by Tenaya Jayne
Netriet swallowed and pinched her eyes shut. "Baal gave me this arm, and with it, the ability to exact my revenge on Zefyre. So, I did." She broke down completely then, her shoulders jerking with sobs. "I laughed, Merick. I laughed as I killed her…I never knew I could do something…so disgusting. So base. I can blame the shadow, but I gave in to her." She hunched over farther. "I struck Baal, and I ran from him. He's cruel and twisted… You'll despise me now. Now you know the truth. Now you know what I'm capable of."
"Who do you think I am, Netriet? Do you think my hands are clean of blood?"
She looked up at him desperately.
"I should have told you about Geanna. I wasn't ready." His eyes went flat as he watched his memories. "I was betrayed by my best friend. We were soldiers. Mindless, order-following drones. He was given the order to kill me and my family, in order to frame the wolves…"
She watched the agony in his eyes and didn't press him for more than he could manage to say aloud.
"It took me years, but when I found him, do you imagine I didn't kill him? Because I did. Mercilessly. I heard the screams of my children with every cry of pain he offered up and every plea for forgiveness. Do you hate me for that?" he challenged.
"No. Why would I?"
"Exactly. The law will call you a criminal, a vigilante. Maybe you went against your real nature. Maybe, in the heat of the moment, you enjoyed inflicting pain a little too much. All right, fine. But you're no monster for killing your killer. Should you have taken the high road and moved past it? Probably. Not that the shadow would have let you."
"Why are you so easy on me?"
He shrugged. "I love you."
His words hit her like a hammer. She frowned. Then she huffed and stood up. "Oh, come on! I'm wrestling with guilt right now as it is, and you've got to lay that on me… Damn it, Merick… I never wanted to hurt you, but I have anyway." She glanced at him and shook her head. "If I wasn't with Baal…"
He stood back up and crossed his arms. "Yeah, tell me about that. Tell me about Baal."
He watched her face and body language closely. She looked almost frightened.
"What do you want to know?"
"Tell me about your first eye contact."
"It was the second day of the bazaar…I was avoiding you. Renee told me you'd had a life mate. I was angry that you hadn't told me, and I was…" She hesitated and blushed.
"You were what?"
She put her hands on her burning cheeks. "Jealous. Gosh, that's so stupid. I was jealous of your memories, knowing no matter what, I could never measure up."
"Hmm…well, I…so, what happened when you saw Baal?"
Her frown set deeper, and she shivered. "It was like dreaming. A pull in my gut. Dizzy. Magnetic. And when he touched me, there was this hot and cold—" She shook her head. "It's addictive, this sensation I get from him. I want more of it."
"You didn't feel lightning in your heart?"
"No," she said slowly, "Nothing like that. He makes me feel off balance, drunk."
"Can you feel his emotions as if they were your own?"
"No."
He reached out and took her hands, ignoring the odd texture of her new one. "I don't think Baal is your life mate. I think it's a trick."
He didn't expect her anger.
"What do you know? Just because you don't understand it. Just because what Baal and I have is not like what you had with Geanna, that doesn't mean it's not real. You're a vampire, and you mated a vampire. I'm a vampire, and I mated an elf. You don't know what that's like."
"Okay, you're right about that. I'm sorry."
"You don't want what we have to be real, so you malign it."
He sighed. "That's true. I don't want it to be real, but my suspicions are valid, nonetheless."
She pulled her hands from his, scrubbed them over her face, and sat back down again. "I'm sorry for getting angry. In truth, I doubt my connection to Baal, too. It scares me. He scares me. That's why I snapped at you…it's more like obsession than love. I'm not myself with him. I do things I never would have with anyone else. But then I feel…I can't deny the attraction I have to him, it's like he's her mate and not mine." Her shoulders slumped. "I'm so tired. I feel sick."
He sat down next to her and took her natural hand in his. He pulled the sleeve up her forearm to her elbow, exposing all the scars, bleeding their darkness into the skin around them. "How long has this been going on?"
She looked down and grimaced. "It's new. I didn't look this way when I got dressed to go kill Zefyre."
"She's taking over you, Netriet."
"I know. She keeps talking about merging, but it's nothing but a filthy lie. She means to conquer me." Netriet dropped her voice to a whisper. "She almost has. She's getting stronger."
"Is she talking to you now?"
"No. It seems she still hates you. She's sleeping, or something like that. I think taking over me, to kill Zefyre, exhausted her."
"So she hates me, but she loves Baal?"
"Oh, yeah, she loves him all right."
He smiled and raised her hand to his lips. "Be kind enough to humor me. I'd like to think of her as his, and you as mine."
She laid her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Merick, don't…"
"Shh. Don't contradict me. Leave me my illusion, just for tonight."
She placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "All right."
He looked at her in surprise.
"What?" she asked.
He leaned in, pressing his lips on hers. She sighed, falling into the kiss. Warmth enveloped her. Her eyes opened slowly when he pulled back, a triumphant smile on his face.
"He's not your mate. You couldn't have kissed me if he was. Infidelity is impossible to true mates."
"Maybe there's something more to your illusion than I thought… But I need to know for sure."
He squeezed her hand in panic. "Stay with me. Don't go back to him. He's not good."
She laughed humorlessly. "I know he's not good. But he's mine. In some way, fragmented or not, he's mine."
"Look what he's done to you!" He lifted her exposed arm up a few inches. "He makes the shadow stronger."
"And you make it weaker… Touch me, Merick. Do everything you can to make me myself again."
His eyes went so dark. Slowly, he moved off the cot and back into a kneeling position in front of her, his hands resting on her knees. "Do you trust me?"
She looked intently into his eyes. "Above all others, Merick, I trust you."
He grabbed the hem of the shirt at her hips and lifted it off her in one fluid move. "Lay down."
She did. Watching him watch her, a surge of purely feminine pride washed over her as she saw what looking at her did to him. It wasn't like when Baal looked at her. It was normal, natural.
"Are you warm enough?"
She quirked her eyebrow. "What if I'm not, what are you going to do about it?"
He took a deep breath and let it out on a groan. "I'm going to build up the fire… You're going to kill me before the night is done, I'm sure of it."
"What?"
He didn't answer but walked over to the little stove and stoked the flames. She watched him, perplexed. Heat quickly filled the small space. He came back to her side.
"You're beautiful, Netriet."
He started at her feet, his hands moving on her skin. He massaged her. The inky marks around her scars began to fade. The darkness literally pulled away from his touch, shrinking back into the confines of the scars. She watched him work, amazed at his sacrifice. He focused all his energy on restoring her.
There were moments, plenty of them, when his eyes roamed over her, and she could see his resolve crashing to ruins. Then he would close his eyes, take a deep breath, and continue to work on her skin. He worked up her whole body then asked her to turn over, and he repeated the process on her back. She became so relaxed under his touch she was on the verge of falling asleep.
"There. It's done." He sounded tired. "Are you awake?"
>
"Barely." Her voice was muffled in his pillow. "I think you missed a spot."
"Did I? Where?"
She rolled onto her back, gazing at him serenely. "My face."
He knelt down next to her, touching her face gently.
"I don't think your current method will work on my face."
"Oh? What do you suggest?"
She smiled. "Use your lips, not your hands."
He groaned again, pressing his lips to her temple. Then to her cheek, then her chin. When he reached her neck, he paused. "You're killing me," he whispered.
"You're killing me back."
He hovered over her, his mouth an inch from hers. "Just one left."
He kissed her lips. He kissed her as she had never been kissed before. With just a kiss he made her feel safe, loved. When he broke away, the weight and electricity in the air between them was devastating, unbearable. It was there, in their eyes, and they both knew it. She didn't have to leave it up to him, but she did. He had two choices, take her, or retreat. The moment dragged ruthlessly.
He exhaled and moved back from her, showing her plainly the pain and effort it caused him. "I'm afraid if we…there might be some awful repercussions for you, because of your connection to him. And if you walked away in the morning… I'm afraid my heart would break irrevocably."
She pulled the covers up and over herself. "So that's it?"
"You're all done. I've restored you as best I can." He smirked. "I didn’t try to do anything for your eye. Want me to stick my finger in it?"
The tension broke as she laughed. "No, thank you, but you could try your tongue."
He laughed as well. "I don't know who would find me licking your eyeball more disgusting, you or me?"
"Let's not find out."
"So what do we do now?"
"I don't know. I have to go back to him. You know that, don't you?"
He shook his head violently. "I don't know that at all. Please, Netriet. Please stay with me. Stay with the Fair. Or we could leave, if you want. Disappear. We could go to the coast. Begin anew. Salvage what's left of our lives and find some peace."
His words sounded so good. The picture he painted in her mind was a soft, beautiful fantasy. A quiet life with a good solid man who loved her, next to the ocean. She closed her eyes. "I wish I could go, Merick. Truly I do."
He sighed and looked out of the tent flaps at the sky. "It's almost morning."
"Why don't you come and lie down with me, just for what remains of the night. Give me a little more peace before I have to leave and sort out my screwed up life."
"I could deny you clothing and keep you prisoner here."
"I suppose you could. But then these walls aren't exactly made of anything soundproof. I'm sure someone would hear me screaming."
"Won't you at least stay the day? Visit with Martia? She's been so worried about you."
She frowned. "Maybe. I'll think about it."
He lay down with her. She dozed off, her head pillowed on his arm, her hand resting on his chest. His heart beat painfully as if the blood-pumping organ knew it was on the verge of cracking in half. If only he could convince her to stay longer, just a little longer. The more time she spent away from that Rune-dy the better.
The sounds of the Fair waking began to happen all around them. None of it roused her in the slightest. He didn't want to take his eyes off her for a second, but he could go out, get her some breakfast and some clothes, and be back in a few minutes. No one knew she was there. No one would bother her.
Before he stepped out, he decided when she woke, he would tell her about the night she first came to the Fair. The night Martia had given her a shawl, and he had killed two werewolves to save her life. He would let the words fall from his mouth without filtering them. He'd tell her how she moved him the first time he saw her.
He got the grubby old pack she'd left behind that night, out from where he'd stored it. The patchwork shawl lay folded in the top. He set the pack quietly under the cot and stepped out into the morning.
****
"Netriet…wake up, Netriet."
She opened her eyes, instantly conflicted with guilt, shame, and anger. Baal leaned over her. She looked around for Merick. He wasn't there. Still, his presence wasn't required to confirm the compromising situation she was in. Asleep, naked, in another man's bed.
"How did you find me?"
"I'm your mate. There's nowhere you could go, that I couldn't find you. You live in my heart."
She gazed at him, amazed as a single tear rolled down his cheek.
"How could you do this?"
"I…" She didn't know what to say.
"Come on, let's go home."
She gathered her courage. "I don't know where my home is, Baal. I'm not sure I belong with you."
He touched her on the collarbone. Her eyes rolled back as his touch hit her with a dose of whatever the hell it was she always felt when he touched her.
"Come with me. Let me show you."
The shadow roused from its hiding.
Baal opened a portal and pulled her to her feet. He tucked her into his side, covering her with his cloak. The ground slid out from under her feet. He was the tide. A dangerous, dark, sexy tide.
How could pain offer comfort? Because it was familiar? Why did she long for his affection, chase and beg for it? Because he withheld it? The granules of love and caring he gave her were sweeter because she almost believed him incapable of them?
The portal took them back inside his cave. He shoved her down onto the stone bed. "You want proof? I'm going to give it to you."
The pleasure he gave her broke her down into sharp pieces and erased every doubt she had. He was relentless and kept up his onslaught on her body and senses until she thought she might pass out or die.
****
Baal looked down at Netriet as she tossed and turned beside him. He'd drugged her hard this time. Her eyelids fluttered, and she moaned, the sex hallucination wreaking havoc on her. He smirked, got up, and put his clothes back on. Maybe he should bathe. He'd had to touch her more this time with more of his body than before. He shivered, disgusting. She was so stupid. As if he'd ever defile himself with sex, especially with a creature like her.
Frustrated, he sat back down next to her on the bed and began running his index finger along her longest scar. The darkness throbbed under his touch. This was what he wanted. Whatever this power was that had entered little Netriet should be his. It was wasted on her. The possibilities drove him crazy. What could he become with this power? Could he cut it out of her? That kind of operation would kill her. Not that he cared. He just didn't want to risk damage to the shadow.
He had to keep total control over her now, until he figured out how to extract it. Or he learned what its true origin was. Netriet's memories were not very helpful. She'd been in a death sleep when the shadow came into her. Or was placed there…by Shi? Possibly. Damn. Shi wouldn't tell him anything, let alone help him. He'd have to find a way to persuade her.
Netriet's true identity had proved stronger than he had originally anticipated. A mistake he wouldn't repeat. But now that she had the new arm, her physical strength was a force to be reckoned with. He wouldn't have given it to her had he known she was still able to fight against the dark entity inside her. He had to neutralize her. But how? He couldn't stand to keep up this lover stuff, and he was too busy for it in any case.
He laughed as the idea of what to do with her hit him. Oh, she was going to be livid when she woke.
He went to the room he'd forbidden her to go into and began to prepare it. He carefully packed up his stolen and illegal items and removed them from the room. Except one very large thing. All these years he'd wondered why he kept it, and what occasion he'd ever have to use it. He checked the hinges and chain, wondering if the metal was strong enough to hold her. Maybe he should just remove the arm. No, as long as the shadow had control of Netriet, it had control of the arm. Then he had another idea that would hold her
still and make her obey, no doubt.
****
She felt the pain before she woke up. She was lying on her side, something hard and cold pressing into her flesh, but somehow she felt like she was floating. Her body screamed with agony. She felt dirty in a way she had never experienced before. As though filth had been packed deep down into her pores, over her whole body. The same filth caked the inside of her lungs and clung to her throat.
For a moment, Netriet didn't have the courage to open her eyes. She wanted to touch her face, run her natural hand over her body and make sure it was intact, but she couldn't move her arm. She tried, she was restrained.
She opened her eyes. Her mind rejected what she saw. She sat up a little. Her wrist was chained to a metal bar. A metal bar of a cage. A cage suspended three feet off the floor from a hook in the stone ceiling. She'd been lying naked on the metal mesh of the cage's floor. There was nothing in the room with her, except a stone jar in the corner, emitting a grey light.
The only comfort he'd given her was the fur off the stone bed. This wasn't love. It wasn't even kink. It was monstrous and hateful. And she knew then Merick had been right. Her connection with Baal was fake. It was like being back with Philippe, chained to the wall. Well, Baal would pay, just as Philippe had paid. She'd break this cage open with her new arm, then she'd break him.
As she lifted her black hand to the chain on her wrist, the light glinted off her index finger. Slowly she laid her new hand in her lap and cried, defeated and wishing for death. He'd collared her.
Chapter Thirteen
Forest listened carefully to Kindel as he described the crime scene at Zefyre's house. She looked over the compiled information on her desk from her team and wished she still had Redge handling this kind of stuff for her. She didn't doubt her team's work. Redge had trained them after all. But his eyes cut through things in an uncanny way. She needed his opinion, but he left her no choice but to go on without it.