Bellis: Skin Walkers
Page 2
Tall, dark and pissy jerked his head and the light above her went out making the room solid dark. Footsteps echoed in the empty room as the Walkers exited. When the heavy door closed behind them with a clang of finality, she barely kept from wincing. Alone, a shiver coursed through her, both from fear and cold. She hadn’t realized how much heat that little light bulb had given off until it was snuffed out. Now, an iciness born of fear settled into her chest as she hunched her shoulders against the frigid temperature of the room. She hated cold. It reminded her of so many nights spent in the hell that was the Megalya hive. She wouldn’t break though, not from this. Hell, she doubted Skin Walkers had what it’d take to break her. No, she’d spent too much time among real monsters to be afraid of these shifters who clearly had such a firm moral conscience that they hadn’t killed her already. It was a bad move on their part. Odium and the other Megalya would come for her. Odium needed her to keep his monsters in line and the Megalya scientists needed her for their upcoming experiment. Even those in charge needed her, because she was the only person who had any semblance of control over Odium. They’d come. They had to…right?
***
Bellis watched Sam from a darkened corner of the interrogation room. Believing she was alone, she let her guard down, and her turmoil wafted through the air along with something else. She was uncomfortable, cold. Her slight frame shook and her full lips were losing their pink hue. That was their plan. Make her as uncomfortable as possible, while giving her mind time to think up the worst case scenario. It should be easy to break her then. Offer her warmth, food, safety, and she’d give them what they wanted. Right?
One of her knees started to bounce as she tried to get warmth circulating through her body. He didn’t like that she was cold. He didn’t believe in playing with prey before killing it, but Monroe did, and this woman had no idea the hell she was in for.
Motionless in the corner, Bellis watched Sam for at least an hour. She’d peered into the darkness, scanning the room, but he knew she couldn’t see him. He also knew she felt like she was being watched. Finally, her bouncing knee stilled and her shivering lessened. He noted her lips had turned a light shade of blue, and he wasn’t surprised when Sam’s head fell forward as nervous sleep claimed her.
Bellis couldn’t keep his nostrils from flaring every few minutes. There was something different about her scent, and he wondered if it was her Megalya connection. He’d scented them in battle though, and the faint fragrance wafting from her wasn’t them. No, it was soft and decidedly feminine.
Arms crossed, Bellis tensed a moment as a secret panel in the wall opened. With his heightened Skin Walker senses, his eyes narrowed on King and Bishop as they slid into the room.
Showtime!
***
A warm draft brought Sam alert, but she kept her eyes closed, no hint of change in her façade. She hadn’t survived all these years by making such foolish mistakes. Mistakes like the one she’d made at the Megalya compound in the old mining town.
Disgusted by her brother’s actions, she’d slipped from the compound to gather her thoughts, to wash the blood from her hands. Her brother had assumed the Skin Walker blood was the result of kills she had made at StoneCrow. She’d been preoccupied, and sensed an approach too late. An animal that she assumed was a Skin Walker was right on top of her. She couldn’t have run if she’d wanted. She’d threatened the Walker, only to realize too late the beast wasn’t a Skin Walker at all. But the huge cat wasn’t the true threat. Something, some…shadow came out of nowhere and swallowed her whole.
It’d been the Skin Walker she’d woken to in her cell, but this Walker was like none she’d ever known. Demon black, lightning fast, and mountain strong, he’d been Godlike. She’d had no chance.
“No sudden movements, Sam.”
She didn’t recognize the voice behind the caustically issued order.
She snorted, slowly blinking her eyes open, realizing she hadn’t fooled whoever was now standing before her. How did he get in? Clearly, he hadn’t come in through the door, because there was no beeping when it unlocked or the loud clang of disengaging locks from earlier.
Playing it cool she slowly lifted her head. “I’m handcuffed to a fucking chair, Skin Walker. I’m pretty sure you’re giving me credit I don’t deserve.”
The light over her head blinked on and there he was. The Walker had striking green eyes. She could just make out the grim set of his lips through his full beard and moustache. She recognized him as Dominant Skin Walker Monroe StoneCrow’s Second, King Mulholland. He towered over her in all his terrifying glory. Those dark green eyes locked on hers as he shoved off the wall and stalked over to stand before her, crossing his arms over his thick chest. He was clad in black BDU’s, just like most Sentries she’d encountered at the Estate.
“Ms. Michaels, I wasn’t concerned with your actions.” He jerked his head toward a darkened corner. “Bellis has a temper like a hand grenade. You never know what’ll set him off.”
She slid her gaze to the corner of the room but saw nothing. Not even those intimidating pinpoints of neon-blue in the demon Walker’s eyes. She knew it was him, and now she was wondering if he—the Demon Walker—had been in the room with her this whole time. Shrugging, she pulled her gaze back to King as she clapped her knees together repeatedly in a show of nonchalance that was actually intended to get her blood flowing. She’d been knocked out earlier and still felt groggy. The cold hadn’t helped.
“Now I’m certain you aren’t giving me enough credit.” She looked around the darkened room as if bored.
“I can smell your intentions.”
Her gaze cut to the darkened corner of the room and she tensed to hide the shiver that coursed through her. The Demon Walker’s voice was deep and sent chills blasting down her arms. He stepped forward with his declaration, and damn, he was scary. He was dark, death dark. All black hair, black skin, and black eyes with those creepy pinpoints of neon-blue in the middle. He was tall, taller than any male she’d ever encountered, and he was so damn muscled that it looked painful to his tight skin. He moved like oil, his long hair swaying eerily with each step, his movements predatory. When he spoke, his voice was deep and sonorous, unlike anything she’d ever heard. It was lethal, and it suited him. Having his attention on her was disconcerting. Worse, his words were startling.
Sam’s knees stilled as she forced bravado. “Watch it!” she warned with a dark grin.
The Demon Walker’s hands balled into tight fists.
“Ms. Michaels, I’d like to get some answers from you before you incite Bellis to end you.”
Sam rolled her head back, letting her eyes slide from Bellis to King. “You know better than that. I’ve got nothing for you.”
“Shame,” King tsked. “Because I’ve got something for you.” He looked at Bellis and Sam chuffed a laugh at the implication.
“You think I fear him?” she asked. “I’m not sure you’re paying attention. You do know who I am, right? Stop wasting my time and bring me your Dominant, then I might talk.”
“Yes, Sam.” King grinned now, but it was sinister. “I’m well aware of who you are. You’re Megalya. Perhaps it’s you who isn’t paying attention. My Dominant is someone whose people have suffered. He’s a man whose family was attacked.” He bent and planted his hands on his knees, placing his face inches from hers. “He’s a Dominant whose Domina was injured in your attack. All unforgivable sins, Ms. Michaels. All sins for which someone will pay.” He straightened to his full height. “You need to decide if that someone is you.”
When she didn’t respond, King barked, “Well?”
“Well, you forgot to tell me your offer. You know, you promise me riches or safety or something else you think I want or need in exchange for the information you think I’m withholding.”
“Your life,” was his simple reply. “You talk, you live. Period.”
“Wrong.” She tilted her head and sighed as if bored. “I talk and I die. Period.”
Bellis watched as Sam’s cheeks flushed and she lowered her chin to glare up at King. “I told you to quit wasting my fucking time, Walker, and tell me what you want!”
King stopped pacing and shot Sam a glare of his own. “We want the hive.”
Sam snorted a disgusted sound. “The hive,” she muttered, looking at the wall before dragging her gaze back to King. “You don’t want the hive! The hive is the fucking fist. You couldn’t handle the hive. You need the head, or at the very least the fucking heart.”
“Are you telling me there are three separate factions at work in the Megalya hierarchy?”
Sam’s lips thinned before they finally parted and she offered, “You’ve got Sentries. You think the Megalya are coming after them or you? You think you and your Sentries make two different factions here at StoneCrow?”
King canted his head. “What makes you think you’re at StoneCrow?”
“I’m a Skin Walker enemy whose been taken hostage. Where else would I be?”
“Interesting you should bring that up. I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet.” King glanced toward the door. “We’ll get you fed and then we’ll get down to business. In the meantime, Sam, I highly suggest you think about how it is you think this is going to play out if you refuse to cooperate. The worst-case scenario that you’ve thought up? Well, let’s just say that is playtime compared to what I’ve got in store for you should you refuse to cooperate. Playtime, Sam.”
Sam watched King and the other man leave as fear tore through her. She refused to allow her terror to show on her face. Blanking her expression, she swallowed down her emotions even as acid began to roil in her belly. King didn’t understand. None of them did. If she talked, and the Megalya found out, she was certain the Skin Walker’s punishment would feel like a vacation compared to what Odium would do to her. She needed to speak to Monroe. Where the fuck is he?
Her eyes tracked to the corner where she could just make out the silhouette of the Demon Walker. “Got any coffee?”
She didn’t expect him to give her coffee. Hell, she didn’t honestly even expect him to reply, but she had to know. Finding a weakness in people was like fishing. You threw out a line and you’d wait for a bite. If the demon Walker felt inclined to find her a coffee, then it showed there was the merest hint of concern for her wellbeing, which meant there was a crack that she could begin to work to pry apart.
Bellis didn’t answer though, didn’t even blink, and goddamn that sucked, because right now Sam would literally murder for a fucking Starbucks. Dejected, she let her shoulders slump and her head fall forward. Stupid semblance of freedom that she’d gleaned over the past few years. Odium gave her more and more leeway, more and more rope, and she’d ventured further out into the world. Cigarettes and coffee had become her addiction. Honestly, there were days when she’d survived on those two things, and right now her need for nicotine or caffeine was pounding through her and making her head hurt.
“If you were smart, you’d give him what he’s after.”
Sam lifted her head to gaze at Bellis. “If you were smart you’d stop talking.”
The demon Walker’s eerie eyes flashed that bright neon-blue, and she smirked. So, he has a tell. “Hey, Demon, be a good Sentry and go fetch me a key to these cuffs.”
His eyes flashed again, and this time his lips peeled back until he was flashing wickedly long incisors at her.
She chuckled, but felt anything but amused. Nicotine withdrawal was making her skin crawl and her scalp itch. She blinked and huffed a breath before offering, “I’ll give you a blow job for a cigarette and large black coffee.”
The expression on Bellis’ face was priceless, and a genuine smile claimed her lips as his sneer faltered and his face blanked a moment. Then his frown came back even darker than it’d been before. Just to fuck with him she sighed dramatically. “Sorry. Didn’t know you liked boys.”
And there it was again, that telling explosion of bright blue in the center of all that black. Sam smirked and then in an instant something in Bellis’ expression changed. While she watched him watching her she saw the moment he realized what she was doing. She thought he’d be mad. She thought he’d react with a punch to her face, or at least a slap. Instead, Bellis straightened to his full intimidating height and flared his nostrils.
“Your fear belies the games you play, woman.”
“I’m not afraid.” It was a lie. She was scared as shit, but he’d never know.
He squatted down on his haunches. “And now you’re lying.”
“I don’t lie, Demon Walker. Don’t need to.”
“You’ll be able to fool many, but I’m not one.”
She opened her mouth to offer some snarky comeback, but Bellis shoved up off his knees and left the interrogation room with her still handcuffed to the chair in the middle of the cold, lonely space.
Chapter 4
Bellis was fighting the urge to hunt down a cigarette and a large black coffee. To his surprise, it wasn’t because of Sam’s offer of a blow job. No, something inside of him was baying at him to comfort her. That something would be ignored, because assassins didn’t deliver coffee or hunt down smokes, blow job or not. Still, it bothered him that no one was paying enough attention to her. Remy, King, Bishop. Hell, even Bodi had spent limited time with her. They didn’t scent the turmoil that faintly wafted from her. She was afraid and apprehensive, both scents you’d expect from a captive, but there was something else there, something that grew stronger the longer he spent with her. He wasn’t sure if it was heightening in her, or if he was just able to smell it more strongly because he’d spent time with her and was able to differentiate between her emotions. Ignoring the need to figure out the puzzle that was Sam Michaels, Bellis carried in a tray holding a tall glass of milk and a bowl of still-steaming stew.
King had made his threat and left, commanding Bellis retrieve a mat for “Ms. Michaels”. Apparently, her new cell would be the interrogation room, which was odd. The room had a hidden door, and for as worried as everyone was about little Ms. Michaels, it seemed an unwise decision.
Sitting on her mat, her ankle manacled and chained to the wall behind her, Sam eyed the tray Bellis placed on the floor in front of her before sliding her eyes to him, eyebrows raised in a ‘are you kidding’ expression.
Looking at the tray, Bellis snorted. “Food’s safe.” He planted his hands on his hips.
When Sam made no move for the tray, he rolled his eyes and squatted, reaching for the glass of milk and taking a drink before setting the glass back on the tray and lifting a bite of the stew to his lips and swallowing it down.
“Walkers are immune to illness. Everyone knows that.”
“We’re not immune to poison,” Bellis countered. “I’m assuming that’s what you’re worried about.”
She was, but wouldn’t admit it to him. Crawling from the mat she snatched the glass of milk off the tray and took a small sip, muttering, “I imagine if Monroe wanted me dead, dead is what I’d be.”
Bellis nodded. “Smart girl.”
Sam’s lips peeled back as she hissed, “Dumb boy.” Lifting the glass she drained it in several swallows while Bellis watched. Setting the empty glass down, she swiped the back of her arm across her lips before looking at him. “Girls are young, naïve, and full of promise.” The next words she pushed out in a sing-song tone, “Don’t get it twisted, dumb boy. It’ll huuuurt.”
“You can’t actually think I’m afraid of you.”
Sam grabbed the bowl of stew and blew on it before lifting a spoonful to her lips where it faltered long enough for her to say, “You fucking should be.”
Bellis studied her silently as she ate. Everyone was so worried, so overcautious ov
er this tiny, foul-mouthed female who was clearly hiding behind bullshit and bravado. “That shit actually work with other people?”
Sam stilled with another spoonful of stew halfway to her lips. Flicking a glance up, she shot Bellis a dark look. “People?” She lowered the spoon back to the bowl. “There are no other people. It’s me, Megalya, and Skin Walkers. That’s it. I’m the only people I know.”
Interesting. So, she lived among monsters and beasts, and now believed herself to be one. “You’re hiding,” he challenged calmly.
“Hiding?” She gave him a bored look, then dropped the spoon onto the floor with a clatter before grabbing the bowl with both hands and lifting it to her lips and draining it. When she lowered the bowl, her cheeks were puffed out from too much stew. She chewed while glaring at Bellis. Finally, she swallowed and licked her lips. “This ain’t hiding, Demon. This is captivity. This is the opposite of hiding.”
He bristled when she called him Demon. He didn’t like being called that. “I didn’t mean from just the world, Princess.” He grinned when her brows punched down at the nickname. “I mostly meant from yourself. You’re trying to be this thing you aren’t. You’re hiding behind this character you’ve created.”
“You don’t know me, Demon, don’t pretend you do.”
“No, but I know my nose, my eyes. I scent things you think you keep hidden. If you want to survive this, you need to give Monroe what he wants.”
“What he wants is disloyalty, and then where does that put me? You think he could ever trust me if he thought that I’d turn on my own so quickly, so easily?”
Bellis shrugged. “Chance you gotta take.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Get what?” Bellis questioned.
“That loyalty is a fucking language, and not everyone speaks it. It can be taught, but only a select few who are eager enough will ever learn it. If it hasn’t been instilled from birth, the likelihood of retention is minimal.”