by Aliya DalRae
The woman sighed. “My powers have grown as well,” she said. “He’ll not escape me again.”
But Uli Fuhrmann was no longer paying attention to her. He only had eyes and ears for the males in the other room.
Chapter Thirty-Three
N ox flinched when the door opened. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to run into the bathroom and lock the door. Not that it would save him from the Primeval’s attentions. But that slim piece of wood seemed a reasonable choice, given that he doubted he’d be able to move quickly enough to escape another round with Magnus. And there would be another round.
He’d mostly healed from the previous night’s pounding, but his ribs still cried when he turned the wrong way and the empty eye socket mocked him each time he caught his reflection in the two-way mirror. He’d thought of fashioning a patch from one of the towels in the bathroom, but that would only anger the Primeval. No need to make things worse for himself.
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried when Maxx entered the room.
“Hello, Nox,” the feral said, then winced when he got a good look. “Damn. Someone’s been put through the wringer.” Maxx reached a hand toward the left side of Nox’s face, but Nox pulled away.
Maxx withdrew his hand and smirked. “Where’s the new eye?”
Nox looked toward the two-way mirror, wondered if Magnus was watching. “It seems I won’t be needing it any longer.”
Maxx laughed and strolled around the room, picking things up and putting them back.
“What do you want, Maxx?”
“Just stopped in to say goodbye.”
“Leaving so soon? Primeval’s had his fill of you, then?”
“Soon enough,” Maxx turned back to Nox, a faraway look in his eye. “Why couldn’t you have stayed with me, Nox? There was a time I loved you, you know? We would have been great together.”
Nox shook his head. “Yours was not the kind of love I sought.”
When Maxx reached for him again, Nox didn’t pull away. He laid his hand on Nox’s right cheek and stroked his jaw with his thumb. “Once it was.”
Nox took a step back and Maxx let his hand drop to his side. “Maybe at first I didn’t know any better,” Nox said. “But I learned, Maxx, and what you have to offer? That’s not a life I care to live.”
“They’re all gone, Nox,” he whispered. “All of them. I think I screwed up. I was so set on getting back at you, and all I did was destroy the ones who trusted me.”
“You did that years ago, Maxx. All this did was allow their bodies to join their souls.”
“I did love you.”
“You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
Maxx stepped back, widening the space between them as his face went blank. “I’ve come to warn you. Fuhrmann’s not going to stop. You may be safe, cozied away here with your protector, but someday, somehow, he will catch up to you, and your brother as well. This will not end until he’s had his revenge. Do yourself a favor. Stay where you are.
Maxx turned on his heel and headed for the door.
“Maxx,” Nox said, and the feral stopped, turned his head. “Tell Fuhrmann he may have brought me down, but Raven will not be so easy to defeat.”
Nox stared at the two-way, his words for the man he now knew stood on the other side of the glass. Thank you, Sasha.
The door opened, and Giles stood in the entryway, tapping a finger to his wrist to indicate time was up.
Maxx hesitated, then stepped back to Nox and pulled him into a tight hug.
“Don’t get on that plane,” he whispered into Nox’s ear, then walked out of the room.
Giles gave him an evil sneer, then slammed the door behind them.
Chapter Thirty-Four
M erlin sat in the Tech Room, one eye on the wall of monitors depicting various locations around Fallen Cross known as hot spots for feral activity, the other on his laptop. That’s where the German Primeval would appear, should he ever decide to join the damn Skype meeting.
His office door opened and Tas poked his head in. “Am I late?” he whispered.
“Not at all,” Merlin said. “I’m still waiting for Werner to log in.”
Tas pulled the extra chair up to the counter and sat, stretching his legs out before him. Merlin thought he looked even more tired than the last time he stopped by. The extra hours involved in running the Legion’s day to day were most definitely catching up with him.
“Hallo,” a voice sounded from the laptop followed by a tapping noise. “Can you hear me?” The German Primeval’s face appeared on the laptop screen, but he looked at everything except the camera. Some took to technology more easily than others.
“We hear you just fine, Primeval Werner. Thank you for taking time to meet with us.” Merlin glanced at Tas, then turned his attention back to the Primeval.
“I got your email, but I’m afraid I’m at a loss.”
“I understand this is difficult to wrap your mind around, Primeval. But the facts are indisputable. Primeval Magnus has been breaking laws set forth by you and the Primeval Consortium for decades. As mentioned in my report, he has just now lured several of our Legion members to his home in an effort to recapture a male he held captive for centuries. Our Warlord, Mason, has requested assistance from the Consortium in retrieving our Soldier as well as the slave Sasha, who is of another race. Both instances violate Primeval Law, but we are in no position, physically or legally, to move against one of you. We require a consensus from the eleven remaining Primeval, as well as boots on the ground to see our people safely home.”
Primeval Werner leaned back in his chair and half of his head disappeared, leaving only his jaw in view. He worked it left and right as he considered Merlin’s request. After a moment he leaned forward again, his face now taking up the entire screen as he spoke.
“I will have to confer with the others,” he said. “I’ll get back with you. Be sure your Warlord does nothing stupid before we can decide a course of action. That would be…inadvisable.”
“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord.”
“I’ll Scrape you back in two days’ time.”
“Er…Skype, my lord.”
“Eh?”
“Never mind. We look forward to hearing from you.” The screen went black as Merlin disconnected and sat back in his chair.
“That went about as well as could be expected,” Tas drawled, his Aussie accent thick with fatigue.
“When’s the last time you slept?” Merlin asked him.
Tas yawned. “Can’t remember. You?”
“About the same.”
Tas sat up and leaned forward, pulling Merlin’s eyes to his own. “Have you thought about what we talked about the last time I was here.”
Merlin leaned back and closed his eyes. A mistake, since by doing so he only managed to conjure the image of Martin standing over him in the hallway, pressing their lips together and whispering, “Don’t push me away.” His lids flew open and he sat back up, not surprised to find Tas staring at him in that all-knowing way of his.
“I’ve thought of little else,” Merlin answered honestly. “But that hasn’t helped with the dreams.”
“My offer still stands,” Tas said.
“And I thank you for that.” Merlin thought for a moment, then said, “Tas, do you think I should start patrolling, taking shifts like the others do?”
Tas leaned back, his face screwed up in confusion. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know. Something someone said to me, I suppose. Do you think I’d be more useful out there? You know what I can do.”
“What about the Shade?” Tas shifted forward, his fatigue fading into energized curiosity.
“I don’t know what to do about that. Obviously, I can’t let it get out, but I can fight.”
“Better than any of us, I’d say.”
“Exactly. It seems my talents are wasted locked away here in the e-department.”
>
“Your talents lie here as well, though. There isn’t a Warrior among us who can do what you do with those contraptions.” Tas waved his hand at all the monitors, keyboards and boxes with blinking lights.
“No one can do what I can do in the field either.”
“True, but out there you’d be exposed. One slip, bring on the Shade, and if you’re detected?”
“It would bring the Kurai Senshi down upon us all.”
Tas pointed at him. “That.”
Merlin sighed. “There has to be more to my life than hiding away in this tiny room, then going to my suite where I continue to hide in a larger, more luxurious room.”
Tas narrowed his eyes. “What’s brought this on?”
Merlin avoided eye contact as once again the feel of Martin’s lips burning his own sent his head spinning. “It’s nothing,” he said to Tas. “I suppose I just need a good day’s sleep.”
Tas stared at him for a bit, then said, “Sure. Well, as I said, the offer stands if you want help with that.” He stood and walked to the door.
“Have you ever been in love?” Merlin whispered.
Tas stopped and Merlin saw his hand tighten on the door knob. “Once,” he replied. “A very long time ago.”
“If that love had cost you everything, destroyed your world, would you chance that sort of thing again? Love, I mean?”
Tas hesitated before turning to face Merlin. When he looked up he didn’t bat an eye. “It did cost me everything,” he said, “and I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
R achel sat in the dining hall with the others, though none of her group seemed very interested in the meal set before them. The only one who ate heartily was Primeval Magnus, who had demanded they dine early. He sat at the head of the table, lips smacking as he gorged on shepherd’s pie, then helped himself to a healthy portion of custard-smothered spotted dick.
Once Merlin got back with Mason, the Warlord gathered Rachel and the others in his suite and laid the plan out to them. He informed them that, though help was coming, he didn’t have a precise time, so they must be ready to move quickly should they have to make a run for it. Rachel packed her bag the minute she returned to her suite.
That was five long days ago.
The Primeval sent Fuhrmann’s party, including Victoria, packing the previous night. Rebecca had chosen to stay with them, to return to the States when the time came. Rachel wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She’d grown rather attached to the children, considered them her own. The odds that Rebecca would want any part of raising them were slim and none, but there was always that chance she could change her mind. She didn’t know which was worse. The idea that her sister would want her children back, or the thought that they might prefer their real mother over Rachel.
A bite of pudding stuck in her throat, and as she took a long swallow of wine to push it down, the doors burst open with a loud bang. Rachel choked and sputtered, tried to clear her airway, to breathe again. By the time she managed it, all hell had broken loose.
What looked like an entire Legion of Soldiers and Warriors teemed in through the dining hall doors, all of them shouting and waving weapons in the air. Mason’s group placed their palms on the table in plain sight and let the European Legion do its job.
“What is the meaning of this?” Magnus bellowed. “You can’t barge in here like that! You have no right!”
A male stepped forward, so much like Mason he could only be this group’s Warlord. He cleared his throat and read from a piece of paper he pulled from a pocket in his leathers.
“Primeval Magnus. You stand accused of crimes against the race. By direction of the Primeval Consortium, you are hereby ordered to release all prisoners and/or slaves into the custody of the Fallen Cross Legion, United States. If you fail to comply, I have been instructed to seize said prisoners, including, but not limited to, Sasha Becker, Sorceress, and Nox, Twin of Raven, Vampire.”
A group of leather-clad Warriors surrounded Magnus as the Warlord continued.
“Furthermore, I have been instructed to bring you into custody, to appear before the Primeval Consortium immediately.”
“This is preposterous,” Magnus sputtered, crumbs of spotted dick spraying from his mouth and littering his fancy jacket. “I demand an enclave!”
Mason stood and faced the red-faced Primeval. “That is your right, my lord, but I will remind you as I have throughout the week. The Primeval Consortium did away with slavery within the race in 1856. Slavery of those outside the race, was abolished in 1902. I warned you, your actions would have consequences.”
“You son of a bitch! I’ll have you hung! I’ll leave you in the sun to incinerate and feed your ashes to the wind! I’ll…”
As the Primeval raved on, the curtain over the alcove fluttered. A British Soldier swung it aside and Sasha walked through, her white hair in a tangled braid, escaped wisps of it flying around her head. When she stumbled, one of the Soldiers caught her and guided her to a chair.
A moment later, two more Soldiers appeared at the curtain, Nox held between them.
“He’s in a bad way, sir,” one of them addressed the male with the papers.
Raven rushed to his brother’s side, but Rachel only managed to rise, unable to move beyond the spot where she stood other than to raise a hand to her mouth.
Nox was a mess.
His good eye had swollen shut, and the now-empty socket that had briefly held his shiny blue glass eye bled from the corners. His shirt was torn and soaked in blood, a scent that was all too familiar to her as she’d been there when he’d lost that eye.
Raven relieved one of the Soldiers of their burden and helped his brother to a chair. He sat with a pitiful groan, and Rachel shuddered at the sound. He was so…broken. How could this have happened in just a few short days?
Surprisingly, it was Rebecca who went to Mason and said, “He needs blood. Allow me to offer my vein.”
Rachel should have been impressed with her sister’s forethought and generosity, grateful even. However, that offer was just the thing required to get her feet moving. No way in hell would she let her slut of a sister anywhere near Nox. She hissed loudly, pushed herself through the throng of Soldiers, and body-checked her sister out of the way.
“I’ve got this,” she said, her fiery glare one that dared Rebecca to argue.
Never known for her great intelligence, Rebecca opened her mouth to do just that. Fortunately for her, Harrier was there to stop her from saying anything they’d all regret. Mason helped him redirect Rebecca’s attention and Rachel knelt at Nox’s side.
He groaned when she touched his leg. Her fingers came away wet, and she realized he was bleeding where her hand had rested. A quick once over amended that assessment. He was bleeding from—everywhere. She gently tugged the remnants of his shirt up and found huge puncture wounds dotting a field of bruised tissue. There wasn’t an inch of him spared.
She turned to the Primeval, who now stood between two Warriors, a satisfied smile pasted on his lips.
“You monster!” she spat. “Why? He’s done nothing to you!”
“He ran away,” Magnus shrugged. “He knew the punishment would be severe. The fault lies with him. Not to worry, though. He’s always healed by evening.”
Rachel screamed and lunged for the Primeval, prepared to scratch his pompous eyes out, but Harrier was there to hold her back. She shook herself free of him and glared at Magnus, her eyes sparking with emerald fire.
“I hope you roast in the sun,” she growled, then turned her attention back to Nox as the European Warlord read off more charges.
“Oh, gods, Nox. What has he done to you?”
Nox struggled to open his eye, to lift a tattered arm and stroke her hair. “Don’t cry,” he mumbled as she covered his hand with hers. “Used to it.”
Rachel gasped and pulled away, searching his face for some sign of a lie, of exaggeration at the very least. She found neither. “Oh, Nox
. This is what you endured for centuries?”
Nox lowered his head to lean against hers. “Since I was old enough to fight.”
“I can help if you like.” At the sound of that slight German accent, Rachel bristled.
“You! You helped him! You controlled Nox, so he couldn’t fight back, you filthy Sorceress whore!” She wanted to attack the woman, to leave her as bloodied and torn as Nox, but his hand on her arm stopped her.
“Not her fault,” he said. “He would have killed her if she hadn’t.”
Rachel continued to glare at the woman. “Then she should have died. You need to get out of my sight before I do something I’ll not be sorry for.”
Sasha backed away and Rachel returned her attention to Nox. “Are you strong enough to bite?”
He nodded as she offered her wrist, but he hesitated. “Never trust the pretty ones.”
Not sure if he referred to her or Sasha, Rachel stroked his hair. “You’re lucky I’m not pretty, then,” she said.
Nox stared at her wrist, raised a shaky finger and stroked it. “No,” he whispered, “you’re beautiful.” He grasped hold, lowered his head to her, and sank his fangs into the tender flesh just beneath her palm.
He moaned as the blood entered his system and Rachel struggled not to do the same. This was neither the time nor the place. Knowing that didn’t stop the twist in her belly that quickened with each mouthful of blood he pulled from her vein.
She leaned into him, rested a gentle arm around his battered shoulders and whispered into his ear. “When you’re feeling better, I’m making you mine.”
Nox said nothing, just continued to suckle at her wrist. But Rachel didn’t miss the distinctive bloody tear that slid through the grime on his face.
Chapter Thirty-Six
N ox stood in the center of his cell and examined every corner. He left so fast the first time, he’d not taken sufficient time to memorize the details of this place. The place he’d spent the better part of his life. The place he’d hoped never to see again.