Box Set: Rune Alexander- Vol. 4-5.5 (Rune Alexander Box Set Book 2)

by Laken Cane

  Because for one long, hot minute, she really wanted to try.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Owen’s lips were warm, his grip hard. He probably didn’t realize he was hurting her as he squeezed her arms. Or maybe he did.

  His kiss was consuming.

  Not in the way the berserker’s was. The berserker was full of power and pain and rage. His kiss was deep, hot. His emotions were intense. His kiss made her immediately lose track of her thoughts. It made her want to wrap her legs around him, sink her teeth into him, devour him.

  In Owen’s kiss was something she couldn’t decipher. Didn’t want to. It would hurt too much.

  It hurt him, whatever it was.

  She didn’t question her weakness concerning Owen.

  It just was.

  But for one heart stopping moment, an image of Z flashed through her mind.

  She shuddered against him and moaned gently into his mouth. His grip on her arms tightened further.

  She let him deepen the kiss. She was going to a place where trouble waited, but trouble was an old, old friend, and it welcomed her with open arms.

  A force like a truck going full speed hit them. It knocked her on her ass and sent Owen slamming into the house across the street.

  “Berserker,” she screamed. “No!”

  He pointed a finger at her, stunning her enough to make her hesitate. “Go home.”

  She dropped her fangs without meaning to. “You—”

  “Rune,” Owen said, somewhat breathlessly. He knelt on the ground, his hair over his face, then grimaced as he stood. “Stay out of this. It’s been a long time coming.”

  The berserker stood with his feet apart, his fists clenched. Once more, he looked at her. “Go home.” His voice was not gentle.

  She heard a sound behind her and whirled around, her anxiety levels high. Lex and Ellie stood there. Ellis had his fist to his mouth, and Lex vibrated a little too fast.

  “Get her out of here,” Owen told them.

  Lex took her arm. “Come on, Rune. You can’t control everything. Let them do what they need to do.”

  “Fuck you,” Rune said, but her words came out in a whisper.

  Ellis took her other arm, like she was either a delicate old lady or an innocent child. And she was neither.

  She growled. “I won’t let—”

  “Leave them be,” Lex interrupted. “It’s not your choice. Let’s go.”

  But she didn’t want to leave them be. Didn’t want to leave them to hurt each other for something that was hers to give—not theirs to take or fight for.

  “Rune,” Strad roared, “get the fuck out of here.”

  “He doesn’t want you to see it,” Ellis said, tugging her arm. “Please, please, Rune. Come home.”

  She had to either go, or she had to watch.

  She couldn’t stop them.

  And she didn’t want to watch.

  So finally, she turned and ran the fuck out of there.

  She didn’t go home. She couldn’t have handled pacing the floors waiting for one of them to walk in the door and tell her other was dead.

  Even questioning the waiting assassin wasn’t something she really cared about right then.

  So she ran to Wormwood.

  “Gunnar,” she yelled, running through the gates.

  He slipped from the shadows, ready, as he nearly always was, for her arrival into the place that had once been his sanctuary.

  “Your Inconsolableness,” he said, and flew to her.

  It was the first time he’d touched her with any sort of comfort or affection in mind. He wrapped his long, skinny arms around her and pulled her to him, against the thin hardness of his chest. “There, there.” He thumped her on back. “There, there.”

  She regained her composure and withdrew, wiping her face.

  “Who has died, Your Horror?”

  “Nobody died, Gunnar.”

  “Then why are you here, wild emotions flying about you as though someone had?”

  “The berserker and Owen are fighting.”

  “Go on.”

  “The berserker and Owen,” she repeated, “are fighting.”

  “And this displeases you?”

  She stared at him. “I don’t like to see people I care about hurting each other.”

  He tilted his head, his fluffy black hair drifting lazily around his shoulders. “It is what people do.”

  She blew out a hard breath and looked away from his sharp gaze. “They’re fighting because of me.”

  His smile was soft. “They are men. They will always fight.”

  She shook her head. “These men don’t just fight. These men…destroy.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I didn’t want to watch them.”

  “Why not?” He was genuinely curious. “If they will, as you fear, kill each other, would you not want to be there to congratulate the victor?”

  She snorted. “Gunnar, sometimes you are a little fucking crazy.” But she grinned.

  “And now you are calm.” He took her by her shoulders and turned her toward the gates. “Go back to your men, dear.” He gave her a small shove. “And do not forget what you are.”

  She was outside the gates when she turned back to face him. “How are you, Gunnar?”

  “I, Your Highness, am lamentably candyless.”

  “I’ll bring you some.” She hesitated. “Gunnar…I have the assassin.”

  He shuddered and took a step back. “And that is another man you should watch. He will get what he needs, in the end.” The he walked closer, and wrapped his fingers around the metal bars of the gate. “But if you are very careful, so will you. Use him, Rune.”

  “Oh, I plan on it.” Then she stiffened her spine and began the run back to the Moor. She was a monster, and if two men were going to beat each other senseless over her, she was going to fucking be there to see it.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The berserker was big, and he was bad.

  But Owen was Shiv Crew for a reason, and he would be a challenge, even for Strad.

  Rune slipped down an alley, glancing at the sky once as it began to drizzle. The day was overcast and cool, and the scent of the oncoming Fall mingled with the other scents of the Moor.

  The closer she got to the fight, the stronger the scent of blood.

  A crowd had gathered in an empty lot beside Grady’s Bar and Grill, and even as she watched a few more people ran out of the bar, swigging beer and yelling cheerfully.

  She cursed when her cell vibrated, and dragged it out to check the display. The Annex was calling. “Yeah?”

  A pause, then, “Rune? Everything okay?”

  “Not a good time, Eugene.” And then, she heard the fight. The thud of flesh against flesh, a crash, and a roar of anger so loud that even the shouts of a gleeful crowd could not drown it out.

  “We’ve found another body, Rune.”

  “Body?” A car whizzed by, going much too fast, and a sound like a gunshot made her jump. The idiots had thrown a bottle at the stop sign.

  “Rune?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. What is it?”

  “Another hanging body was found. In the Moor. I thought you might want to check into it.”

  “Fuck. Where in the Moor?” Then it dawned on her that he was asking her to check into it. “Why do you want Shiv Crew to check it out?”

  “Not Shiv Crew. You.”

  She frowned. “You were letting Bill head this case. Is there something I need to know?”

  “Oh, he’s still heading it. I wanted to involve you since you’ve been in on the killings from the beginning.” His voice was smooth, and she could practically taste the lie. “The victim is nailed to the coffee shop on Green. What are you doing right now?”

  “I’m…getting ready to break up a fight.”

  “All right. Take care of business and I’ll call you later with updates.”

  “Thanks.” She hung up. The conversation had unsettled her. Some
thing was up, but she didn’t have time to think about it right then.

  The crowd parted for her as soon as they saw who she was, and heavy, eager hands pushed at her back, urging her on.

  “Are you going stop them?” a woman asked. “Don’t stop them.”

  “Shut up,” Rune growled.

  It was bad. She could feel it. She could smell it.

  Blood, pain, and sweat.

  Then she was at the front of the crowd and no one stood between her and the two men.

  They circled each other, shivs in hand, bloody, battered, and mean.

  The berserker was a mountain next to the smaller Owen, but Owen was holding his own. That he was still alive almost shocked her.

  Owen suddenly lunged, slicing into Strad’s stomach before leaping at the berserker’s throat. He missed by a whisper when Strad moved.

  Strad’s roar was loud in the dark, quiet day. He grabbed Owen by the throat and with his fist wrapped around his blade, punched Owen in the face.

  She couldn’t breathe as Owen went limp in the berserker’s grip.

  Then, as though he felt her there, Strad looked up and saw her.

  He dropped Owen and strode toward her. Those closest to her gasped and scrambled away from the berserker’s anger.

  “Damn you, Rune.”

  She put her hands on her hips and said nothing.

  “I told you to go home.”

  His right eye was nearly swollen shut, his lip was split, and the front of his tattered shirt was bloody from cuts.

  If the berserker looked that bad, she could only imagine Owen’s injuries. Owen wasn’t even back to full strength yet, and she had no idea how he was able to stand against the berserker.

  She glanced behind Strad to see Owen still lying in the overgrown weeds. But as she watched, he sat up—slowly, but he sat up.

  “Strad, if I ever want someone to tell me what to do, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “You don’t need to watch this.”

  She grasped the hem of his shirt and pushed it up, then leaned forward to run her tongue over the blood coloring his ribs.

  “Holy shit,” someone whispered.

  He grabbed her shoulders, but made no attempt to push her away. “Rune…”

  “I know what I need, Berserker.” She pulled back and grinned. “Go take shit out on Owen. You can come back to me ragged as hell and torn to bits, but neither one of you sons of bitches had better fucking die on me.”

  He knew she was serious.

  He frowned, his eyes glittering in the shadows of his face, but before he could say another word Owen began loping toward him, blades in each hand.

  Strad turned to meet him.

  She was still worried. Still terrified one of them would die.

  But fuck that. She pushed the worry deep. She wasn’t their mother.

  Someone put a hand on her shoulder and she glanced over to find Raze and Jack at her side. They said nothing, just watched the two men fight.

  Once, Owen hit Strad in the eye with the hilt of his knife.

  “Fuck,” Jack murmured. “Not the eye.”

  But Owen could have sliced into the berserker’s eye with his blade if he’d wanted to. Could have sent it into his brain.

  She dug her fingers into her thighs. Assholes.

  Strad shook his head as though trying to shake away the pain in his eye, and once more he and Owen circled each other. A little more slowly, though.

  “Cops,” someone said, and the entire group hastened to disperse, everyone watching seemingly afraid of being arrested.

  It was the Moor, so their fear was likely warranted.

  “Jack,” Rune said, not taking her stare off Strad and Owen.

  “On it,” he said, and went to head off the two cops before they tried to interfere and ended up dead.

  Owen and Strad stopped circling and began to fight in earnest. They fought almost like they were deep in battle and it was life or death.

  There was one difference—they threw down their weapons. No blades, no spears, no guns.

  Blood sprayed and bones crunched—mostly Owen’s—and each time it happened, Rune flinched.

  “Um, Alexander,” someone said, and she looked away to find the cops watching the fight. “They’re going to kill each other.”

  “How are they still alive? You sure you don’t want us to stop them?” the other asked.

  “If you need to die in a hurry,” Raze said, “go ahead.”

  “Raze,” Rune said. “Jack. If I asked you to stop them, would you?”

  He and Jack looked at each other. “Nope,” they said in unison.

  She grinned at them, and Raze winked at her. Jack, maybe still thinking about the knife to the eye, didn’t so much as smile.

  Strad knocked Owen halfway across the lot, and Rune groaned as Owen finally rolled to a halt and lay as still as death.

  The berserker started toward him. His big body was covered with blood and grime. His hair had come out of its band and clung to the sweat of his upper arms. He was so bruised and cut and battered that Rune wondered how he could walk, but he didn’t just walk to Owen, he strode to him.

  And she finally noticed another difference.

  Strad wasn’t raging—he was pissed, yes, and doing something he felt he needed to do, but he wasn’t raging. He was taking care of business.

  And that made her feel a little better, because that meant he wasn’t out to kill Owen.

  Before Strad reached him, Owen stirred.

  “God,” Rune breathed.

  Strad leaned down, wrapped his fist in Owen’s tattered shirt, and yanked him to his feet.

  The cowboy punched the berserker solidly in the throat.

  Not even Strad could ignore that. He took a step back, his hands to his throat.

  Owen tottered, then fell to his knees.

  “Idiots,” Rune muttered.

  Her cell rang and she grabbed it. “What?”

  “Rune,” Lex said. “Levi was…talking with the assassin. The assassin needs bitten so badly he’ll tell you anything you want to know. He knows where Megan is. And he says he’ll tell you about the Shop leader if you’ll feed him. He says…”

  “What, Lex?”

  “He says the baby you delivered is alive. And he said it was normal. Just like you.”

  She was halfway back to her house almost before she realized she’d taken off.

  Normal. Just like her.

  She’d never been called normal in her life.

  She laughed, but even to her ears the laughter held a hint of hope. The assassin would help her find Megan and the baby. She would find them, and she would save them.

  That was the most important thing to her right then, and she didn’t give Strad or Owen another thought as she sped to the assassin.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  She sprinted through her house and to the panic room, her heart beating hard. She put her palm against her chest and wiped at the warm, familiar stickiness of blood. Once again, her stake wounds were seeping.

  “Trade,” the assassin said.

  She pushed her hair out of her face. “Start talking.”

  “I need a glass of water.”

  She studied him. Lex and Denim crowded the doorway, and Levi crouched beside the assassin. He’d taken out some of his darkness on the prisoner. Both Levi and the assassin were messy, flinching, and bloody. One of Levi’s blades lay on the floor at his side.

  Levi looked…disgusted. Disgusted with himself.

  His face was pale and shadowed and his eyes held too much desperation for her to ignore.

  “Levi,” she told him. “Go find Ellie.”

  He shook his head but his eyes moistened.

  She clenched her fists, hating his pain. “Go,” she said, gently, but firmly. “Let Ellie take care of you.”

  “He’s locked himself in his bedroom.” Lex crossed her arms, unhappy, but didn’t move toward Levi.

  “Levi,” Rune said.


  “I can’t.” He rose without another word or glance at anyone and left the room. He wasn’t back, but he was getting closer.

  And really, his anger at Ellie was understandable.

  Levi had allowed the assassin to keep his mask.

  The agonized twin might have been dark, but he wasn’t an asshole.

  The assassin had been dumped onto the floor. His hands were cuffed with zip ties behind him and then attached by a chain to the handle on the bathroom door. His ankles were restrained as well.

  He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “How are we going to work this?” she asked him.

  “You’ll have to trust me.” His voice was rusty and low, but strong.

  He’d been tormented beyond belief by the horrific shit in his past and worse, by his new addiction. He’d tried to kill her.

  Yet there he sat, calmly demanding she trust him.

  She laughed. “That won’t happen, dude.” She hoped he couldn’t hear her desperation.

  She could kill him, easily.

  But a dead assassin was a worthless assassin.

  “I won’t live much longer without your bite,” he said, as though she’d never spoken. “I wouldn’t want to. I have two options. I can die, or I can…”

  “What? You can what?”

  “I can offer you my services. Myself. I can become Shiv Crew.”

  No one moved, or spoke. Maybe no one breathed.

  “No,” Rune said, finally. “Not possible.”

  “Shiv Crew extra, then,” he said. “Let me live and I’ll disappear until you need me. Or until I have info to trade.” He shrugged. “Right now I need your bite. In return I will give you the Shop head and the girl.”

  She squatted in front of him. “You have a lot of secrets, don’t you?”

  He said nothing.

  Denim brought in a glass of water, then held it to the assassin’s mouth before putting the half empty glass on the floor beside Rune.

  “I have you,” she told him. “I’ll leave you restrained while I bite you. Afterward, you’ll give me the information I need or I’ll leave you here to suffer until you rot. Deal?”

  He didn’t care that she might bite him and keep him restrained. He couldn’t care, because the bite was so close.

  He shuddered, but kept his stare on hers. His eyes were like diamonds through the mask holes. “Deal.”