A whoosh at his side had him spinning around to block the next jabbing punch. A thin fist connected with his abdomen and Gunnar acted on instinct, ramming his head in an arc until he connected with solid bone. A loud crunch followed and then stumbling. The metallic stench of blood tinged the air, as well as a loud mewling.
“He broke my nose.” More whimpering. “Let me kill him.”
A disturbing silence followed, and Gunnar went on high alert, tapping into his preternatural side in order to heighten his senses. Hell, if they came at him with blades or guns, he’d be a goner for sure. He’d been hard-pressed to call to Mikhail for help early on because he’d wanted to see if the chance to mate his female still existed. Now, though, it might be his last lifeline.
“Don’t get so close, you dipshit. He’s no human.” Deeper, more accented and filled with malice, this voice sounded familiar. The caller from earlier!
Gunnar forced himself to concentrate, to use his enhanced senses to determine even more details. The more he knew the better chance he had of getting out alive. To save his female.
Be brave, kjaere. He forced the thought into the ether hoping she might hear his reminder. Even though he wanted to seek her through telepathy, fear kept him from attempting to connect more fully with Nadia.
Attuning his senses to the males flanking him, he braced his muscles and rounded his shoulders. “Hladhqnd!” Gunnar snapped his jaw shut and forced himself to swallow back any other Old Norse insults dancing on his tongue, but that one slid out before he’d managed to keep it locked behind his gritted teeth. Luckily, the chance of either of them understanding his slur calling them the Viking equivalent of a coward was slim to none.
“What the fuck are you saying, Nakani? Guess he’s only capable of gibberish now.” From this male’s tone of voice and lack of accent, Gunnar figured he was young and raised mostly in Los Angeles.
Gunnar couldn’t stop himself. He paced backward, feeling their body heat dissipate with each step. The more distance, the better. If he could position himself in a place of offense, tune out all distraction and focus, the odds were he could take down the weaker one with a foot to the chin. He’d worry about the other male, the meaner one, after the lil fucker hit the floor.
“Can’t take the pain?” the whiner mumbled, stalking closer.
Gunnar shook his head. “Nah, can’t take your stench.” Hell, every time he inhaled the damned cloth over his head near suffocated him. Speaking didn’t help, either. His head swam, lightheaded and dizzy.
A garbled rumble followed and footsteps came closer, the broken cement on the ground crunching with each of the attacker’s steps. Gunnar balanced, squaring his hips with feet flat on the ground and one knee bent. Head bowed forward listening, he waited for the male to get close enough.
“Maybe I bust your nose. Then, you can’t smell shit.”
Two steps closer. Gunnar forced himself to remain immobile, to look vulnerable. “Did it help you?” he taunted, just to get a rise out of the male. “Bet you couldn’t stand stinking like a pigsty. Can’t get the girls when you reek like a dumpster.”
“Shut the fuck up!” he screeched before closing the distance. His bony fist connected with Gunnar’s cheek and he let the impact drive him to the side before leaning fully on his left leg.
A scream split the air and a loud echo reverberated around the small area as Gunnar’s roundhouse kick caught the male unaware sending him flying to the far side of the space. He hit something hard and now lay there moaning.
Gunnar braced, prepared for another attack from the other male in the room. Footsteps brought that male near and he turned a bit to the side, protecting vital organs. “You want to play next?”
A chuckle followed. Gunnar tipped his head attempting to locate the male in the room. It was too quiet. Too empty. Damn it to hell, the asshole had veiled himself. Now, it would be harder to sense where he was or when he would attack.
He needed his fucking hands, at the very least, so he could defend himself from another assault. The thick rope binding his wrists burned as he pulled, twisted and attempted to find some weakness. Pivoting, he sought out a heat signal or any other tell that would give him some idea of the bastard’s approach. “Loser híbes of veiling are a sign of inbreeding.” He plucked a strand of twine with his nails ignoring the twinges of pain as it rubbed his fingertips raw. “Gotta suck being saddled with such a watered-down talent. I imagine it’s like being a eunuch. You don’t got the balls it takes to actually wield power.”
“I don’t need a violent híbe to torture you.” The vicious snarl came from his right. Gunnar whirled to keep his dominant side at the fore.
“Whatcha gonna do, now? Hot irons and sharp daggers?” He could take the pain. He’d been through shit like that way back in the early days of his transition. If he kept his wits about him, he’d survive.
Another piece of twine snapped. Keep working at it, he ordered himself.
“Good ideas.” The male snickered with malice.
“There’s always the rack. Maybe a little flogging.” If he kept the male talking, it would give him time to loosen the bonds around his wrists. Some instinct told him he’d need more than a stealthy kick to take this male out.
Gunnar worked another section loose. The slack parted his hands enough to get a bigger chunk and he wrapped his fingers around it, pulling.
“I prefer something more modern. More efficient.” The male toed a bit of rubble and it skittered across the floor and nicked Gunnar’s shin. He ignored the sting.
“Oh, yeah? You going to torture me with your poetry?” He yanked the rope again, pulling harder, needing it to tear apart, to release his wrists.
A snick and crackle was the only sound that followed. But it was enough for Gunnar to anticipate the male’s intention. He had to get free, right now, damn it!
Just as the probe touched the skin of his arm, Gunnar bore down with all his strength, wrenching the twine until it shredded. He staggered to the side, ramming in to the wall. The zing of white-hot arcs seared through his receptors and he curled his fingers into tight fists hauling his arms as far forward as possible. Bending his elbows, he fought the titanium digging into his muscles and got his hands close enough to push his palms together. Shivering with the exertion, he squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. He needed every ounce of his strength to win this fight.
The male clicked his tongue as he came closer. “Modern technology is handy, isn’t it? Not so bloody. But damned powerful.”
Gunnar let him continue his tirade. The male was completely spot on with that pronouncement. Electricity had been difficult to come by when he’d been a newly transitioned Kan Asma. He’d been physically powerful. There’d been no doubt about his prowess. Gunnar’s special talent had only manifested after an intense thunderstorm where lightning had touched the ground, splitting trees and sparking fires. It was then that he’d felt the draw to the sizzling currents. Instinct took over and he’d indulged. Many years later, he’d figured out how to harness the volatile source and use it to his benefit.
And now, well, that mean ass motherfucker had chosen the perfect way to torture Gunnar. Luckily, a bag over his head concealed the deadly smile on his mouth. One more zap of the Taser and he’d be lethal. He let the inner predator within his DNA loose. Fangs punched from his gums and his muscles infused with strength. Hold on, he ordered himself. Wait for it…wait for—
The prongs touched his side. Gunnar inhaled, lungs expanding, and held it.
“Now, you’re going to tell me why you’re really here. If not, I’m turning this bad boy up to the highest setting. And, that’s going to knock you on your ass. Before you can get up, I’m going to do it again. And, again. Until I know why you had Andros contact us.”
Gunnar couldn’t stop his laugh. The higher the setting on the weapon the better. “Maybe you should have two Tasers. Do maximum damage. Restart my heart or something.”
“Ah, this will do.” He pushed the meta
l nubs deeper. “Why’d the Komars send you?”
“What the fuck makes you think the Komars sent me?” Gunnar felt the electricity fading. He’d need to use it soon or endure another round of the Taser. “They want to mate Nadia in a Goblet Ceremony. None of them have balls enough to stand up to the Kartal to help me stop it. I’m shit out of luck. And, I won’t lose her. I’ll do anything to make her mine.”
“So you want to join our movement?” Skeptical and angry, the male sneered, jabbing the weapon against his ribs simply to inflict bruising pain.
“Depends. How much are your annual dues?”
The male got closer, only an inch separated them as he leaned in and snarled. “Just an initiation.”
“Damn, I forgot my checkbook.” Easy, keep him talking, Gunnar chided himself.
“Şefi’s got a nice, juicy kill all lined up for you. Once you do that. Maybe we help with that pretty little nurse.”
Gunnar wished he had a clear line of sight. He wanted to stare at this fucking piece of shit and show him the depth of hatred swirling deep within. And, he was tired of being blindfolded. Tired of being tied up. Just god damned exhausted. “Seems we’re at an impasse. I’m not doing any of your dirty work until my female is bound to me.”
A menacing laugh followed his declaration. Then, the click of the device. Scorching heat scalded his flesh, zooming in sweeping currents from his midsection all the way to his skull. His teeth rattled and his toes curled in his boots but he forced himself to concentrate, to draw each tangent of electricity from his nerves to the palm of his hands.
The male whistled and cackled with glee, ramming the weapon against him again as he discharged another bolt of intense voltage into Gunnar’s body. “I’m sure we can try other tactics to change your mind. Perhaps, we bring the nurse in here, try out some of this on her.”
Gunnar’s rage exploded. He rocked onto his heels and turned his body toward the male. With a roar, he pushed his hands forward and opened his palms. The ball of energy tore from his fingers with a loud pop leaving the flesh there numb.
But, he heard the male’s screaming and he wasted no time lunging close. Grabbing the male with rough hands, he dug his nails into bare skin, scoring the flesh until blood coated his fingers. Taking the advantage, he swung his leg until he felt the other male’s calf. He lashed his foot about the ankle and stomped down until the asshole lost balance and fell to the ground. Gunnar followed the motion, ramming his knee into the bastard’s spine and holding him in place. As the male twitched and sobbed, Gunnar wrenched the bag from his head.
Measly lighting stung his eyes and he blinked rapidly trying to get his bearings.
Applause from the far side had him whirling around and taking a defensive position.
“Why not kill him?” Kane stared, one eyebrow cocked and lips twitching at the corners.
Gunnar went entirely still. “Think it’s one of those thou-shalt-nots.”
Kane made a disgusted sound and sauntered from the corner, stopping next to Gunnar. He bent down and jabbed a finger into the male’s shoulder eliciting a deep moan. Burnt hair and piss now tainted the air. Gunnar stifled his gag reflex.
“He’s one of my best.” Kane straightened, tugging his shirt into place.
Gunnar scowled, glaring at Kane. He tried to arch his back, to find relief for the aching in his spine. “What game are you playing, Iskander?”
“I could ask you the same question.” Kane tilted his head and scrutinized Gunnar with a penetrating gaze. Gunnar quickly shored up his thoughts, anticipating a mental invasion.
“You’re the one who instigated this. I didn’t do anything to warrant being trussed up like a Christmas hog and attacked by your peons.” Gunnar rolled his shoulders. “Take this damned thing off me. If I wanted to bring down hell on you, I would’ve done it already.”
With a nasally sigh, Kane stepped over the fallen male and unlocked the restraint biting into Gunnar’s biceps. The metal dangled in Kane’s fingers before he folded it and tucked it into his back pocket.
Now free, Gunnar had to force himself not to lash out at Kane and destroy him then and there. He still needed to find out if they’d do the mating. He still had hope.
“I want Aleksi dead.”
Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest, narrowed his eyes and tucked his chin down. “Of course, you do.”
“You’re going to be the one to take him out.” Firm, emphatic and filled with glee, Kane licked his lips in a slow sweep.
With a laugh, Gunnar shook his head. “Not doing jack for you until Nadia is mine.”
“That’s being arranged.”
Triumph burst in Gunnar’s veins but he reeled it in, attempting to remain aloof, serious. “When?”
“Let’s just say you’ll be mated tonight…if the tests show compatibility.”
Something about Kane’s tone had Gunnar on edge. “What’s the catch?”
A wicked glint lit up the other male’s eyes. His nostrils flared and fang tips lowered, threatening and hostile. “You’ll see.”
Fuck, that didn’t sound good. Not one bit. And, fear curdled in his belly. A little voice deep inside his thoughts told him to be on guard. This wasn’t going to be as simple as he expected.
But, Nadia would be his.
He’d walk through fire to have her as his mate. He’d endure anything.
Losing her was not going to happen.
They were compatible. He knew it to the depths of his soul.
As he followed Kane from the chamber, he battled the fear coursing through his veins.
Whatever happened now as long as Nadia was bound to him forever, nothing else mattered.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nadia’s pulse throbbed in her temples and escalated with her rising terror. When the door swung open and the dark shadow crowded the threshold, she backpedaled and cowered in the far corner.
“Where’s Gunnar?” Her raw voice gave away her distress. Powerless, she didn’t even have her hands free to fight. The vulnerability staggered her. “Where is he?” A sob wracked her shoulders and she watched as a male moved into her line of sight.
“Don’t cry, pretty nurse.” He came closer and she glanced up into his familiar face.
“Andros?” For some absurd reason, she’d never considered he might be here, might be instrumental in this dreadful situation.
“I like you like this.” His voice lowered, predatory. “Dressed so pretty, so elegant.”
The touch of his finger on her cheek chilled her skin. She jerked to the side and recoiled. “Please, Andros. Don’t.”
He bit into his lower lip with the tips of his fangs. His breath feathered out as he tipped his head and stared at her. Long stringy hair fell free around his shoulders. For the first time since she’d met him, she saw the feral animal under the surface. As her patient, he’d been weak and fragile. Now, he’d filled out and grown stronger. A new wave of terror careened straight to her stomach twisting with a violent surge. She was tied up, held prisoner in a dark room, and completely at his mercy. If, he even had any mercy.
“Take me to Kane,” she pleaded, as silent tears coursed down her face.
With narrowed beady eyes latched on her, he laughed and the wicked cackle chilled her to her toes. “Şefi isn’t to be interrupted. He’s busy.”
Oh God, that’s where they had Gunnar. Her teeth rattled as horror gripped her in a tight fist and tightened her muscles. Shivering and nauseous, she curled in on herself shielding her face from Andros’s leering gaze.
His fingers tugged a chunk of her hair, pulling her head back. Evil intentions twisted his features into a demented mask. She yanked to the side. But his rough hands caught her before she moved far enough from his reach. Those strong hands lashed around her upper arms and hauled her into position before him.
“All those nights you came to my hospital room in those boxy scrubs, but look at you now. You were hiding that hot little body from me.” He inhaled through his nose,
long and nasally. “You still smell the same, like pretty flowers. I hated that you never noticed me there on the bed. That damn sentinel always interrupted, too.” Irritation crackled in his voice. He cleared his throat and caught her chin in one hand, dragging a thumb over her bottom lip with a hard pressure pushing the tender flesh against her teeth. “This mouth is a distraction. A male can imagine all sorts of things to do with it, especially, after all those long, lonely days strapped in a sterile room alone. It gave me good fantasies to find release. Maybe you can make those come true now and later I take you to şefi.”
She tried to shake her head, to open her mouth in protest, but his bruising hold prevented any movement. “Gunnar will kill you!” She forced into his mind with a scream.
He jerked with the mental invasion and fury sparked in his eyes. “That was rude.” Blistering pain scorched her cheek as his palm connected with her skin. Her head jerked to the side with the force of the blow. Fresh tears brimmed. She blinked furiously trying to keep them from spilling. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. She wouldn’t be weak as a kitten while he hurt her. Gritting her teeth, she raised her chin and dragged in a breath to calm her quaking nerves.
“It was true,” she spat with vicious anger. Though she was petrified, something else cropped up. The will to survive overrode everything else. If Andros thought he could stroll in here and violate her without a fight, he’d been wrong.
The room spun as he whirled her around and slammed her into the wall. A warm trickle on her forehead, followed by an aching sting, warned her skin had split. Bucking with her hips, she lurched to the side and let her legs go weak dropping all of her weight backward.
“Fucking stand up!” His hands tightened as he tried to bring her back up but she went completely boneless and sprawled on top of his feet. When he leaned over to try and get a better hold on her, she threw her weight to the side and rolled as far as she could. For one moment, as he loomed near, she thought she’d miscalculated the motion allowing him to drop over her in the most susceptible position. She pushed her heels into the floor and heaved. The cashmere sweater caught on something and ripped, but she ignored the damage and continued to propel herself away from Andros.
Mated in Treason Page 26