“You shouldn’t have done that,” he admonished, lowering her gently to the floor.
“Did it work?” she slurred.
“Not a bit,” he told her.
“Figures.” She lolled her head to the side, spotting one of her pistols on the floor nearby. She hadn’t even realized she’d dropped them. She stretched toward it, and Ashton had the good sense to scoop it up and hand it to her. Then he stiffened in alarm and let go of her, shouting, “Zach, no!”
Riley whipped her head around and hauled herself upright in time to see Zachariah running down the stairs, Ashton scrambling awkwardly to his feet to race after him. “Oh hell, you’re not doing this without me,” she said. Despite the exhaustion she felt that made her want to curl up and sleep, she found her own feet and charged after them, more cautiously than the others had, her pistol up and ready to fire. She’d shoot anything that wasn’t one of her friends and that didn’t kill her first.
What greeted her at the bottom of the stairs made her heart stutter, and she hesitated, assessing the situation. Zachariah stood several feet from the base of the stairs, looking almost frozen; Ashton was just behind him, tugging at his arm like he was trying to get him to snap out of a trance. Ahm was across from him, her arms folded, her hip cocked like a diva, an expression of intense interest on her face as she stared at Zachariah—or was it Ashton? Brandon Hall—damn the bastard to the seventh circle of Hell—stood beyond Ahm, a pistol in his hand and pointed at Riley. At his feet lay the sand-colored wolf that Riley guessed was Jax, its sides heaving as it bled on the floor, faint whistles of pain coming from its nose. Two other men stood on either side of Brandon, semi-automatic rifles in their hands.
Scott, however, was Riley’s biggest concern. The big bald guy stood halfway between Brandon and Ahm, one arm extended, his hand clasped around Scott’s throat. His arm was elevated, lifting Scott up enough that he had to stand on his toes to keep from choking. Scott was naked, his bare skin streaked with blood, and both of his hands were clasped around the man’s wrist, his eyes wide with alarm. Even as Riley watched, the man tightened his grip on Scott’s throat, not enough to completely cut off his air but sufficient to cause harm.
“Miss Walker,” Ahm said in a cool, collected tone that suggested she held all the cards—and she knew it. “How nice of you to join us. Why don’t you put your weapon on the ground, nice and slow, and move behind the sales counter? I think it’s time we had a little chat.”
Zachariah felt like he was frozen in place, like something had locked up his limbs and wouldn’t turn loose. He strained against the sensation, his muscles tensing as he tried to break free, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even tear his eyes away from Ahm’s. He felt Ashton beside him, and he wondered if he too was frozen or if he wasn’t sure what he could do.
Zachariah really, really wanted to reach for his gun.
He heard Riley do what Ahm told her, though he was pretty sure she wasn’t happy about it.
“You two should join Miss Walker,” Ahm added, jerking her chin toward Zachariah and Ashton. With that motion, he felt his control over his own body reassert itself. Ashton grasped his arm and tugged him to join Riley behind the checkout counter. “Go get the other two,” Ahm added, directing the words to the men behind her. “Tell them to come out and join us.” One of the men with the rifles went to do as she’d bid.
Zachariah kept his eyes on the woman as he backed behind the counter, pressing against Riley and Ashton as he stood protectively between them and the woman. There was a commotion somewhere at the back of the store, and moments later, Tate and Marie appeared, goaded toward the cash register by the armed man who’d gone to retrieve them. They had their hands in the air, and Tate was sporting the beginnings of what would probably be a spectacular black eye come morning.
“Good,” Ahm said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you three.” She nodded politely in Zachariah’s direction, like she was greeting someone at a cocktail party. He scowled and curled his hands into fists at his sides. He wanted to punch something. Really badly. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Clearly, Scott had talked when he’d been held captive. Zachariah couldn’t hold that against him; he’d been in that position before too and hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut, either.
“It’s always nice to see one of mine up and about and doing so well for himself,” Ahm continued, her gaze riveted on Zachariah. “You look good. Vampirism agrees with you.”
“I’m not a vampire,” Zachariah bit out.
“You were one,” Ahm replied. “And you still are, to some extent. Even for those who escape it, it never completely goes away. It always…lingers. Because once a soul is damaged by darkness, it never really heals.” Her eyes drifted to Riley, and Zachariah felt his sister stiffen. “Miss Walker,” she greeted. “I see you’re starting to play around with your abilities a little bit. Though they’re not really yours. You shouldn’t let divine things attach themselves to your soul. They leave marks.” Her eyes flitted down, like she was looking at Riley’s hands, and then she focused on Ashton. The smile on her face spread wider, shifting into something that could only be described as wicked. Zachariah scowled, resisting the urge to shoot the expression off her face. He didn’t like the way she looked at Ashton, like he was a slab of fresh meat that she wanted to eat. Ashton was his, and he’d be damned if he let some bitch like her hone in on that territory.
Something about the hunger in her eyes when she looked at Ashton disturbed him. Even beyond his anger, he recognized it for what it was: pure, unadulterated desire. Not the type of desire that came with sexual attraction. No, this was desire for something she wanted to own very, very badly.
“Who are they?” Ahm asked, nodding her head toward Tate and Marie, her voice cutting through Zachariah’s thoughts.
The armed man who’d ushered them into the room stepped closer to the two and said, “Humans. No one special. But one of them is a cop. I saw a uniform shirt in the office.”
“Oh, really?” Ahm turned her attention to Tate and Marie, studying them. Then she said, “You know what to do with them.”
Two gunshots rang out, and Tate and Marie fell to the floor. Zachariah flinched with each shot, and behind him, Riley gasped and pushed forward, like she intended to go to them.
“Riley, don’t,” he ordered. She stilled, though he could practically feel her vibrating with the need to help them. He kept his eyes on Ahm as she returned her attention to the three of them.
The bald man still had Scott by the throat. He was turning a little blue, and his fingernails were darkening, lengthening into the vicious claws that werewolves were known for. The wolf in him—which had somehow been forced into retreat when Scott had attacked their intruders—seemed to be trying to reassert itself, perhaps in a desperate attempt to save both itself and Scott. Ahm cast a clinical glance at Scott, as if she were assessing how much longer he could survive the grip the bald man had on his throat, then looked back at them. Zachariah slid a half step sideways, putting himself directly in her line of sight of Ashton, blocking her view of the man.
“What do you want?” he demanded, taking the lead. “Why are you here?”
“Well, initially I came looking for this one,” Ahm said, jerking her thumb back at Scott. He let out a soft, choked noise and dug his fingers into the bald man’s arm harder, his lengthening claws cutting into his skin; the man was completely unperturbed by the trickle of blood that oozed down his arm. “But now I see there’s a bigger prize to be had here, and he’s just a happy little bonus.”
“What are you talking about?” Zachariah asked. “You better start talking straight or—”
“Or what?” Ahm interrupted, the look in her black eyes daring him to finish the sentence.
“She means me,” Ashton spoke up, stepping from behind Zachariah. Zachariah fought the impulse to grab him and shove him behind him again as he stepped forward in front of them.
“Points to the smart one,” Ahm qui
pped.
“Let Scott go,” Ashton said. “Now.” The authority in his voice was unmistakable, and Zachariah grew nervous as he worried what Ahm would do if she took offense to Ashton ordering her around.
To his amazement, Ahm laughed. Even Brandon, who’d thus far been silent, looked at her with a startled expression on his face. “Oh, look at you,” she said, her tone lighthearted. “Acting as if you still have the authority you wielded so long ago. I’d consider it adorable if that wasn’t a word for puppies.”
“Do I know you?” Ashton asked.
“Do you know me?” she said with a chuckle. “You must be kidding.”
Scott squirmed slightly, making a choked noise as the bald man tightened his grip still further. He’d tilted his head back, desperately trying to get air, even as his eyelids fluttered; he was dangerously close to passing out, and if that happened, he’d probably die.
“Ash,” Zachariah murmured warningly. Now wasn’t the time to pick Ahm’s brain, not when Scott’s life literally hung in the balance.
Ashton must have caught the meaning behind his single syllable, because he said, “Let Scott go.”
“But if I let him go, I won’t have any leverage,” Ahm said. “And then what’s to stop you from trying to kill me? Not that you’d succeed, but it’s the principle of the matter.”
Zachariah huffed. “Like someone like you would give a damn about principle.”
Ahm cut a look in his direction. “You’d be surprised,” she said. “Now, about this dilemma we find ourselves in…what’s to stop me from killing everyone in here and taking what’s mine?”
“Don’t,” Ashton said emphatically, and at the same time, Riley added, “No one here is yours.”
“This one is,” Ahm said, jabbing at Scott again. “And so is that one.” She pointed at Zachariah.
“No one has to die,” Ashton said, his voice almost pleading. He moved to the end of the counter; Zachariah reached for him, intending to stop him, but he missed and watched as Ashton stepped out from behind the counter, his hands held up in a defensive posture. “No one else has to die,” he corrected, casting a despairing glance at Tate and Marie.
“Clearly, you have a proposal in mind,” Ahm commented. She looked Ashton over curiously and, much to Zachariah’s disgust, almost eagerly.
“Let them go,” Ashton said. “Let all three of them go. And take me instead.”
“What?” Zachariah exploded. His heart lurched in his chest, and he started toward Ashton. Ashton threw his arm out, motioning for him to stop, and he obeyed, eyes wide. “Ash, you can’t do this!” he hissed.
“Shut up, Zach,” Ashton ordered.
Ahm watched the exchange with interest. As soon as they’d quieted, she said, “What makes you think I’d want you? An Alpha werewolf is quite a prize.”
“Not when you already have one,” Ashton said. “And not when the one your buddy there is holding would be nothing but rebellious.”
Ahm chuckled. “This coming from one who defined himself with rebellion,” she commented.
Ashton ignored the comment and continued. “Besides, you seem to have a weird interest in me, and it seems I’m somehow valuable to you.”
“You might actually have that right,” Ahm commented. She looked him up and down then glanced back at Scott. “So let me make sure I have this correct. I let this one and those two go, and you will come with me willingly? You won’t try to put up a fight, won’t cause me trouble, will do everything I tell you to do?”
Ashton drew in a deep breath and nodded. “That’s right. One-time offer. Take it or leave it.”
“Ash,” Zachariah hissed again, but he ignored him.
Ahm stared at him as Scott started going limp in the bald man’s grasp. Then a slow smile spread across her face, and she said, “Deal. Mr. Chambers?” The bald man let go of Scott. He fell to the floor in a heap, curling up as he hacked and coughed, wheezing, struggling to drag breath into his lungs.
“Ash, no,” Zachariah said again, finally getting close enough to Ashton to grab his arm and pull. “You can’t.”
Ashton tore his eye from Ahm and looked at Zachariah, finally looked at him. The weight of sadness and worry on his face was undeniable. “I’m so sorry, Zach,” he said. “I have to.”
“No, you don’t,” Zachariah protested. “There’s another way. There has to be.”
“If there is, we don’t have time to find it,” Ashton murmured. He pressed a hand to Zachariah’s cheek, and Zachariah reflexively leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Ashton was giving him a sad smile, and he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. “You can’t go up against her. You’re not strong enough,” he whispered in his ear. “Don’t come after me.”
“Ash,” he started, but Ashton cut off anything else he might have said when he pressed his mouth to his in a quick, deeply unsatisfying kiss, unsatisfying if only because it felt like he was saying goodbye.
Then Ashton stepped away from him and went to that damnable woman. It took everything in Zachariah to not follow him; he stood there, fists clenched at his sides, glaring at Ahm with all the fury he felt coursing through him, trying his best to not allow the despair to show through the cracks in his anger. He watched as Ahm wrapped her arms around Ashton like he was her long-lost son, embracing him even as he stood there stiffly, his arms by his sides.
“Forty-eight hours,” Ahm announced once she’d released Ashton and steered him to her side. “I’ll give the rest of you forty-eight hours’ lead time before I allow anyone to come after you. Consider it a gift in appreciation of the bountiful blessing that you have so pleasantly delivered to me.” She put her arm through Ashton’s and turned, nodding to Brandon before threading between him and the bald guy, leading Ashton out the door.
Zachariah stayed rooted to the spot he stood in only by sheer force of his willpower, watching as Ahm took Ashton away from him and to parts unknown.
“Don’t come after me,” Ashton had said.
Zachariah didn’t know if he could honor that request.
Scott’s throat felt like it’d been enclosed in a vice, and in a way, he supposed it had, considering the sheer strength of the big man’s grip on his throat. As he lay on the floor, trying to wheeze through the swelling that he was positive had started to do its damnedest to interfere with his breathing, he was completely senseless to whatever was going on around him. There was talking and some vague impression of protest, but all he could focus on was the fact that he was naked on a very cold floor and the scent of blood and wolf was in his nose.
Then Riley was at his side, her warm hand pressed against his bicep, her hair hanging in his face as she leaned over him. “Jesus, Scott, please tell me you’re okay,” she said, practically petting his hair as she tried to roll him onto his back. He shifted, twisting his upper body to look at her, and the relief in her gold-colored eyes was palpable. His throat was starting to feel better, his breathing becoming easier, so he decided to try speaking.
“Hey,” he said, and his voice sounded like his vocal cords were lined with sandpaper. He grimaced but soldiered on, reaching to grasp Riley’s face gently in both of his hands. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m not hurt,” she replied. “I’m more worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I think. Help me sit up.” She did as he’d asked, bracing him with an arm behind his shoulders as he levered himself into a sitting position. The muscles in his body screamed in protest at the movement. “How is everybody?” he asked. “Someone’s hurt. I smell blood.”
“Marie and Tate got shot,” Riley said. “Zachariah is checking on them now.”
He couldn’t help noticing that a name was missing from her rapid report. “Ashton?” he questioned.
“He’s gone.”
Alarm rocked through him. “Dead?”
“No, taken,” Riley said, “by that bitch in red.”
“Ahm,” Scott corre
cted absently. His brain was already laser-locked onto the revelation that Ahm had taken Ashton. Why Ashton? What did she want with him? As far as Scott knew, there was nothing particularly special about Ashton; sure, he was in charge of The Unnaturals, and maybe Ahm wanted to get ahold of the knowledge base he’d gained over the years. Though even then, he couldn’t figure out what Ashton would know that Ahm didn’t. “Where did she take him?”
“We don’t know,” Zachariah said, approaching from somewhere behind Riley, a distressed look on his face. He looked at each of them in turn and added, “Tate and Marie are both dead. Clean shots. It was quick.”
“Son of a bitch,” Riley murmured under her breath.
“And Jax?” Scott asked.
“He’s dead, too,” Zachariah confirmed, shaking his head. “It looks like his neck was broken. That wouldn’t normally kill a werewolf unless he was internally decapitated.” He barely paused to let either of them process that before continuing. “We need to get you some clothes,” he told Scott. “And we need to get out of here in case someone heard those gunshots and called the cops. Won’t look good if they walk in and find a dead cop in here while we’re still here, either.” He started toward the door. “I’ll get you some of my clothes from the car. We’re about the same size.”
After he’d stepped out, Scott took Riley’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“You didn’t even like her,” she said, squeezing his hand in return.
“I said I didn’t trust her because I didn’t know her,” he corrected. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t like her. She was a friend of yours, and you don’t strike me as one who has bad taste in friends.”
Wicked Creatures Page 25