re having fun.” She sounded almost pouty. “Not as much fun as Zhan, though.”
Tarus took his gaze off the other and glanced down at the woman leaning around him. Everything about her was so deceptively soft and relaxing. He wasn’t impressed. Or relaxed. “What are you up to?”
Deep lashes flicked up to reveal violet eyes, and she laughed. “Always so grouchy.” Lips pursed, she made a kissing sound, and he slid to the side, but not before her lips brushed his jaw.
Fuck.
She grinned, delight rolling off her as she clasped her hands together and drew back.
Scrubbing a hand to the burning skin, he glared at her. “We’re not here to play games.”
“No,” she whispered. “You’re not.” Then she slanted her attention across the bar. Like him, Bish went utterly still. “But maybe you should be. Play nicely boys. I’m going to introduce myself…”
Pivoting, Tarus fought the sluggishness of time holding him in place. The world slowed, as if time itself dilated to push him back. Seconds? Minutes?
He saw himself seize Bish. The drag of him across the room to slam against the wall.
Every action had a consequence.
Zhan caught Dahlia’s arm, his expression rapt as he brushed his fingers to her cheek. Karmen stood right behind them, her palms pressed together and the most delighted grin on her face.
Then his brother and the woman winked out.
“Fuck.” The single syllable exploded in the air as time rubber-banded, snapping him forward to now.
Zhan was gone.
She was gone.
Turning, he glared at the now empty spot.
Bish was gone, too.
The need in him surged higher, crackling through miles thick shackles of ice and apathy. Flexing his hands, he glared at the empty spot by the bar. The bartender quirked a brow at him before she slid a bottle of his favorite whiskey and three glasses onto the bar top for him.
Irritation scraped against his nerves. No, Zhan didn’t just get to disappear with her.
Tarus had his own questions. Taking the bottle and the glasses, he gave Quetta a nod. A smile curved her lips. “You should probably wipe that off,” she suggested with a wave, and tossed a bar cloth at him. He caught it and stared at the mirror and the imprint from lipstick against his jaw. No wonder it seemed to sear his skin. With one swipe, he cleared it away. The color, not the sensation.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime, sugar. Anytime. Have fun…” She started to turn away and then glanced back. “She did ask for an Afternoon Delight, so be gentle.” Then she winked, and a strange feeling shot through him. The reflection in the mirror grinned. Tarus blinked.
Smiling?
His lips flattened into a thin line.
With a thought, he focused on his brother.
The bar dissolved from his view, blinding white light surrounded him, then just as suddenly, winked out. He found himself somewhere he’d never expected Zhan to take her. Their place.
They’d shared a ranch outside of Dallas for years. Where Judgment always preferred to have his home in Domum, the refuge of the Keepers, when Zhan and Tarus made the decision to fall, they were forced to stay among the humans. It was supposed to be a punishment, but it wasn’t.
Far from it. Tarus and Zhan had vowed not to interfere, but they’d never said anything about not enjoying life as humans did. And their home was a testament to that. They’d outfitted one room specifically for their partners. Never the same one twice, because what was the point?
Any human woman they’d brought here would only die anyway. And get involved with one of their own kind? Hell no. Just that little kiss from Karmen was enough of a reminder not to get mixed up with one of them.
Even now, he could feel the residual pulse of her power flowing through him. Damn it, there was no telling how it would manifest, only that it would at the most unlikely time.
Karmen was a bitch that way.
In the span of a few seconds, or maybe minutes? Maybe Karmen also had the handy ability to slow time, just like Seth. Shaking off the stray thoughts, he focused on his brother. Zhan had the woman from the bar strung up tighter than the only strand of lights on a Christmas tree. She wasn’t going anywhere. But he’d only tied her wrists and ankles. He’d even had the foresight to put her on a platform so she was close to his height. When height was an issue like it was for Tarus and Zhan, they had to improvise to make it work.
“What the ever fucking hell are you doing? You can’t just tie a woman up, you jackass!” the woman yelled as she twisted every way possibly with little movement on her arms and legs.
“What’s your name?” Zhan rasped, as he stared at her.
He hadn’t even noticed Tarus when he arrived, although the woman stared daggers at him, as if she wanted to slice him up into little pieces. After the shock wore off from the scene in front of him, he cursed.
“Fuck a hydra. Zhan.” He set his drink and glasses on a simple, round Greek style table by the door. Then he stalked toward Zhan carefully so as not to startle him. All these millennia, Zhan had locked himself up tight. Before the fall, he was fun, courageous, carefree, a true champion for the innocent, but the more justice he doled out, the more it ate at his soul, until he was literally incapable of experiencing any emotion other than sadness. And helplessness.
For him to lose complete control on his form was nothing short of fucking scary. The woman wouldn’t be able see this side of him, but Tarus could. How many years had it been since he had seen Zhan’s wings? The impressive black feathers that gleamed iridescent navy and indigo in the light. They had always been breathtaking, but he had hidden them.
“You’re a few sandwiches short of a picnic, aren’t you? If you had wanted to bring me home, you should have just asked!” she yelled, straining against the rope holding her arms to the wall. Tarus gazed at the woman and tried to imagine what Zhan saw. Out of any women they’d had in this room, she by far was the most beautiful. Her ire and frustration only added fire to her dark eyes and a flush to her cheeks. The picture she made was exquisite.
“What is your name.” This time it was a command, and the steel replaced the confusion from before.
“Zhan,” Tarus whispered as he touched his primaries with the tips of his fingers. As soon as they connected, Zhan twisted violently, too wired to want touch or any type of comfort.
The sorrow and uncertainty in his gaze broke Tarus’ heart. He did nothing as Zhan fisted his shirt and shook him.
“Tarus, why is she here? You saw her, didn’t you? She’s not supposed to be here.” Tarus gently shook him off and approached their new friend. The same need that had assaulted him in Sinner’s came back with a vengeance, which was ironic, since he was Punishment.
She sneered, but couldn’t hide the increase in her pulse. It was visible in the delicate thrum at the base of her neck.
“Hello, beauty.” She bit her lip at the sound of his voice, drawing a wicked sense of satisfaction from him. The lines of her face were bold, daring. This close, he noticed her eyes weren’t just brown, but the color of the most delicious dark chocolate, with a ring of cinnamon around her pupil. He reached out and traced a finger down the column of her throat, and a bolt of electricity fired through his senses. When he jerked his hand back, the feeling fizzled out. “Interesting,” he murmured to himself.
“Are you going to let your friend keep me tied up?” She squinted at him like she knew he wasn’t going to let her go.
“I’m with Zhan. What’s your name?” Her shirt, which he just then noticed, had some strange virgin comment and rode up to expose her entire midriff. A snort escaped him, and he covered his face to hide it.
“Actually, the better question is, how do you know Bish?” She immediately shut her mouth. At first, he thought it was confusion, but he realized it was more loyalty than anything else. Yes, very interesting.
“Fuck, I’d forgotten about that.” Zhan muttered. “I’d been so shocked, I couldn’t think beyond seeing her in Sinner’s.” He stepped up beside Tarus, and together, they studied her.
Somehow, Bish had saved her. He must have. There was no other reason she would be there. There was no one else who would want to fuck with them. But why?
Tarus let his gaze roam her body, stopping on her hardened nipples. So she wasn’t immune to them. All the wicked thoughts traveled through his head. She was going to die. If not today, then tomorrow, or next year. He could still have his fun.
Curious, he peeked at Zhan out of the corner of his eye and found that Zhan was just as captivated by her now as he was at Sinner’s. Almost dangerously so.
Would a night with this devil of a temptress fuck him up, or would it help him heal? Or would he just find another reason to believe there was no hope left in the world? These were all questions that made Tarus’ head hurt.
Zhan bent into her space, running his nose along the side of her face. “I need to know your name.” His voice was like molten lava, burning her up just from the sound.
Her breath stuttered as she whispered, “Dahlia, damn it.”
“Dahlia,” She traced his lips with her gaze as he said her name in utter fascination.
“All right, beauty.” Tarus stepped closer so she was cocooned in their heat, but he didn’t touch her, leaving an inch of space between them. Enough so that every breath she took would be full of Tarus and Zhan. “Tell me about Bish.”
That snapped her out of her stupor. “Don’t take me for an idiot. I know you’re not human, and your association with Bish, I know he’s one of you now, too.”
Tarus and Zhan both took an immediate step back. How did she realize they weren’t human? She should not have remembered the trip here. Humans immediately forgot, filling the blank spot in their memory with something that made sense, like an Uber ride.
She watched them with something akin to delight, then erupted into hysterical giggles. “Oh, God. Oh, my God.” She started laughing so hard, she stopped breathing.
Zhan stiffened beside Tarus. “Was this it? Were we the catalyst to cause her death all along?” he whispered. “I don’t think I can watch this.”
Dahlia must have heard, because she suddenly emitted a high-pitched keening. Tarus thought it was a sound people made when they were laughing so hard, they couldn’t get enough air in their lungs. He just never thought he would be on the receiving end of the strange noise.
“You’re… You’re…” She coughed, then laughed some more. Eventually, she calmed just enough to speak. “You’re afraid of me now. Aren’t you?”
Tarus wasn’t sure what was going on. Was this Karmen’s doing? Did she somehow find a way to suffuse Dahlia with a little bit of immunity to their powers? She was probably creeping around their ranch, laughing her ass off.
“We are afraid of no one.” Zhan puffed up his chest, and dipped his chin. If she could see his true form right then, she would have experienced fear like she’d never experienced it before. The wings alone…
“Sure. Got it. You’re afraid of no one. Everyone should fear you and bow at your feet.” She made a show of tugging on her hands. “I would, but you’ve got me all tied up.”
“Ha.” It was quiet, so quiet, Tarus almost didn’t hear it. Was that… Was that a laugh?
When he turned to Zhan, his face was completely blank.
This was going nowhere, no matter how entertaining. “If you tell us how you know Bish, we’ll let you down.” Tarus let his hand hover over the knot, as if he could unravel it at any moment.
“I don’t like it, Tarus. I don’t like this at all.” Zhan shook his head and crossed his arms. The strong longing inside him started to bleed through his expression.
Fucked. They were both fucked.
And now they had a woman tied to their wall who was either sent to fuck with them, or was just a little nuts. Either way, she knew more than she was willing to admit.
Again, the willful, angry power inside him ached to be let free. Others of their kind had a gentle grace within them, while Tarus had a beast who constantly fought to be free. He wanted to let it out, unleash it on who would dare to challenge him.
But he could not, would not, unleash it on Dahlia. If he found out she had deceived him, he might give into the temptation.
“Sure. First you tell me why he’s so important.” She tried to shrug, but it was awkward.
The memory of Bish popped up in his mind, flirting with him to happily increase his irritation. He wasn’t important. Bish had never been important to Tarus or Zhan, but he hadn’t followed his grace, and he also hadn’t fallen.
Was this his first step away from the Keepers?
“Hello,” she said, elongating the last syllable. “You two still there?”
Tarus shook his head once, then slid a look at Zhan, who continued to stare, utterly riveted. The hunger coming off him seemed damn near a tangible force of his own.
The woman whistled, and Tarus yanked his attention back to that luscious face and gorgeous eyes. “Still here, big boy. Did you forget about me already?”
Eyes narrowed, Tarus flexed his hands, fisting and relaxing them. “Do you ever stop talking?”
The corner of her mouth kicked up. “There is no evidence of that, no.”
A snort. A half-strangled chuckle. Tarus swung his head to find Zhan pacing away, his back to him and wings flexing as he chuckled. It was a dry, dusty sound—rusted from ill-use.
“And you know,” she said dryly, as if they were the captives here and not her. “You did ask. Well, technically, you told me to tell you, but that’s kind of like asking because you don’t know the answer. You just want to know the answer. You’re also pushy. Sexy as hell, and that mouth is going to be in my dreams tonight, but still, pushy.”
Zhan pivoted. “His mouth?”
Wait. What was wrong with Tarus’ mouth? He frowned at the shock rippling through Zhan’s tone.
“Why his mouth?” Wings rustling, Zhan stalked back to her.
Head tilted, she swung her gaze from Tarus to Zhan. Tarus didn’t like that. The beast chuffed, straining against the shackles. Shifting forward, he planted himself next to his brother.
“Hmm…because
I’d rather dream about your eyes,” she told Zhan pointedly. “His mouth looks very biteable.”
Red flushed her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled. For all that she was tied securely, she seemed to be having a good time.
“Anyway,” she continued blithely, as if Tarus wasn’t suddenly considering all the ways he’d like to tie her. If she enjoyed it so much… He could work with that. “You started it.” She swung her head, and her gaze collided with his like a sledgehammer.
“How did I start it?”
“You wanted me to tell you about Bish.”
Right.
He had.
Pivoting, Tarus gave her his back as he retrieved the bottle from Quetta and twisted it open.
“You haven’t told us about Bish,” Zhan observed, interest creeping into his voice.
“You haven’t told me why you care so much or who he is to you,” she retorted.
“You are the one tied up,” his brother reminded her as Tarus poured himself a drink.
“Am I? Huh.” The actual surprise she intoned pulled another smile to Tarus’ lips, and he quickly downed the whole glass before refilling it. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention—when you strung me up here, you psycho!”
The screech took her voice to an unnatural pitch, and he winced. Stealing a look over his shoulder, he raised his eyebrows because Zhan had retreated once more. Not that Tarus blamed him. They might need to keep her tied up and throw in a ball gag to boot.
Though it would be a damn shame to cover up that mouth.
Determination flooded Zhan’s features as he narrowed the space once more, leaning in, he took a deep breath. Reaction fluttered across her expression, and she closed her eyes as Zhan pressed his lips just to her ear, not quite touching. “Tell. Me.” The whisper was almost not vocalized, but a feeling. It pulsed through the whole room.
Her nipples seemed to tighten, her posture straining her chest against the amusing shirt and giving him a very good look at that arousal.
Zhan used to be the most persuasive of them. No one could deny him anything. Not when he asked like that.
The female opened her eyes—Dahlia opened them, a shiver visible as she shuddered. Turning her head, she gazed into Zhan’s eyes. They were centimeters apart. Zhan would probably feel her breath on his cheeks—no, on his lips, because he shifted so his mouth hovered almost directly above hers.