Dark Fates (A Paranormal Anthology)

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Maybe he’d come back and touch her again. Instead of abandoning her, however, he cupped her chin. She tried not to wince. Her face hurt all over again, and her right eyelid twitched in time with her heartbeat.

  “You need ice, and I want that looked at. What’s your name, little one?”

  Even as she wanted to surrender, survival instinct clamped her jaw shut. Maybe if she didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t kill her. Every minute she lived was a minute closer to the possibility of escape. But I don’t want to escape.

  “I’m Fox,” he told her as if following her thoughts’ crazy train. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She wanted to believe him. But she’d seen his face. She could describe him in detail. But I won’t. No way she’d turn him in, even if he was a killer. “Do you promise?”

  A smile deepened the creases at the corners of his mouth, and the tension around his almond-shaped eyes relaxed. “I don’t want to hurt you, I promise. Come on, tell me your name, little one.”

  No, she shouldn’t do it, but her mouth opened, and she said, “Jubilee.”

  “Jubilee.” He wrapped his lips around the syllables of her name, and she wanted to come from the caress of it. He was still naked, and she could, too. It wouldn’t take that long. He stroked his thumb against her lower lip. “Look at me, Jubilee.”

  And she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him. “You’re pretty,” she said. Heat scorched her face and made her wounded cheek hurt all the more, but she wanted the pain if it meant she could keep staring at him.

  Fox chuckled. She liked his name. “Thank you, Jubilee.”

  When he said her name again, another wave of lust crashed over her. Yes, she could be naked in seconds, but she didn’t dare pull away from his touch. Maybe when he let go of her chin, she’d get her too-hot jacket off. Her nipples went tight, and she licked her lips.

  “I want you to do exactly as I say, all right?”

  “Yes.” She caved immediately to her desire. “Anything. Can I touch you?”

  He frowned, and her world crashed. “Not yet. Stay here, close your eyes, and go to sleep. We’ll talk in a little while.”

  Sleep? She didn’t want to go to sleep. She wanted to touch him, and, if she couldn’t have that, maybe she should go back to her original plan, which involved running like hell. But her eyelids drooped even as her mind protested, and she rubbed her uninjured cheek against his hand.

  One moment she was upright, and the next she was curled on her side. Fox smiled at her, and her internal protests turned off.

  “Will you be here?” She didn’t want to miss a moment. Maybe he would lie down with her. If he did, she really didn’t want to miss that.

  Another frown tightened the lines between his eyes. “You’re a stubborn one, Jubilee.” There it was again, the liquid caress of her name on his lips. The sound made her feel as though his mouth was on hers, and the fire in her belly stoked even hotter. She shifted restlessly. Want burned like an ache from her sex to her breasts.

  “Go to sleep.” His voice firmed, and her eyes closed obediently.

  But I don’t want to. It didn’t seem to matter. Her body didn’t care what she thought. It wanted to do only what Fox said, everything he said, and she tumbled into the abyss drenched in the warmth of his scent.

  ****

  Fox studied the scrawny, slumbering woman and drew a finger along the bruise shadowing her cheek. The red mark and the surrounding puffiness angered him. He didn’t know which of the two men had inflicted the injury, but it gave him satisfaction to know they’d never touch her again. Her arousal perfumed the air despite the stench of death—and doubly so when she’d seized the alarm clock as a weapon.

  More fragile than the wing of a baby bird, and she’d fought him. That alone was enough to intrigue him, but her scent wrapped around him. She seemed so intent on soaking into his every breath. He yearned to pound his scent into her, but he didn’t fuck innocents. She looked young despite the dark eyeliner and punk clothes. Pulling his hand away, he glanced down at the dead men.

  Killing them wasn’t a problem. Hell, cleaning up the bodies wasn’t a problem. Jubilee…fuck, even her name was provocative. Jubilee was a problem. Raking his hand through his hair, he was considering his options when he heard movement in the corridor.

  Two men from the sound of their heavy footsteps. Harsh, angry breaths punctuated their words.

  “Where the fuck is she?”

  “I don’t know. Yuri said she was in sight, but he isn’t answering.” Right on cue, a buzzing noise hummed in the room.

  “He lost her.” The first man cursed again. “Have them go floor to floor and keep someone on the doors. I want that little cunt found. No one steals from me.”

  Fox’s claws slid out. He’d kill the first one that tried to touch her. The law didn’t specifically prohibit him from eliminating them. They were drug-dealing scum. Unfortunately, they were also human. Enoch, Kincaid, and Sage would need more convincing to accept the kills than the fact that Fox couldn’t stand them.

  Rolling his head from side to side, Fox alleviated some tension with the popping of each vertebra. Bodies first. Jubilee second. Hunt third. His claws retracted, but the need to spill blood wouldn’t quiet. He dragged his gaze off Jubilee. No, the woman, better still, the human. Yes. Human.

  Distance. He needed to distance himself from the hunger she had awakened in him. He didn’t get involved, and he didn’t need the complication of a woman he would most likely be ordered to kill. After locating his cell phone among the clothes he’d discarded upon arriving in the hotel room, he called the office.

  The direct line took him straight to maintenance. Just his luck, he got Aja on the other end.

  “You’re supposed to be off the clock for the next forty-eight hours.”

  He hated the she-cat. She lived for gossip and loved to sharpen her wicked little claws on him.

  “I need a clean-up crew.” He slowed his breathing and forced the unfamiliar protective anger down a notch. Impersonal orders beckoned fewer questions. “Send them to the Marriot. Twenty-third floor. Room 2313. Make it snappy.”

  “You’ve been on vacation all of two hours and you need a cleanup crew?” Her laughter raked over him. “Damn, you’re getting sloppy.”

  He heard Enoch’s voice murmur in the background.

  “Why does Fox need a cleanup crew?”

  Fuck me. The goddamn nephilim would never let him hear the end of it…and, right on cue, the fallen angel appeared in the room. Handsome to the point of painful, Enoch slid his hands into the pockets of his pants and swept his too-keen gaze over the room, taking in the packaged-up bodies, the pool of blood, and then pausing on the slumbering Jubilee. Ending the call, Fox moved between the angelic invader and the girl.

  “I have it handled,” he said. “You don’t need to be here.”

  “Really?” Enoch’s smile wasn’t a friendly thing. “You’re not usually this messy or naked.” He tilted his head to look around Fox. “And she’s overdressed for play.”

  “They were hunting her and decided to attack her in my room.” Fox shrugged. “I don’t like bullies.”

  “Hmm. Did she see you kill them?” Of course, he’d zero in on that point.

  He couldn’t lie directly. “She was hiding.”

  “She was hiding.” Skepticism rifled through Enoch’s dry tone. “That’s the best you can do?”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s here. I’ll take care of it.”

  Maybe she hadn’t noticed. She’d been in shock; that much had been clear. Who wouldn’t be traumatized? Her racing heart and the acidic odor of her fear had blanketed him the moment she’d pushed into his room. Already pale, she’d turned ashen when face to face with him, and, in her rush to escape, she’d jerked the door open.

  The two men had blocked her only avenue of escape, and one of them had a gun to her face. At that range, no one could miss. Fox hadn’t hesitated; he’d pulled her away and sent her across the
room with one hand and taken the gun with the other. A rake of his claws, and he’d sliced the man’s face and then his throat. The other had charged him, and it had taken him mere seconds to snap his neck. All told, less than a minute after Jubilee sought shelter with him, he’d dispatched her pursuers.

  A movement from the corner of his eye had drawn his attention. Jubilee had stared up at him with too-wide eyes and a ghostly pallor. He’d dropped the second man and walked around the bed to find her huddled against the wall. Terror and desire twined around her like the most provocative of perfumes, but it wasn’t blood lust that spurred him on.

  “Yes, she saw you,” Enoch said, and Fox took a step back as the nephilim released his mind.

  “I fucking hate when you do that.”

  Bad enough Enoch could be wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, but he didn’t have to dig around in Fox's brain for information.

  “Next time, don’t try to keep it from me. I can take care of the woman. You can get back to your vacation.”

  Shaking his head, Fox tried to clear the cobwebs of Enoch’s invasion and held up a hand. “I said I’ll take care of her.”

  Not a trace of compassion softened Enoch’s demeanor. “This isn’t a debate or a discussion, Fox. You know the law.”

  “If she knows what I am, yes, I do. But all she saw was me snapping that guy’s neck. Humans can do that.” Fox would be in the position to know. Maybe he didn’t need the complication, but that didn’t mean Jubilee had to die because she’d had the misfortune to stumble into his room.

  “You don’t have anything to feel guilty about. They would have killed her if they’d caught her and likely given her a far uglier death.” Enoch actually sounded bored. He walked over to the body of the first man. Yuri was what the men in the hall had called him. Blood seeped through the coverlet. “Why make her suffer?”

  “Like I said, I’ll handle it. We don’t know if she knows. If she doesn’t, we clean this up, let her think it’s just a bad trip, and send her on her way.” Taking advantage of Enoch’s distraction, Fox pulled his pants on. They weren’t clean, but he’d need to shower again anyway after all was said and done. Hell, half the reason he’d chosen this hotel for his “sojourn” had been for the shower. Pity he’d have to give up the reservation, at least until he was certain Jubilee could go home.

  He’d take her back to his apartment or, better, his estate. It was outside the city, and quiet. They could take their time there, and he…

  Pivoting, Fox glared at Enoch. “Would you get the hell out of my head?”

  Enoch leaned against the dresser and folded his arms. “You want to turn her.”

  No, he didn’t.

  “Yes, you do. Or fuck her. Or both. She’s a little scrawny by your usual standards.”

  Exhaling a long, steadying breath, Fox stuffed all his irritation into a little corner of his mind and shut it off. He hadn’t achieved his position by blowing up at the least little provocation. Enoch knew how to get in his digs.

  “Do you really care what I want?” Fox asked.

  Not that Fox had any fucking clue what he wanted, beyond the idea that Enoch wasn’t touching her. If that pitted him against the nephilim, then so be it. A soft laugh echoed through the room.

  “Fine, Fox. Take your plaything and enjoy her. You are still on leave. In forty-eight hours, you bring her to me to be turned or you kill her.” The world shifted sideways, and Fox found himself standing in the sitting room of his estate. His nostrils flared, and he turned. Jubilee slept on the divan, her dark grace out of place on the white fabric.

  Remember, I’ll know if you lie. Enoch’s warning whispered through his mind. Don’t disappoint me, old friend.

  And then the nephilim’s presence vanished. Dropping his chin to his chest, Fox scowled. Forty-eight hours might be long enough to work off the unfamiliar need. Bending down, he scooped up Jubilee. Her weight was so slight he barely noticed it.

  First things first. He wanted another shower, and she needed to be watched. They could accomplish both in his bedroom…among other things.

  Chapter Two

  The frigid shower did little to cool the unreasonable desire brewing in Fox’s system. He’d propped the bathroom door open so he could keep an eye on his guest.

  Prisoner.

  It didn’t matter if he dressed it up in a prettier term. She was a prisoner, and she would remain one until he determined what she knew.

  Sure. Keep telling yourself that.

  He didn’t allow himself more than five minutes under the icy jets, long enough to wash off the stench of death. The rasp of the towel added a fresh wave of needles to prick him. What the hell was he going to do with her? Why did he want to take her in the first place? Enoch would have eliminated the threat without losing a wink of sleep. But, no, Fox insisted that she come with him.

  Because I’m getting soft in my old age. Age. It was a useless concept to his kind, and it had nothing to do with taking these two days off. He didn’t celebrate the day of his human birth. What was the point? After dragging on a pair of pants, he walked over to the bed and stared down at her. The bruise on her face had darkened, and he still hadn’t had it looked at.

  Mentally kicking himself, he picked up his phone and dialed the office. Again. Bypassing maintenance, he selected an extension for the infirmary.

  “So you really took a human from Enoch? What is the matter with you?” The distinct feminine laughter underscoring the words was so very Cara. A relatively young Watcher by their standards and a dove shifter, she endeared herself to everyone with her upbeat moods.

  “It could be senility,” Fox commented as he traced a finger down Jubilee’s uninjured cheek. She had the softest skin. “Or maybe I’m just bored.”

  “Uh huh. So, what can I do for you, tall-dark-and-angsty? Need a last will and testament drawn up?”

  “You’re funny.” He wasn’t amused, but, if he didn’t add a rejoinder to the banter, he would send up a red flag. Not that he hadn't already sent up fireworks by taking Jubilee from Enoch.

  “I try.” A smile purred in her words. “All right, seriously, what do you need?”

  “Human female. Slender build. Approximately 165 centimeters in height. Eight, maybe nine, stone for weight.” Too slender by far, and her skin stretched tautly over her bone structure. He shifted the jacket to the side to get a good look at her shoulder. It had a mottled appearance. “Injuries include a bruise to her cheekbone, significant redness, swollen and puffy to the touch.” He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, then worked her out of the jacket and swore. “Her right shoulder looks dislocated, black and blue striping.”

  And burns. Burns littered the skin along her clavicle to her neck. As though someone had been torturing her.

  But why there? There were far more efficient places to inflict excruciating pain without damaging her beautiful skin. Tossing the jacket off to the side, he stripped off the rest of her clothes. How many other injuries was she hiding?

  “Is that it?”

  “Scars on her forearms, relatively new.” And perfectly vertical along the veins but not quite right in their placement. He studied one and then the other. Miming a movement with two fingers, he followed the scars. They weren’t self-inflicted.

  The Andropov person hunting her would die quite slowly. Perhaps while looking at his entrails. Fox could keep him alive for a long time and simply remove one piece after another.

  “Old scars.” He kept their location to himself. The girl’s breasts were small but gently curved. Her ribs stuck out too sharply. She’d been starved in addition to the other signs of physical mutilation. “Old bruises along her legs.” His gaze zeroed in on her thighs. They were unblemished.

  He found another scar on the sole of her right foot and nearly dropped the phone.

  “Yo, Fox? Is that it?”

  “Yes,” he lied automatically as he stared at the geometric letter branded on Jubilee's foot. It was from the angelic alphabet. None o
f the nephilim marked humans in this fashion. He straightened and bared his teeth. Someone had chosen her, but then they hadn’t done anything with her. They’d left her to fend for herself. The question was who?

  Cara was still talking, and her voice punched through the cold rage brewing in his gut. “Can you set the shoulder?”

  Naked, she didn’t look so innocent or young—too underfed and bony, but the promise of curves was there. Thumbing away some of the smudged makeup under one of her eyes, he gave in to the hunger to see what the cosmetics hid from him.

  “Fox?” Cara elongated his name, and he remembered she was still waiting for his answer.

  “Yes, I can set the shoulder. But she’s human. Won’t she need something for it after I put it back into place?” He put the phone on speaker and set it on the nightstand. Might as well get the ugly part of it over. Bracing her shoulder with one hand, he grasped her wrist and tugged.

  It popped back into place with an audible thwock, and Cara screeched. “What are you doing?”

  “I set it.” A quick glance at Jubilee’s face revealed a twisted grimace. She was still asleep, thankfully, but she was also in pain. Fox scowled. “What kind of pain meds do humans take?”

  “Um, I don’t know?” Cara sounded uncertain.

  He’d called the infirmary for a reason. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I mean I don’t treat humans as a general rule.” She sounded exasperated. Clicking noises filled the background. “Check her temperature, watch for signs of shock. Is her cheekbone broken?”

  With two fingers, he explored the bruised area. “It doesn’t feel broken.”

  “How’s her scent? You should be able to scent bleeding even if it’s under the skin.”

  Irked that Cara had to remind him, Fox knelt down and pressed his nose to Jubilee’s cheek. The sweet feminine scent wrapped around him and drew him closer. His cock went stiff, and lust crashed through his good sense. Dark, sweet, and decadent thoughts produced images of her sprawled beneath him, her legs wrapped around his hips while he thrust balls-deep into the velvet embrace of her pussy. The tart hints of her arousal clung to him, beckoning him, and it took a physical effort to shove away from her before he joined her on the bed and did his damnedest to wake her up.