“I’ve seen her feed before,” he said, like it was some beautiful, intimate act she’d shared with him.
“On you?”
Vazel’s gaze dropped in embarrassment. “My blood is not pure enough for her. It will not sustain her.”
“Gee. Tough break.”
His weepy eyes jerked back up at the sound of Eric’s sarcasm. “You don’t realize how lucky you are that she wants you. If it weren’t against her orders, I’d kill you where you stand.”
“So she did order you not to kill me. Good to know.”
“Don’t push me, Slayer. Right now the scales are balanced—I have as much reason to kill you as to let you live. If you tip that in my favor, I won’t hesitate to do what I crave so deeply and empty your bones of the meat you carry.”
Lovely image. “Fine, then. We’ll be best buddies, because we both want the same thing: me not touching Treszka. Get me and the kids out of here and I’ll make that happen.”
“I would never defy her so openly. She’d kill me. Worse yet, I’d disappoint her, and that I won’t do.”
This dude really did have a huge crush on Queen Gaping Maw. Guess there was someone for everyone out there.
“So, what do we do? I’d just as soon keep her hands off my junk. How do we make that happen? Because when she goes slinging that magic around, there’s not a thing I can do to stop her.”
“No one can stop her. It is our pleasure to witness her getting her heart’s desire.”
“Not mine, buddy.”
“You’ll do what she wants. Maybe not today, but soon. You already belong to her.”
That pissed Eric off more than just about anything. “I don’t belong to anyone. If she pushes me, she’ll learn that the hard way.”
Vazel’s fleshy mouth wrinkled in what Eric guessed was a grin. “I may not see you as anything more than a tasty adversary, but I will take great joy in raising your young as one of our own. Uncle Vazel.”
Eric’s body temperature dropped about ten degrees with the chill that flooded his veins. “Never going to happen.”
Vazel shrugged his grotesquely hunched shoulders. “Resist Treszka all you like. Every Slayer child she sacrifices to soften your stubbornness is simply one fewer meal I must find to feed our troops. Eventually, you’ll run out of young and she’ll stop playing nice.”
Behind him, the young whimpered and sobbed quietly. Except for Kayla. She ground her teeth and growled at Vazel.
“I won’t let you hurt them,” said Eric.
“You won’t be able to stop it. The sooner you accept that, the more of your young get to live. It’s your choice, Slayer. I suggest you choose wisely. She’ll be coming for you soon.”
Chapter 22
The howl of rage and sorrow that spewed out of Joseph scared Lyka more than the surprise demon attack had.
She’d never heard a sound like that—so raw and wounded, so hopeless and hollow.
After that observation, she wasn’t given a chance for another. Her whole world was enveloped in frigid pain. It started in her shoulders and hips, where the demon’s claws had pierced her skin, and swiftly traveled to every other part of her body.
She collapsed where she stood, unable to do anything more than let out a scream of agony.
More demons broke through the trees, heading straight for her. She couldn’t move to defend herself. Her body was too sluggish, too swamped with pain. Every time she twitched a muscle, a burst of cold fire went off inside her nerves. She couldn’t even roll out of the way.
Joseph leapt over her to stand between her and the incoming demons. He cut through them with brutal force, mowing them down like weeds. A pile of bodies covered in greasy, matted fur grew at his feet as yet another demon fell to his flashing sword.
She’d seen men fight before. Skirmishes often broke out between young Slayers searching for their place in the pack. But she’d never seen the kind of controlled violence that Joseph was laying out. There was no frenzy in him, only lethal skill delivered with cold intellect.
Beneath the haze of pain inhabiting her body, she could sense the chill of his emotions freezing the conduit that linked them. He was keeping his head and dealing with the threat to her life. Deep inside he was howling in fear and desperation, but he let none of that cloud his thinking. He controlled his emotions, not the other way around.
Lyka wanted to reassure him. He was terrified for her. In fact, he was already grieving for her, as if he thought she were dead.
She tried to send some kind of comfort through the tiny thread running between them, but her desire to ease him was too big to fit. All that seemed to trickle through was a faint strand of concern for him.
At least he’d know she was still alive.
The pain in her body began to fade as her limbs went numb. The poison was spreading through her system, making it harder to breathe.
Slayers were immune to most poisons. They’d been designed to be able to engage in hand-to-hand combat with Synestryn demons and still survive. That trait had been strengthened through the generations with careful breeding. The strongest members of the pack would reproduce, ensuring that the next generation of Slayer was tougher than the last.
Lyka’s brothers had been poisoned by demons in multiple battles and survived, but they’d both been gifted with their father’s genes.
Lyka hadn’t. Her father was Athanasian. She had no way of knowing if the immunity to poison passed on by her mother would be enough to save her.
The last of the demons fell at Joseph’s feet. Her body was so numb, it felt dead. The remnants of the pain were nearly gone now, but in its place was an empty kind of weakness—almost as if she had no body.
He was breathing hard when he turned to her. Panic lined his face, digging deep grooves around his mouth. “Hang on, Lyka.”
There was nothing else she could do.
He wiped the black blood from his sword on the fur of the dead and sheathed it. As soon as his hands were empty, he bent down to pick her up.
“Don’t touch the poison,” she reminded him. Her voice was weak and breathless, but at least she could still speak.
Theronai weren’t immune to sgath poison. If he so much as brushed her wounds, it could be absorbed by his skin and incapacitate him. If that happened, they were both as good as dead. It wouldn’t be long before another pack of demons smelled her blood and came to snack on their paralyzed bodies.
He gave her a hasty nod and stripped out of his shirt. He used it to pad her wounds and keep the oily poison off his skin.
“I’ve got you,” he said as he carried her to the truck. “Just hang on. Ronan isn’t far away.”
“I’ll be okay.” She hoped.
A pulse of grief spilled out of him.
Her words were slurred, and she hoped he could understand her. “I’m a Slayer, remember? Poison can’t hurt me.”
Except it had. Her brothers wouldn’t have even felt the effects of this much sgath poison. The fact that she did made her wonder just how much Slayer was really in her.
“I’m sure you’re right,” he said, but she could tell he was lying.
They were back at the truck. He carefully tucked her in the seat and buckled her seat belt.
She couldn’t move anymore. Even her head lolled to the side.
He leaned the seat back so she wouldn’t flop around so much and then hurried around to the driver’s side of the truck. When he got in, he was already on the phone.
“Pick up,” he all but shouted. When the person on the other end didn’t, he left a message. “Call me back, Ronan. Lyka’s been poisoned. I need you. Now!”
He dialed the phone again, and this time, whoever he’d called answered. “Lyka’s been poisoned,” he said.
There was a man’s voice on the other end of the line, his tone one of calm reassurance.
>
“Yes, but she’s also half Theronai,” said Joseph.
A chill passed through her body, leaving her trembling in its wake.
“Ronan didn’t answer his damn phone.” Tires spun and spit gravel as he peeled out. “I don’t care what he’s doing. This is more important.”
Another shiver racked her body so hard, it was nearly a convulsion. Every muscle in her was knotted and frozen, only now the numbness was starting to wear off and the pain was coming back with a vengeance.
Layered over that was a sharp increase in the worry flowing out of Joseph. That tiny pipeline between them was so clogged with fear, there was no room left for her to reassure him.
“I’ll be fine.” The words came out through her chattering teeth, robbing them of all confidence.
Joseph’s hand settled on her arm, so hot it nearly burned her. She jerked involuntarily as she hissed in pain.
“It’s getting worse,” he said into the phone. “She’s running out of time. I’m headed toward you as fast as I can go.”
The truck went airborne over a bump in the road. She was unable to control her body enough to compensate for the motion, which left her slinging around in the seat like a rag doll. If not for the seat belt, she would have sloshed over into his lap.
A heavy black cloud of confusion started to form over her, sinking down to consume her as it grew. She didn’t know where it came from or why it was there, but she knew that it wasn’t good.
Another hard shiver grabbed hold of her body and shook her. This time, the shaking didn’t ease. It got worse. Just as one wave of cold pain subsided, the next one slammed into her, stealing her breath. After a few of them, she wasn’t able to breathe at all.
The black cloud expanded to fill the entire truck and swallowed her whole.
Her last conscious thought was that she’d failed. She’d failed Eric and the young by not finding them. She’d failed Joseph by not being the partner he needed her to be. And she’d failed her people by not doing her duty and killing more demons when she had the chance. She’d barely even scratched the surface on what she’d wanted to do with her life, and already it was over.
Chapter 23
Ronan ignored his phone’s incessant buzzing as he raced toward the woman he sought. He’d already had to use precious power to convince a police officer that he’d imagined the pale man in the van doing 110 down the highway.
Touching the mind of a human with whom he had no blood bond, and at that distance, had been difficult but necessary.
His mystery woman—his savior—had started moving toward him.
There was no way he was going to let whatever emergency had popped up now deter him from finding her. She so rarely stopped, or even slowed down, the idea of her drawing nearer was almost inconceivable. He had to take advantage of the opportunity while it was still available to him.
A twinge of guilt over ignoring his phone hit his conscience, but he shrugged it away. If his instincts were right, then what he was doing now was far more important than anything that Joseph might want.
Normally, such thoughts would give him pause, but his compulsion to find her was far too great for him to fight.
She’d saved his life, given him her blood. He was connected to her so acutely, he knew when she grew tired or afraid. He knew when she was hungry and when she laughed, which wasn’t nearly often enough.
He’d fed from thousands of people in his long lifetime, and while he’d felt a connection to each of them, too, it was nothing like it was with her.
He ached without her. Craved her.
She was his.
When he finally found her again, he would make sure she accepted that. Make sure she never ran from him again. He would force her to answer some questions so he could understand why he felt the way he did about a woman whose name he didn’t even know.
Another set of flashing blue lights appeared in his rearview mirror. He focused his gaze on the man behind the wheel, compelling him to blindness with a single, brutal compulsion.
The cruiser veered onto the shoulder and came to an abrupt stop.
The policeman would regain his vision in an hour or so—just long enough to make sure that Ronan had time to cross the state line into Nebraska.
His mystery woman was only hours away now, drawing closer with each minute that passed. Soon she would be in his grasp, and he’d never let go of her again.
* * *
Eric jerked away from the guards that had hauled his ass through the cave system back to Treszka’s quarters.
She was beautiful, dressed in a green silk gown this time. It shimmered with some kind of golden thread that sparkled as it clung to deceptively inviting curves. Her breasts spilled out over the top, begging for a man’s touch the way only a woman could.
Not a woman. A demon. He kept reminding himself of that, of what was under that flap of hair on her head.
A spread of fragrant food was laid out on a table set with two plates. There were so many smells bombarding him, it was hard to tell what she was serving, other than some kind of lamb.
“Hungry?” she asked, waving in invitation for him to sit.
“Not really. I’d rather eat with the young.”
She glowered at him. “Sit, or they won’t eat at all tonight.”
So it was night now? He’d long ago lost track of the passage of days. He could barely feel the pull of the moon on him down here, well out of its reach.
Which was probably just as well. The closer it got to a full moon, the more his libido would flare, and the harder it was going to be for Eric to remember that the beautiful creature who wanted to fuck him was a demon.
Eric sat, just to get her to leave the kids alone. The poor things had already been through more than their fair share of fear and trauma down here. He’d do whatever it took to protect them as much as possible for as long as he could.
Kayla would be the first one they’d kill. She was fierce and hard to control. They’d get rid of her before she could rile the others to create trouble. At least that’s what he’d do if he were in charge. The idea of never seeing that aggressive little half-pint again was enough to encourage him to behave himself.
He even pulled Treszka’s chair out and smoothed a napkin over his grubby jeans, as if this were the finest restaurant in town. If playing civilized gentleman kept the kids safe for another night, it was worth the lie.
She ladled something from a pot into his bowl. He could smell about twenty different spices he couldn’t name, but none of them seemed toxic.
He waited until she took the first bite, just to be sure.
“Vazel informed me that he told you why you’re here,” she said.
“As a sperm bank?”
“Yes.”
Eric lifted his eyes from his spoon to stare at her. “Never going to happen.”
“I’m unconcerned about your intent—only your worthiness.”
“I’m definitely not worthy.”
“Your blood says otherwise. You’re stronger than your kind are reputed to be. Can you shift?”
“No,” he lied a little too fast.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Your goons saw the extent of my ability when they attacked our settlement. I get some claws and teeth, but that’s about it.”
“Why do you smell like you’re lying?”
“Believe me. If I could have wolfed out on your idiot brigade, I would have. The fact that they were able to capture me is proof to the contrary.”
She pondered that for a minute, like she was trying to decide if she believed it or not.
The truth was, Eric could shift all the way into his wolf form, but only when the moon was full and only when Mother Nature decided it was time. It was completely out of his control.
Kayla, on the other hand, had shown some inclination t
oward controlling her shift. She was the generation after Eric and Andreas, and their careful breeding laws had proved to be working. Each generation was stronger than the last—more Slayer, less human. It was hard to know for sure how well she’d be able to control it until she was a little older.
He hoped like hell she’d live that long.
He’d nearly finished his meal when he felt a subtle shift in his body temperature. His kind ran hot, but he was starting to sweat, despite how chilly it was down here underground.
Treszka regarded him with a knowing smile. “Something wrong?”
His skin started to tingle, and all that hot blood began pooling in his groin. “You drugged me?”
Her satisfied grin was answer enough. “Why do you say that?”
Within seconds, he had an erection hard enough to hammer railroad spikes. “It doesn’t matter what you do or how horny I get. I still won’t fuck a demon.”
All amusement faded from her face. She bared her teeth in a snarl. “I’m your queen.”
“You’re my captor. My warden.”
“I’m the mother of your future children.”
“I’d sooner cut off my own dick than breed you.”
That was the wrong thing to say if ever there was one.
Eric flew across the room, kicking over the table and the rest of the food as he went. Soup splashed across the hem of her silk gown as he slammed into the rock wall and stayed there.
She looked down at it in fury. “See what you did?”
He didn’t dare speak. Not now. Even if he could catch his breath. As it was, his ribs were being crushed by the magical force that held him in place. The pain of his bindings grew, especially against his cock, which finally decided to retreat.
Whatever she’d dosed him with had been strong, but so was the pain she inflicted. And Eric wasn’t into pain.
She grabbed the front of her dress and ripped it. Then she stepped out of it, revealing a body fit for the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. She was completely naked under the silk, without so much as a thong to hide her nudity.
Binding Ties Page 18