Unchained Beauty (Deadly Beauties Live On Book 5)

by C. M. Owens

  Their breaths get shakier.

  “If I did it wrong, you’ll be stuck like this,” I add, my whisper taunting as I bend over, putting my face right between theirs as we all three continue to watch the horror show.

  “Unable to scream. Unable to beg for mercy. Unable to do anything but watch your family be brutally ripped apart. Frozen in this state for possibly hours. Like so many of those Hannah practiced on.”

  Slade begins dragging John out by the hair of his head, though the rest of the house has gone silent.

  He stops when he sees me, and I straighten again, still holding both of my captives in place. His eyes dart to the men on their knees at my sides, my index claws pressed into their necks.

  John’s eyes widen on me. “Ella...you…have…to…help,” he wheezes, the anointed weapon slowly killing him from the gut-stab where it’s still wedged.

  If Slade were an anointed, there would be black veins appearing on John by now. Too bad Leah’s not here to help right the wrongs of her ancestors.

  “I am helping,” I tell him with a smirk, then look back to see Slade narrow his eyes on the men I’m holding.

  He sits John up, like he’s been allowing him to watch the whole show.

  “They’re not involved,” John says through a wheeze, eyes wide as I push the first one off my nail, sending him to the ground at Slade’s feet.

  Slade drags him up, grabbing him by the throat when the guy tries to dematerialize.

  “Roland Trout. Informant and transporter,” Slade growls, looking over at John, who pales. “Trust me, I know every person I’ve killed here today,” he continues.

  Roland thrashes, screaming in agony when Slade starts slicing him. I lean down to the other’s ear.

  “Guess I did it right on him. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance of me doing it right my first time,” I say to the guy at my side, as Roland’s body begins to jerk, and he releases another bloodcurdling scream.

  John whimpers from the ground, tears rolling down his cheeks as Slade drops Roland’s limp, shredded body to his lap.

  The guy beside me stares, using his eyes to implore John to do something. I press my lips to his ear as I whisper, “That anointed weapon you received as a gift is severing his spine. He can’t move unless someone pulls it out. See if you can try.”

  I remove my claw from his neck, smirking when he stays in place, muffled sounds coming from him as his pupils dilate, panic taking him over.

  “Guess I did yours wrong,” I say dispassionately as Slade stalks over and grabs him by his neck, lifting his limp body from the ground.

  I walk over to John, watching him watch one of his kin die in front of his eyes.

  “Landon,” John chokes out.

  “It’s brutal, isn’t it?” I ask John, who turns a glare on me, then jerks his attention back to Slade.

  “You have no idea what you’ve done,” he growls, tears still leaking. “You’ll regret this when my kind turns against you.”

  Landon screams behind closed lips as Slade uses his other clawed hand to shred him, staring into his eyes the entire time.

  “It’s a mercy compared to what they did to everyone in those rings. I’d toss you in our own prisons, but they’re not quite as effective at shattering immortal bodies and minds, and I’d rather you be stuck in hell,” I add. “And your kind are under the royal rule, John. It’s not your world anymore.”

  “We’ll see,” he growls.

  “I’ll see. I doubt you will,” I retort, feeling fire in my veins as I continue to watch Slade finally taste something other than disappointment as he relishes this sweet revenge.

  Once Slade is finished, he tosses that body to John’s lap as well, and he stares down at the original traitor.

  “Ella, I need you to turn away,” Slade says, his hand bumping mine as I straighten.

  “I want to watch.”

  He turns his silver glare on me. “I need you to look away, or I won’t be able to kill him as painfully as I want to,” he bites out.

  Seeing the sincere plead in his eyes, I turn my back. It’s the best I’ll do, under the circumstances.

  He leans over, his lips brushing my ear. “You were never supposed to be this perfect,” he tells me.

  He moves away, and I stare out over the grassy hills as John’s terrorized screams echo through the lands.

  Memories crash through my head, the months leading up to this since the day I first saw Slade.

  He was wearing a mask, standing in the forest as we examined the first wave of offense Hannah flung at us after the rings were disbanded.

  The first words I heard him speak were almost lost on me, as he tried to explain what we were facing—giving us just enough information. Introducing a piece of himself to us—to me.

  John’s scream ignites the air even louder, hitting a shrill pitch. I don’t glance over my shoulder, but I feel the blood splatter against the backs of my legs.

  “Just helping you out, Princess.” Those are the first words I can remember him speaking directly to me, while he had that mask on his face, yet not hiding his secretive smirk.

  Part of me knew he was mine then, but I stayed the good girl, focusing on the situations at hand.

  “Why did the masked crusader act like he knew you?” I remember Thad asking me. Just Slade’s voice had vibrated in my bones, but I kept it to myself. Just his presence and the growl in his tone seemed so familiar in ways I couldn’t explain.

  The slave tattoos inked on him have always been overshadowed by the scars on his body and the menace in his eyes.

  My lips twitch when John stops screaming and starts begging to be killed. I can’t see it, but I get a basic rundown as John continues to beg without an ounce of pride left.

  Slade is forcing him drink the blood of one of his sons to heal. He’s a simple dark user, but I suppose Slade knows tricks to pull this off. The rules of magic don’t apply to a man who has seen every work-around there is. Witnessed the sickening experiments firsthand.

  Even though I’m curious how this particular trick works, considering it’d be useful information, I keep my promise, not looking, letting my mind continue to wander.

  “Ah, princess, I should have known you’d follow me,” Slade said to me during another encounter.

  He dropped all the clues, leading me down this path, possibly thinking I’d never follow him to the end.

  “I don’t feel right killing someone who isn’t fighting,” he said once upon a time, even as he continues to currently shred the non-fighting John.

  I examine my nails, since this is going to take a while if he continues to heal him while tearing him open, and I have nothing better to do.

  My mind strays to the first time we fought, how good it truly felt to be free. My control began slipping more and more and more after that, almost as though my beasts were screaming for me to recognize him.

  “Eyes on me,” he’d demanded when I stopped him from killing Roslyn the first time.

  Kya was even the first to reveal his name to me. Right before I let go and really unleashed my magic for the first true time. He was begging me to do it, almost like he knew I’d fall under the madness and he’d be there to catch me.

  He protected Kya from me, as I protected Roslyn from him.

  The collision of our powers was so beautiful. My white power that has grown exponentially, dragging me into the darkness so much deeper since that day.

  He took me to his homemade prison full of moving colors and dizzying walls. Cared for me, in his own, peculiar way. I had memories then...before the blinking caused the total blackouts…

  I was growing stronger. He was making me stronger. He was preparing me for the depths of depravity I never could have understood without working to earn every single piece of information we could find—instead of simply hearing it from eager lips.

  The darkness inside him that I’m tethered to…the places he has to go…the places I have to go…

  He’s spent all this
time preparing me, because he wanted me to be strong. Strong enough to endure the things we’ve had to face already, and the things yet to come.

  Hannah used those rings to best assemble a mindless army full of brutalized, loyal warriors, whether they wanted it or not. But she never got Slade, and because of him, she never got me.

  John is currently regretting the side he chose.

  Speaking of which, his torture goes on for hours, so I eventually move back to go grab my phone, finding it still recording. I stop the recording, returning just as Slade steps away from what little remains of John’s body.

  His silver eyes glimmer, and he stares at me like he’s still the predator.

  “You were an animal even in flesh,” I tell him as he cants his head from one side to another, studying me. “I need to learn how to do what you just did—release the beasts without constantly shifting. It would help me.”

  He stays silent for a minute, the claws retracting. His shirt was ripped off long ago during the fight, and his few wounds seal shut, leaving behind no fresh scars. The blood of his victims is all over him, though.

  “That’s all you have to say?” he asks quietly, narrowing his eyes at me.

  “I recorded his confession,” I add, my lips pursing as I try to decide when to tell him about the Lokie. Now seems like a terrible time, since his beasts are still so—

  He’s on me in the next second, moving so fast that it startles me, and his lips crash against mine. It’s the most violent kiss I’ve gotten from him yet, and it’s also the most devouring, soul-searing, carnal kiss of my life.

  He reaches between us, and he rips my dress down the front before tearing it away from my body completely. Since I’ve been shifting so much, I’m not wearing anything else, not even shoes.

  A growl vibrates his chest as he lifts me from the ground. The taste of blood enters my mouth—the blood of the enemies slain by his hands.

  I feel the wind kissing my bare skin, but I’m not sure if he’s running or dematerializing us, nor do I give a damn. My body feels like every nerve is drawn to him, needing to be as close as possible as I roll my hips and kiss him even harder.

  My fingers tangle in his hair as grass hits my back, and he comes down on top of me. His pants seem to vanish from his body so that I feel bare skin gliding against me instead of denim.

  My moan is laced with my own little growl, and he tears his mouth away. Familiar frustration hits me when I fear he’s about to leave me, but his eyes merely rake over my body.

  My eyes do the same, taking in all his bare skin and the fact he’s certainly aroused. He drags a hand down my chest, trailing it down the valley of my breasts, and I arch my hips toward him.

  With a groan, he comes back down to me, giving me his neck. I don’t even hesitate. My fangs form without prompting, and I bite into him for the first time, feeling the power of his blood wash through me as I burn for more.

  He forces my mouth away, then his lips find mine briefly before moves in a blur, his mouth latching onto my neck this time. I suck in air when I feel his venom shoot through me, the erotic power of it almost toe-curling as my body starts to burn for a different, more desperate reason.

  He’s still latched on when he thrusts in hard, no warning at all. I cry out, but he grips my hips and keeps thrusting, awakening all the desire I’ve tried so hard to suppress since the first time I saw him.

  Since the first time he called me Princess like he knew everything there was to know about me, I’ve been desperate for this, denying every instinct inside me the right to have him.

  His lips find mine, and our blood mingles in our own mouths with the kiss, as his body continues to move over mine, pushing me up on the soft grass. We flip with me coming down on top of him, and I sit up, rolling my hips as I put one hand down on his chest.

  He lies back, watching me for a moment, his hands roaming my body and grabbing one of my breasts before he sits up and bites into the top swell of the one he’s holding.

  My breath hitches, and I work my hips faster, pulling his face closer as my head tips back, just reveling in the sensations of the warmth that is spreading through my veins.

  The clear sky abruptly clouds over, thunder and lightning crashing at once, as the wind starts to stir around us. I can feel the power rolling off him, and his silver eyes meet mine when I look back down.

  He flips me to be on my back again, just as the rain crashes down on us, washing away the blood of the enemies from him as I lean up, latching onto his shoulder this time when I bite down.

  So many images flash through my head with the bite, almost like we’ve done this hundreds of thousands of times. For a second, I see us in a bed I’ve never seen before, one with yellow daisies on the spread under us as he leisurely takes his time with me. The sun is streaking in as he rolls me to my side and slides in from behind me as he bites into my shoulder.

  Then I’m back in the present, where the rain is pummeling us and a violent storm rages overhead, while Slade fucks me like he’s wanted to do this his entire life.

  The orgasm hits me so hard that I cry out, but my sounds are drowned out by the lightning that crashes in sync with the sound. His lips seal over mine again, and my nails rake down his back, only fueling him as he continues to move in and out of me.

  He breaks the kiss, his eyes almost glowing as he presses his cheek to mine. The lightning crashes closer, and a rumble of thunder rolls through when his hips still inside me. I barely hear the raw sound he makes near my ear.

  His lips drag across my cheek until he’s kissing me again, his body shuddering, and my fingers slide up into his hair, holding him to me because I’m so afraid he’s going to turn cold and leave me here without him.

  Chapter 22

  SLADE

  My heart is still pounding in my ears, and it feels like every inch of me is fused to her. I did it.

  I fucking claimed her. Marked her, even if it can’t be seen.

  Early in the fight, I sent my journal back to my cabin, intending to keep it safe. So I didn’t have it here to remind me of what my plans are, and I fucking claimed her. Had to.

  How could I not?

  “How the hell did you get here?” I ask, still a little breathless, as I stare down at her.

  The rain eases until it stops completely, and the dark skies start to clear as she begins to run her fingers down my arm, her touch so light and soft that it’s mesmerizing.

  “About that, I’d rather not say in this moment,” she states matter-of-factly.

  My head comes up, and I stare down expectantly.

  “Why” I ask, narrowing my eyes on her.

  “Because if you get pissed off and storm away from me after what we just did, it’ll hurt more than it has in the past,” she says quietly, looking away. “I don’t want to feel like this was just your way of severing that final bond.”

  Inwardly groaning, my forehead drops to hers, and I whisper, “I’ll be taking you with me when we leave. You’re officially mine, Princess. You’ve fucked it all to hell, just like I always knew you would.”

  “Fucked what all to hell?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine.

  My gaze searches hers, but I can’t explain the plans without the journal, for whatever reason.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I say to her instead, lifting her with me as I stand.

  She leans into me, even after watching me shred an entire family, and my arms go around her as I draw her close.

  “I need to get my phone first,” she says as she kisses my chest.

  Her phone appears in my hand, and she glances down, lips twitching.

  “That works too,” she tells me as I dematerialize us.

  She heaves out a breath when we land in my cabin, and she looks around as if in shock. “You can teleport like Lokies?” she asks, confused. “How?”

  “I can travel faster and for longer distances than most when I dematerialize, but I can’t teleport. I can, however, drink dragonite blood and it fixes tha
t issue temporarily, so long as it’s in my system.

  I pick up my own phone from the counter, glancing down at it, seeing encrypted updates from the other successes of the day.

  “You launched an attack today. You could have at least given us a head’s up,” she says a little angrily.

  Seeing me shred a council-related family doesn’t bother her. Hell, it turned her on. But not giving her a ‘head’s up’ bothers her?

  This is why I couldn’t be strong any longer. Where the hell is my journal?

  “I didn’t want you getting yourself killed for me,” I grumble, searching through all the damn ledgers that look like my journal.

  Why the hell did I put them on the same table my journal is spelled to return to? They all look exactly like it, and it’s not popping into my hand with the summoning spell I’m using because I’m too drained from the double cross-continent trips.

  “What are you looking for?” she asks just as I give up my quest to find my journal and walk toward her on the bed.

  Her eyes bounce up to meet mine, and I shove her back before coming down on top of her. She wants to be mad at me, but she can’t be. It’s been the design flaw from the beginning, because she’s never hated me like I wanted her to.

  And for the first time in too long, I’m thinking about the day after the war.

  She kisses me. Hard. And I forget why we’re even bothering to talk when I’ve waited so long and fought so hard against her, only to finally have her right now.

  When she moans into my mouth, I push her legs farther apart and slide into her, relishing that small hitch in her breath as she rakes those nails over me again.

  For a little while longer, I forget there’s another world to even think about. We still have time left to worry about the war. We still have time left to worry about what happens next.

  Right now, I just want to lose myself in her the way I’ve dreamed about for centuries.

  Chapter 23