by Kate Baxter
She’d better be. Otherwise, all hell would break loose.
The demon Ewan was intended to fight waited for him in the arena. He was a big bastard, at least a foot taller than Ewan with cords of thick muscle, sharklike teeth, and skin Ewan knew to be thick and leathery, like built-in body armor. Even if he weren’t throwing the fight, the demon would be difficult to kill. In addition to his physical attributes, the demon could use hellfire as a weapon. Ewan suppressed a shudder. He could go a lifetime without being burned by that shit again.
You’re in luck, asshole. You’re dying tonight. You won’t have to worry about it.
As he continued to make his way to the arena, Ewan received pats on the back and words of encouragement from those eager to see the demon fall. He was a sure thing, the famed berserker warlord who dared to take a vampire for a lover. Unapologetic. Violent. Invincible. So many of these poor bastards were going to lose the shirts off their backs tonight.
The battle master gave Ewan a solemn bow as he stepped into the arena. His senses were awash with Sasha, close to the point of distraction. So much so, that Ewan wondered if he’d have to throw the fight at all. It maddened him to know she was so close and yet still out of his reach.
“Choose your weapons!”
The crowd erupted into shouts and cheers. The battle master held the case of weapons aloft for the competitors to choose from. The half-circle dome of silver webbing closed in around them and Ewan couldn’t help but wonder, did silver even bother demons? Ewan’s blood pumped in his veins with every quick thump of his heart. He scanned the crowd for any sign of Drew, already knowing Sasha wasn’t among the crowd of onlookers. At least, not yet. If this were any other fight, he’d be coaching himself to focus and not allow for outside distractions. But what did it matter? He was going to die either way. Focusing on the fight was his priority. If he was about to meet his end, Ewan wanted his mind to be one hundred percent full of Sasha.
Ewan shook his head. Everyone present knew he wouldn’t take a weapon. The battle master presented the case to the demon and he, too, declined, sending the crowd into a frenzy. So, no blade with which to behead him? Apparently the demons’ plans had changed and it was to be hand-to-hand combat to the death. What a way to go out in a blaze of glory. The demons certainly had their dramatic show planned to the last detail. Tonight’s fight would become the stuff of legends. As in all legends, there would be a villain. Unfortunately, Ewan would be the one to fill that role.
His opponent attacked without warning. Ewan took a fist to the gut that might as well have been the branch of a redwood. He stumbled backward several feet and landed flat on his ass. Not a great start. Rather than the usual excited cheers, the building echoed with boos and cries of dissent. Yup, a lot of sorry bastards were going to lose some money tonight.
The demon was fast, but Ewan was faster. He propelled himself up to his feet, pulled back his arm, and threw the heel of his palm into his opponent’s solar plexus. The demon folded, bending at the waist as he gasped and fought for breath. Ewan capitalized on the demon’s distress, and delivered a roundhouse kick to the bastard’s head. He might be letting the demon win tonight, but he was damn well going to make sure the male earned it.
Ewan was going down, but it wouldn’t be quietly.
Sasha was two, three blocks at the most, from the fight venue. She heard the roar of the crowd, but more than that she felt Ewan’s presence in the threads of the invisible tether that bound them. It gave a tug at her chest and she wished she could rub the sensation away. But thanks to the piece-of-shit demons that held her captive, her wrists and ankles were still tied and secured to the floor.
Not for long, though.
“We need to get her moved.”
Sasha was having a hard time telling one voice from the other, but did it really matter? She was just grateful for the opportunity to escape the smell of sulfur. First things first, she needed to get free. Then, she needed to find a weapon.
“Sorath won’t want her there a second early,” one of the demons groused. “He’ll have your head if she is.”
“It’s gonna take a minute to get her out of that damned netting.”
Sasha kept her breathing even and shallow. If they were foolish enough to believe she hadn’t regained consciousness yet, she wasn’t about to correct them. It would be hard enough to take down two demons on her own. She didn’t need them being prepared for an attack.
“All right, then. Let’s do this. Fucking silver,” one of the demons muttered under his breath. “Makes me break out into a rash.”
Better than raw burns and angry welts.
More than being untied, Sasha couldn’t wait to be rid of the blindfold. She imagined this was how humans felt trying to find their way around in the dark. The blindness drove her freaking crazy. She needed all of her senses if she was going to get out of this mess.
Footsteps shuffled with a sandy scrape on the concrete. Sasha forced herself to relax despite her prone position. Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax. The weight of the silver netting lifted from her and with it the annoying prickles of pain along her exposed forearms and the small of her back where her T-shirt rode up. It was a small discomfort in comparison to the blistering heat of hellfire, however.
“Watch out!” Sasha jumped at the barked warning and prayed no one had noticed. “If she rouses, and you’re too close, she’ll rip your throat out.”
True. She wouldn’t waste an opportunity to put her fangs to use if one presented itself. Despite her vow to never drink from anyone but Ewan, she needed to fortify her strength. Then again, she guessed that vow meant little in the realization that Ewan had never cared for her. So many promises made that meant nothing now. Gods. Sasha’s heart ached and she forced the hurt to the back of her mind. She needed blood. Any vein would do.
“I clocked her good with that steel pole. Nearly split her head in two.” Sasha suppressed a growl. The bastard wouldn’t be bragging when she was done with him. “You think she’s healed up already? Without being able to sink her fangs into the nearest throat?”
The demon’s misconception that Sasha was too weak to heal worked in her favor. She could play the helpless female and when his guard was down, she’d attack.
“The fuck should I know?” the other one snapped. “Do I look like a gods-damned vampire to you?”
Good gods. Sasha wished they’d hurry the hell up. While they were standing around contemplating whether or not she was strong enough to fight back, Ewan was about to lose his life in the battle arena.
Sasha’s breath hitched. Despite his betrayal, despite her broken heart, she couldn’t simply let him die. True, his death would send her soul back into oblivion—a fate she didn’t think she’d survive—but beyond that, beyond her broken heart, she knew she’d never be able to live with herself if she condemned him to death. She was not Ian Gregor. She was not the demon kingpin. Her compassion and empathy made her who and what she was. Nothing would change that part of her nature no matter how badly she’d been hurt. She’d save Ewan despite his betrayal because she was better than all of them. Damn it. Why couldn’t she be cold and ruthless and only interested in saving her own damn neck?
“Just get her up. Sorath will put your head on a pike if you don’t get her where she needs to be when she needs to be there. Leave the silver cords behind, but leave her wrists and ankles cuffed. It’ll weaken her enough that she won’t be able to put up much of a fight.”
Son of a bitch. A thousand vile curses against these and every other demon in existence ran through Sasha’s mind. They certainly weren’t going to make this easy for her. True, the silver cuffs would weaken her. But with any luck, it wouldn’t be enough to make a difference when she made her move. She’d fight through the pain. Push past the weakness. A little silver wasn’t going to come between her and her mate.
Nothing would.
Sasha relaxed by small degrees as the tension from the silver cords that held her to the floor loosened and slipp
ed away. One obstacle down. Two to go.
A noxious cloud of sulfur settled over her as the demon bent low. Sasha stifled a gag and wondered how she’d ever force herself to pierce the demon’s vein when push came to shove. His blood had to taste like the seventh level of hell. Gag. Not an experience she was looking forward to.
The demon hoisted her up with an unceremonious heave, and deposited her on his shoulder. The angle wasn’t great—right now her best plan of attack was to bite him in the ass—but if she could manage to twist her body up and around, she could at least try for his upper arm. The neck would be ideal, though. Demons had particularly thick skin. From the looks of them, that skin was more delicate at the throat. Sort of a flaw in their anatomy in Sasha’s opinion.
“All right. Let’s get the hell out of here before she wakes the fuck up.”
Patience. Breathe. Calm. Bide your time …
Sasha let the words be a mantra as she waited for the demon to get her outside of wherever she’d been held and outside. There was no use breaking free now when the building might be protected by magic that refused to let her leave. Demons were tricky bastards. Wily. And they weren’t taking any chances with Ewan’s fight tonight. She could wait. A few more minutes and she’d have her chance …
The demon’s lumbering gait jostled her against his shoulder as his heavy footsteps beat a grating rhythm against the concrete floor. Was he going out of his way to dig his shoulder into her rib cage?
“If I had it my way, she’d be dead already.” The other demon was several feet ahead from the sound of his voice. Problematic, but not disastrous.
“Not gonna happen. Sorath wants the berserker dead before she’s dealt with.”
Of course. Sasha gnashed her teeth together and her fangs punctured her bottom lip. She quickly swiped it away with her tongue, lest the demons catch the scent. This Sorath wasn’t stupid. He had to have assumed that if Ewan died, Sasha would hunt him to the ends of the earth and beyond to avenge him. He’d leave no loose ends. This was intended to be a lose-lose situation for both Ewan and Sasha. No way out. Too bad for Sorath she didn’t accept loss.
“Sort of defeats the purpose to kill her now,” the one carrying her grunted. “No leverage against the berserker.”
“He’ll be dead soon enough, too. One less berserker in this world the better.”
Assholes. Sasha wouldn’t feel a bit of remorse about killing either one of them.
The whine and groan of a heavy metal door filled her ears and Sasha quelled the elation that flooded her chest. L.A.’s not-so-pristine air wafted to her nostrils and she’d never been more grateful to smell all of that smoggy goodness. They were finally outside, and Sasha wasn’t about to waste her opportunity.
She brought her torso up on the demon’s shoulder and twisted at the waist, curving her body around him like a scarf. The blindfold was still in place, making it tricky to direct herself but as he stumbled from the momentum shift, it knocked her close enough to his body that she could strike. Fangs bared, she latched on to skin and bit down as hard as her jaw would allow. The demon’s skin was tough—like biting into a tree branch—but she managed to penetrate the thick armor of flesh.
“Motherfucker!” The demon’s enraged shout sent a thrill through Sasha that she hadn’t felt in a long damned time. She let her own body weight lend momentum to her actions as the demon attempted to toss her from his shoulders and in the process, allowed Sasha to rip the wounds open in his throat. It wouldn’t put him down, but it was enough of a distraction to give her a slight advantage before he had the good sense to put his hellfire to work.
She had seconds to escape and they were ticking away too gods-damned fast. Her arms and legs moved slowly, hindered by the silver cuffs. Sasha brought her hand up and tore at the blindfold, unconcerned with her surroundings as she focused on the demon that stood bleeding beside her. A long machete dangled from his waist—real inconspicuous—and she managed to tear it from the holster before he could stop her. She slashed out and caught him in the stomach, spilling his guts to the sidewalk at her feet.
That would slow the son of a bitch down. One demon out of her hair. One more to go.
It felt as though she was running through sludge. Weighed down by the silver cuffs, she dug her feet into the soles of her boots and pushed, propelling her body toward the second demon who was already charging for her. She swung the machete low and the demon shifted in turn, but the movement was merely a feint and she brought the blade up in an upward arc. The effort to swing it was immense and she let out a battle cry as she put every ounce of energy she had into the swing. The blade sliced through the demon’s neck, spine, and muscle and his grotesque head rolled down the sidewalk toward his comrade as his body crumpled and bled out at her feet.
Sasha didn’t look back. She ran as fast as she could manage, pushing her weakened body to its limit. The sound of raucous cheers and jeers led the way, as well as the tether that inexorably bound her to Ewan as she ducked into a side alley and continued to run.
Hold on, Ewan. Gods, she prayed he wouldn’t allow himself to be beaten. I’m coming. Just hold on.
Because despite her broken heart, despite everything she knew, despite his betrayal, Sasha knew she wouldn’t survive the loss.
CHAPTER
33
Deal or no deal, the demon was the toughest opponent Ewan had ever fought. Resilient. Strong. Skilled and formidable. Quick and agile. Not to mention armed with deadly hellfire. Had this been a true test of skill and battle to the death, it would’ve been hours—hell, maybe even days—before a victor was crowned. It didn’t help that Ewan’s attention was divided between the fight in front of him and searching the crowd for any sign of Sasha.
He swore to the gods, if any harm came to her, he would kill every creature who’d had a hand in it.
A fist came out of nowhere and landed squarely on Ewan’s jaw. In the past twenty-four hours he’d been beaten, burned, and carved like a Thanksgiving turkey. Twice. His entire world had been turned on its head and he was fucking exhausted. The only positive thing to come out of dying in the arena tonight was the prospect of finally being able to get some gods-damned rest.
Ewan straightened as he shook off the lightheadedness from the force of the demon’s blow. He countered with a series of roundhouse kicks and artfully orchestrated hooks that put the demon flat on his ass. He might have agreed to die tonight, but before he did, Ewan planned to get his licks in.
The demon glared up at him with a cruel sneer. Hellfire sprang to life in his palm and he threw a fireball straight at Ewan’s face. Ewan dove to his left, narrowly missing the projectile that crashed through the webbing of silver that constructed the dome and into the crowd before it exploded into flames.
Ewan pushed himself up from the floor as he took in the scene of chaos that erupted around him. Well, this wasn’t fucking good. The hellfire would burn until it exhausted itself, drawing attention away from the fight. With fewer eyes to watch their performance, less money would exchange hands. It certainly wouldn’t make that bastard demon kingpin, Sorath, happy but that’s what the son of a bitch got for allowing his fighter to use hellfire in the arena. Ewan had made no agreement to help line the demons’ pockets. He’d simply agreed to die.
The hellfire and commotion surrounding the fight added another layer of bullshit for Ewan to try to ignore. He couldn’t let it concern him. He needed to keep his head in the game and live long enough to see Sasha alive and well. Ewan centered his focus and went after his opponent before he had the presence of mind to defend himself. He allowed every ounce of anger he felt, all of his heartache at leaving Sasha behind, all of his frustration for the cards he’d been dealt in this miserable life to fuel him as he pummeled the demon with his fists, elbows, knees, and feet. He grabbed the bastard by his shoulders, and delivered a head butt with so much force behind it that it cracked Ewan’s own skull.
Tendrils of heat coursed through his veins. Battle rage crested withi
n him, tightened his skin, and flooded his muscles. His vision shifted from full color to black-and-white and he felt the inevitable shift that would soon consume him and turn him into nothing more than a killing machine. Hold on. Don’t let it take you. Stay in control. Ewan balanced on the cusp of that force that threatened to overtake him. He drew from its power, allowing it to fuel his actions without losing himself completely to its seductive pull. He didn’t know how long he could hold on this way. Sooner or later, he’d have to tip one way or the other. And succumbing to the battle rage wasn’t an option.
Another fireball flew toward Ewan and he spun away. It caught him in the shoulder before deflecting and spiraling out toward the crowd in another bright orange, green, and blue explosion. He put the various screams and alarmed shouts to the back of his mind. He turned inward from the searing pain that radiated from his shoulder down his forearm. Instead, he focused on the demon’s smug expression and vowed to use his fist to wipe it from the asshole’s ugly face.
The demon’s lips pulled back into a vicious, pointy-toothed smile. “You’re going to die screaming, berserker.”
Gods, how he hated big talk. As though Ewan’s death would be on any terms other than his own. They’d been fighting for a good hour. The momentum continued to toggle between them. Give-and-take, a violent battle dance that held the eager crowd enthralled. Where was Sasha? Why hadn’t they brought her here yet? A million scenarios presented themselves to Ewan, none of which had her surviving the encounter. Ewan knew Sasha’s nature. Knew it as well as he knew his own. She would’ve tried to escape captivity. She would’ve put up a fight. What if she’d been hurt? What if she was already dead and he was doing all of this for nothing? Ewan’s heart stuttered in his chest. If that were the case, he’d prefer to die than live in a world without her in it.