Courtland snorted his approval, slapping his palm on the bar to catch Lachlan’s attention. “Damn right it is. Bartender, another fucking round!”
* * * *
Angus Sweeten? The Angus Sweeten, trafficker of paranormal youth and keeper of the sacred synthetic blood maker?
He hopped onto the back of the couch with the ease of a teenager, crossing his lean legs and winking. With a dismissive flap of his hand, he said, “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking is this that wanker SOB who bought and sold young vamps as if he were merely purchasing cattle at the local-yokel 4-H auction?”
Freya slid back on the couch, pulling Clarence along with her while Angus waited with glee in his eyes for her answer.
When she sat stoic and unblinking, he clucked his tongue. “To answer your unspoken question, you betcha! I’m your man. Well, not yours of course, but I could be, if you were so inclined,” he said, letting the sweep of his lashes touch his cheeks in a coy blink. “All you’d have to do is bat those big baby blues and I’d melt like chocolate in the hot Juuu-lie sun.”
Lifting her chin, Freya eyed him, fighting a shiver. There was no way for her to escape unless she was willing to risk some serious pain, but she clearly understood what Claire meant when she’d relayed her experience with this man.
This maggot enjoyed the chase, and she wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of one.
He smelled of odors so monstrous, so black and bitter, the scent of something acrid lingered in her nose. Yet, he pulled her into the depths of the despair he represented, demanded she see his soullessness, steeped in bile, drenched in hate.
Claire had fought him ’til the bitter end of their battle before he’d escaped, and she’d do the same if necessary. But not before she got some answers to her questions.
As a for instance, what did the likes of Angus Sweeten want with Liam? Did it have something to do with this rift between him and Irish?
She’d never believe Liam supported the kind of scum she’d heard Angus declared. He’d kidnapped Liam’s sister’s best friend, Sarah, thinking she was Hadley. He’d been prepared to sell Hadley to the highest human bidder.
Liam might have been booted from the club, but not a chance in the fiery depths of hell would he do business with someone like Angus.
Which meant this visit to Liam’s cabin held malice. Or did it? Did it have to do with Courtland and this bizarre friendship he and Liam had struck up? None of this sat well with her. None of it made any sense. Liam might be on the outs with Irish right now, but to willingly consort with the likes of Angus? Her gut told her no—not a chance in hell.
Is that your gut or your lady bits?
Rather than recoil from their close proximity, she leaned in, much the way she would when she was going for the throat of opposing counsel. She stroked Clarence’s head with a casual hand, hoping he’d bring that soothing affect dogs were supposed to have on their owners. She’d need it if she were going to pull this off.
“So what brings you to this neck of the woods…Angus, is it?” she asked sweetly, cocking her head as though she were hanging on his every word.
His thin eyebrow rose, his red eyes gleamed when he tipped an imaginary hat. “It is indeed, Angus. And let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about delicious, finger-lickin’-good you. What brings you to this neck of the woods?” His words, like the purr of a contented kitten, made her skin crawl.
“Me?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, I’m just passing through.”
Now Angus pursed his lips. “And to whom do you owe the fanfare?” He gestured to the circle of crosses and garlic with a knobby finger, swishing it around with flourish.
Freya bit her bottom lip in a flirtatious gesture, made her eyes smolder. “Sometimes I can be a very bad girl. So, so bad. I imagine you find that hard to believe, but it’s true. This is to protect the rest of the world from naughty me.”
He threw his demon head back and barked a laugh. “You’re intoxicating! I only wish I could stay longer so we could shoot the breeze. But…”
She made her eyes go wide. “But?”
“You do realize you’ve presented me with quite a problem, don’t you, my fair-haired queen?”
Freya made pouty lips and frowned. “Oh, dear. How could I, a silly girl, present you, a big strong man, with a problem?”
He scraped his nail along the underside of her chin and grinned a wicked grin. “Oh, Peaches, you’re mocking me. I love that about you already. You remind me of an encounter I had not so long ago with a feisty redhead.”
Now Freya cocked an eyebrow, tapping her index finger against her lower lip. “Really? But everyone knows blondes have more fun. So how about we get to that problem. I’m ever so curious to know what harmless ol’ me could possibly do to big, bad ol’ you.”
Angus sighed, long and as though he’d never run out of wind. “You’ve seen me, of course. I can’t be seen here, bandying about in the woods as though I’m not some outlaw. Because I am, you know. A dirty, dirty boy. Wanted globally for crimes against humanity. Unspeakable crimes. That, my blue-eyed girl, is our dilemma.”
This presented a problem. He was going to kill her merely for seeing his face? And it would undoubtedly hurt. She remembered what Claire told her about this monster. She would never forget it. She’d had nightmares on Claire’s behalf because of it.
But she was certainly going to try to find a way to thwart it.
Freya made a show of rolling her eyes as though his words left her completely unaffected while her fingers skimmed the surface of the sofa for her phone. “Well, I don’t have a problem with it if you don’t. I can turn a blind eye to almost anything. In my former life, I was a corporate attorney. We were blind often. Sometimes deaf. So go on and do whatever you came here to do. I’ll just watch Kitchen Crashers and mind my own P’s and Q’s. Carry on.”
Turning her attention back to the TV, she feigned indifference, gripping Clarence’s collar so tightly, she worried it would leave a mark around his neck. His bulky body was tense, the muscle beneath his skin rippling and rigid.
Clarence didn’t like Angus, and while he was well trained, she couldn’t say what he’d do if the demon attacked her.
A shift along the back of the sofa made her pause, but Freya refused to look away to see what he was doing.
Which was mistake number one.
Angus grabbed the ends of her hair so swiftly, with such force, it was a miracle he didn’t break her neck. Dragging her to him, he leaned down, his eyes wild, his smile a slash of maniacal, crimson glee. “Who are you, vampire, and why are you here?”
She fought the tremble in her voice, the fear racing through her limbs. But the hell she was going to let him see it. It took all her will, but she replied, cool and slow as though he were too stupid to understand. “I told you why I’m here. Why are you here, Angus?”
“Enough!” he screamed, twisting the hair around his hand harder, making Clarence bare his teeth, a low growl emitting from his throat.
His hold on her was so tight, the jolt so forceful, her teeth clattered together until she set her jaw and her will to remain calm.
Letting Clarence’s collar go, she held her hand up behind Angus’s back to instruct the dog to sit then relaxed into the demon’s grip. She smiled sweetly up at him, glowing innocence. “Ah. I see now. You like it rough. I’m not opposed. But isn’t there a rule against vampires and demons having a tumble? All that inter-species bullshit the new government imposed on us?” Walking her fingers up along his lanky arm, she batted her eyelashes. “But I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
Hauling her higher, Angus pulled her in close, their chests just touching, his heaving in anger, hers as still as a cadavers. He lifted an eyebrow and made a sad face. “Who are you, bewitching one? And why must you use your feminine wiles so expertly? You’re courting my regret and I haven’t even killed you yet.”
Freya moved her hands slowly over his arms and up along his shoulders unt
il they bracketed his face, steeling herself against his crimson eyes and death stench. “You know, all this talk of killing me begs the question…”
Angus licked his lips with a long pink tongue. “What question, my queen?”
Using her thumbs, she caressed his cheeks and grinned back. “How do you know I won’t kill you first?” she screamed, pressing her thumbs into the sockets of his eyes until she felt his flesh begin to tear, her thumbs sinking deeply.
Angus let go of her hair with a ear-splitting screech, grabbing onto her wrists and attempting to pull her thumbs from his eyes.
She hung on for dear life, digging her remaining fingers into the back of his head and gripping his hair to ensure her hold on him, realizing for the first time just how strong she was since she’d become a vampire.
Yet as Angus howled in agony, he still managed to wrench her so hard, they rolled and fell from the couch, crashing to the middle of the coffee table and splitting the wood.
The moment a bulb of garlic touched her back, followed by the searing sizzle of one of the many crosses singeing her upper arm, she howled in her own kind of agony.
Clarence began to snarl a vicious sound before he leapt at Angus, latching onto the demon’s arm, his teeth sinking into it before Freya could croak out the word, “No!”
Angus roared his displeasure, rearing up, her fingers still imbedded in his eyes, and launched Clarence across the room.
The slam of his body against the far wall, the crack of bones, made her scream out, “Clarence!”
And that was when Angus got her right where he wanted her.
Her hands instantly went to protect her body, to brush away the sting of the garlic and crosses now ablaze with the rage of rushing fire, but freeing Angus from her grip. She tried to rise, to get to Clarence, but the moment she rolled over, Angus grabbed her by the back of her hair.
He began to drag her, the air wheezing from his lungs, blood dripping from his eyes, pulling her over the scattered crosses and bulbs of garlic.
Her skin began to peel away from her body, ripping in small tears, making her cry out in horror and pain so severe, he might as well have set her on fire.
But she reached up over her head anyway, gritting her teeth, fighting the unbelievable agony of her scorching flesh singeing, trying desperately to latch back onto his wrists, tearing at them. “I’ll kill you!” she cried, hoarse and raw.
Angus’s laughter filled her ears, ugly, thick with phlegm and satanic pleasure, mocking her as he hauled her over the hard wood. “You are such a minx! A funny, funny minx!” he sing-songed.
As the screaming, electric ache raced along her body, various pieces of her skin peeling like an orange, she twisted, trying to get out of his grip—until she heard someone’s thunderous roar.
“Angus, you sonofabitch! I’ll see you in hell if you harm my mate!”
Chapter 13
Freya’s body now out of the circle of crosses and garlic, Angus hoisted her up with one hand like a fish on a hook to display her to Liam, swinging her back and forth in pendulum motion. “This is yours? Oh, my dirty, dirty vampire. I knew it! She’s lovely, Liam, but you know the rules. She has to die!”
She dangled only for a moment, helpless and achingly raw, before her eyes began to cloud over and Liam flew across the room with a howl of rage, an arc of black trench coat and ebony hair. He grabbed onto Angus and launched him high and wide like a discarded rag doll.
The dull thud of Angus’s body slamming into the cabin wall rang in her overly sensitive ears before she fell to the ground, boneless. Burning flames licked at her skin, easing a bit when Liam pulled her away from the scattered crosses and to his chest.
She winced when he ran a hand over her face, the slight touch of the calloused pads of his fingertips enough to make her bite her lip to keep from crying out.
He began to rock her, whispering soothing words, scooping her up and carrying her to the side of the room where Clarence lay, still on the floor. “Listen closely, honey. Relax your mind. Heal. Focus on healing. Think of your mind as one big Band-Aid.”
Freya chuckled, weak and listless. “A Band-Aid, Dr. McConnell? I think I need more than a Band-Aid. I think I need a plastic surgeon and some skin grafts.” She fought a shudder as a brief visual of her skin peeling away from her body flitted through her mind’s eye.
But Liam wasn’t laughing when she looked up at him from the crook of his arm. His eyes were full of worry, and a hint of trepidation.
He pressed a finger to her lips while he scooted up against the wall, pressing his back into it. “No. You can heal just as quickly as you can be hurt. Trust me. I need you to focus on mending the wounds. That’s all you need to do for now.”
As the sting began to ease, she let her limbs go slack until she remembered Clarence. Pushing against his chest, she whimpered at the movement but struggled to sit upright anyway. “Clarence? Oh my God. Please say he’s okay.”
Liam nodded, his jaw tight. “He’s got a pulse. I think he’s just unconscious. Please, honey, just relax. I’ll take care of Clarence.”
And then another thought hit her, making her try to wiggle her way upright against him again, this time in utter terror. “Angus?”
“Gone. In a puff of demonic smoke, the spineless bastard,” he growled.
“But I really put the hurt on him. I’m a little proud of that. I jammed my thumbs into his eyeballs just like I saw on some stupid talk show about self-defense.”
Liam chuckled, a low rumble against her ear. “I saw that, Tiger. Go, you. But demons self-heal just like us. Add in their magic capabilities, and they’re true foe.”
She had a million questions, one in particular about Liam’s relationship with Angus, but her body ached too much to ask. “Just want to make mention, not a fan of the skin being ripped from my bones. In case there’s ever a debate about how I want to die. I choose stake through the heart,” she joked.
Liam tightened his hold on her, stroking her hair, but he wasn’t laughing at her attempts to lighten the mood. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry he showed up here, Freya, and I know you’re going to want an explanation about why he was here. I know those wheels of yours are turning inside your big, big brain, but I need you to do one thing and one thing only. Heal. Talk is for later.”
Closing her eyes, Freya imagined her flesh knitting itself back together over her bones, soothing the stinging raw patches along her arms and torso.
Liam stroked her hair, threading his fingers through it, lulling her while she rested, making her feel safer and more protected than she had in a long time.
Clarence stirred beside them, a small whimper and groan before Liam slid her dog to his side, running his palm over his muscles, speaking soothing words.
She prided herself on her independence. She’d been single for a very, very long time. A couple of centuries, in fact, and in that time, she’d led various lives—all on her own once she’d hit adulthood.
But this—this having someone to lean on—having someone to turn to when you were overwhelmed, afraid—a warm, solid chest to rest your cheek against—it was exactly what Claire said it was.
Nice.
* * * *
Liam looked up from sweeping the mess of coffee table and crosses up off the floor when she reentered the room. Clarence lie beside the fire, seemingly no worse for the wear after Liam had tended to him, checking every square inch of his body while Freya stroked and soothed him.
She’d changed into her own clothes, discarding the crazy pajama pants and the questions she had about them. She’d shaken the entire time she’d spent looking through the bag Claire had packed, damning herself for feeling weak and terrified when up against Angus. He was the single most terrifying entity she’d ever encountered. And she hated how dirty he left her feeling—how hopeless and helpless.
Liam’s strong hands held the broomstick under his chin when he gave her a warm look of sympathy and asked, “Better?”
Oh, she was a
million times better. It was almost as if some lunatic looking for Liam had never attacked her with the intent to mutilate. But now that she was much better, she needed two things. Answers and more answers. In that order.
Nodding her head, she straightened the pillows on the couch and pointed to it. “Much. Now sit.”
Liam made a big deal of rolling his eyes and planting a hand on his lean hips. “Because you want to talk, right?”
She grinned. “Winner-winner chicken dinner.”
He grinned as he set the broom aside and fluffed a pillow. “I have some news I should share with you first though.”
Dropping down on the couch, Freya rolled up her sleeves. Ready for the next wave of horror. “News from Rock Cove?”
He took a place beside her on the couch, his expression grim. “Yep.”
“And let me guess. It’s bad. I’m deeper in the hole than I thought.”
Liam held up a finger. “Well, not deeper, but the hole definitely got bigger.”
Freya closed her eyes momentarily, bracing herself. When she opened them, she kept her gaze direct. “Just tell me.”
“Petra saw us leaving together the night Ethan was axed. Strolled right into Ahab’s, cornered me and Courtland, and told him she’s pretty sure you killed Dempsey because he heard you say you’d rather be a bloodsucker than mated to our boy Courtland.”
Fuck. More fear slid along her spine, crawling up her arms and making the back of her neck tingle. “I don’t remember saying that.”
His grin was crooked and adorable. “That’s because you had half a bottle of whiskey. You also don’t remember someone putting something in your drink.”
And then it came back to her—all at once. Claire had hushed her for saying it in front of all of Ahab’s. “Oh, God,” she moaned, tucking her arms around her waist and leaning forward to keep the rush of dizzy panic from assaulting her.
Outlaw Alpha Page 12