“Jamie,” she whispered as fear coated her tongue.
His nostrils flared, making him look like the wolf he claimed to be. “I’m Hunter.”
Hunter. So, now she knew the name of the man who wanted to kill her.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“What?”
“Why are you here? What did you try to summon? Only stupid humans would dare do such a thing. No wonder you’re in this mess.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, I didn’t summon anything. I swear. This demon, Pyro, had his goonies or whatever kidnap me from my home so he could kill my…my true half.”
Hunter tilted his head again, as if considering what she’d said. “I won’t kill you, Jamie. If this demon really did take you away from your home, I’m sorry.” His eyes took a faraway look. “I was taken from my home as well.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. There really wasn’t anything more to say.
“You should get some rest. The games will start in the morning, or at least what passes for morning in hell. You’ll need all the energy you can get.”
“I’m human. I can’t fight the way they do.”
Hunter shook his head. “If they put us in the same cage, then you’ll fight with me against another. It’s good for their business to have pairs—it provides more gore and terror.” He flexed his fingers, as if looking at something on his hands that wasn’t there. “I’ve never lost a battle, not in all the years I’ve been here.”
Relief spread through her, though she knew it would probably only be short lived.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Jamie. I don’t know all their plans. I’ll do what I can. Maybe your true half will come to save you.”
What if she didn’t want him to? Not that she didn’t want to live. No, she totally wanted to. She just couldn’t bear the thought of Ambrose dying because of her.
There really didn’t look like there was much choice for her in any matter. In the morning, she’d wake and she’d fight.
She was strong.
At least, she had to keep telling herself that.
****
Hunter Brooks watched the human curl into a ball and pass out from sheer exhaustion. If she were to fight on her own, she’d die within moments unless the opponent wanted her to suffer. He couldn’t have that, not when she looked so small and helpless.
A curse for him, really.
He’d just have to save her too.
He looked down at his hands and swore he could still see the blood that had stained him for so long. He’d killed countless times to save himself, but he’d kill again to save another.
Was it worth it?
How much of his soul did he have left to lose?
Chapter 6
Balin slid the knife into its sheath at his waist and sighed. His body had weakened to a frighteningly low amount of energy. Not good if he wanted to save this human woman who may or may not have been his true half.
He ran his hand through his hair, his muscles tightening but tired. His true half? Could it really be that simple? Balin snorted. Okay, not simple, but at least there was a possibility, something that he hadn’t thought was possible. He didn’t know if he had the strength to survive what was coming, but he’d fight for her…and for himself nonetheless.
He had nothing to lose.
Not anymore.
Pyro had said he’d have Jamie at his home until he was done with her, then he’d sell her to the games for other demons’ enjoyment. Balin clenched his teeth at the reminder of what Pyro could be doing to Jamie at this moment, though the idea of what would happen once she reached the games sent a dose of ice down his back.
He quickened his steps, grabbed his pack, threw it over his shoulder, and said one last goodbye to the home that had sheltered him for so many years. No matter what happened tonight, he’d never come back to this place. He’d either be dead or would find a way to get Jamie out of here.
Jamie.
He liked the way her name sounded on his lips, though it had taken placating Pyro to get the name from him in the first place. As Balin made his way to his father’s house through the caverns on the other side of his home, he thought about the woman he was going to save or die trying.
She had lustrous brown hair that he wanted to run his finger through, just to see if it was as soft as it looked. Her blunt bangs framed her face, and he knew they’d make her eyes stand out, whatever color they may be. He’d just have to take a closer look when she was conscious. Hell, it sounded weird when he put it like that. Her skin looked as though it was darker through genetics, not from the sun, much like his own. The caramel color practically begged for his tongue, something he’d enjoy testing out one day.
That was, if he made it through whatever came next.
Balin shook his head, pissed with himself. He had to stop thinking about things like that.
He’d save her. He had to.
In his long life, he’d always had the notion of finding his true half, but he’d never put any real thought into who she might be, what she would look like, what she loved. He hadn’t wanted to put too much hope in a dream that most likely would never come true.
He’d never thought about what he would do once he found her. Would he woo her? Would she know him on sight?
He wasn’t too sure in Jamie’s case, as she was human, but he’d always thought that maybe if she were another paranormal being, she’d know him for who he was.
A demon with a heart.
Balin stopped where he was, ignoring the sharp rocks, the lava pools, and the heat from the fires around him.
A demon with a heart?
Really?
That’s what he called himself now?
Hades, he sounded like a loon, a freaking weakling who didn’t deserve a true half.
And, really, he wasn’t sure he did. After all, he’d spent most of his life in his father’s dungeons, too drugged and beaten to be of any use. When he hadn’t been there, he’d been fighting against the other factions of demons because that’s how life prevailed in the deepest pits of hell.
He hadn’t had a choice as a younger demon, and much like Fawkes did now, Balin had wanted to prove himself beyond being the son of the infamous Pyro. When Balin had chosen not to take souls, but to live weaker than the rest and depend on the strength of his mind and spirit. Rather than just the strength of his sword-bearing arm, he’d shamed his father to the point he’d almost succumbed to temptation and fed off the lives of the innocent and not-so-innocent.
Balin had lived through it all, weakening but with his morals intact. He’d always known his fate would be death. He’d almost given up and let it take him.
Now he had something to live for.
Jamie.
He had to find her. Had to save her.
Had to sleep with her.
He winced at that last thought.
Though fighting for their lives would take all his energy and just might kill him, the thought of sleeping with his true half scared him more than the former.
He’d had his share of women before, demon and the like, but he’d never slept with his true half. How was he going to explain to a human that he needed her to spread her legs for him to live?
Hades, that sounded like the worst pick-up line in the history of bad pick-up lines.
What about his father’s enemy, Ambrose?
Pyro had thought Ambrose was Jamie’s true half, meaning Balin could be totally wrong in his thinking and going off to fight for a woman who would be his death anyway.
It didn’t matter. He’d find out exactly what she was to him and to Ambrose. He didn’t have a choice, not really. He could either die alone in his home, wishing for a better outcome, or he could fight for the woman who could be his savior.
Though the latter sounded like the hell he lived in, it was worth it.
It had to be.
Balin crept through the jagged rocks, aware he was on his father’s terr
itory where he could be killed on sight since he hadn’t been invited. He slid a knife into his hand, just in case. The heat from the red sky beat down on him, the heat draining whatever energy he had.
He just needed to make it to the entrance to the underground tunnels, and he’d be fine. Once he was out of the direct heat, he’d be able to recharge as much as he could without souls as he made his way to Pyro’s and eventually to wherever Jamie was being held.
The crunch of rock beneath a leather boot reached Balin’s ears, and he lowered his body behind a boulder, his senses on high alert.
He gripped his knife, ready to take out whoever was there. He might have been weakening due to lack of souls, but that didn’t make him any less a fierce fighter.
He swallowed the lie and listened.
An arrow shot past him, missing him by an inch, and he rolled to the side, throwing the knife as he did so. He heard a groan from his assailant, and Balin slid his sword from its scabbard and risked a peek to see who it was and how many there were. He let out a breath at the sight of a lone soldier, squared his shoulders, and ran out from behind the boulder.
The other demon staggered, Balin’s knife embedded deep in his chest, but still raised his sword, prepared for battle. Balin ducked at a clumsy blow, shifted to his steady leg, and sliced the bastard’s head off with one quick strike.
The look of surprise on the demon’s face was priceless.
As if the weakling son of Pyro couldn’t have killed the demon in one quick blow.
Balin wiped his sword off on the pants of the dead soldier and did the same to his knife once he took it out of the demon’s chest. He didn’t want to leave any weapons behind in case the other man had friends, and frankly, Balin had a feeling he’d need all the weapons he had in the upcoming battle for Jamie…and his life.
Pain shot through him, and he coughed. Hell, he’d used up too much energy fighting. Quickly, he surveyed the area and didn’t see anyone else there. That didn’t mean he was alone, but it was the best he could do. He had only another ten or so minute hike until he made it to the mouth of the cave, and then he could recharge as he made his way to Jamie.
Jamie.
Yes, she was the reason he did this. It was worth it.
It had to be.
He practically stumbled the last few feet but gave a thankful prayer to whatever god would take him as he made it to the cave. The lack of fire, explosive heat, and red sky would help him breathe as he made his way, thankfully.
He could only hope he wasn’t too late.
Balin made it through the tunnels with relative ease, the path familiar to him, as he’d taken it numerous times as a kid so he wouldn’t be beaten. Pyro had always found him later and hit him harder, but Balin had at least had those few minutes of peace, and he was pretty sure Pyro had never found out how Balin had escaped—something that had angered the man even more.
Balin suppressed a shudder at the phantom feeling of the hot poker Pyro had used to sear his flesh as punishment.
He couldn’t let Pyro do that to Jamie.
Reaching the end of the tunnel, Balin pressed his hand along the outwardly invisible seam and twisted the hidden handle. The door popped open with a quiet hiss, and Balin made his way through, closing it firmly behind him. He didn’t sense anyone near him, but he couldn’t be too careful.
He crept along the halls of the dungeons his father loved to build and made his way to the top floor. There were no guards below, only ones on the first floors. Once someone made it past the dungeon door, they didn’t make it out alive so there was no reason for guards below. Well, at least in all cases but Balin’s.
According to Pyro, though, he was special.
Lucky him.
Balin had looked through the cells as he made his way up and didn’t see Jamie, only dead demons that needed to be cleaned up eventually.
Demons didn’t last long in Pyro’s care.
Balin made it to the room where he’d last seen Jamie, uneasy that he hadn’t seen or heard his father yet. He could only hope the bastard was asleep in his room or out killing something weaker than him.
He slowly opened the door and cursed, a deep disappointment sliding through him.
Fuck.
She wasn’t there.
Terror hit him hard, but he buried it. He searched the other two rooms on the ground floor but didn’t see her.
Hades, that could only mean one thing if what Pyro had said was true.
He’d taken Jamie to the games early.
Why?
Balin slinked through the house, dodging guards, and made it through the front door so no one would sense him. He hid behind a boulder, trying to catch his breath and gather his strength.
Why had Pyro taken her so early?
His father wouldn’t have become bored with her so easily, not when he thought she was Ambrose’s. No, he’d have wanted to play with her longer, savor the experience.
Again, he swallowed the bile at that thought.
Shit, could Pyro have noticed the connection between Balin and Jamie?
He’d tried to smother his expression when he’d entered the room, but there had been that split second of surprise and awe at seeing the woman who’d been his dreams—who could save him.
Hell, had it been his fault?
He prayed that Pyro hadn’t gotten angry and killed her. Though Balin hadn’t smelled a recent death within the walls, that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.
He gripped the hilt of his sword harder and cursed.
No, she was alive—she had to be.
Pyro would see Ambrose’s punishment and pain through, and if his father had sensed something was wrong with Balin, he’d made sure his son would feel that agony as well.
That meant that Jamie had to be at the games now.
Alone.
Not dead, no, she couldn’t be.
He’d know, right?
It didn’t matter. Either way, he had to make it to the games. Either to know for sure that both of their fates had been decided for them or to save her.
Then maybe they could get out of hell and have a life filled with something more than just the fires of hell. He’d never even spoken to this woman, but he knew she was the source of his hope. If Ambrose was also her true half, that also meant there was a chance he was part of Balin’s future as well—a triad.
He’d take anything he could get.
They could be his hope.
They were his hope.
Balin took a deep breath and began the long trip to the coliseum where the games were held. He could only hope that in the few short hours he’d seen Jamie, that she’d been healed and prepared for the games…not in the games.
As a human, she’d be a huge draw due to the fact that her death would be brutal, and the demons would want to see that.
He shook his head, pissed at himself for even thinking that. He’d find her first, damn it.
Ambrose was an angel and couldn’t come to hell to save her. That meant it was up to him to save her—something that made him feel stronger than he was.
Balin looked at the sturdy stone coliseum and cursed. This would be harder than just taking her from Pyro’s home. There were guards, dungeons, fighters with such scarred minds that their brutality was a thing of legends.
He made his way to the back entrance of the games, knowing he’d have to sneak in. Damn, he really didn’t want to do fight and kill, but it would be worth it to live and to find Jamie.
He’d have to make sure when he found her that she knew he wasn’t there only for himself, that he wanted her for him as a true half, not just to save his life.
Balin was pretty sure women liked hearing things like that.
Okay, now he was getting ahead of himself.
The back door was actually a large chain and iron gate that would be hell—literally—to break into. Meaning he’d have to take a key from one of the guards.
Balin took out his dagger and leapt at the first one he fou
nd, slicing the demon’s throat before he could take a breath or scream, alerting the others to Balin’s presence. Balin searched him and cursed.
This particular guard didn’t have a key, but he did carry a large sword, meaning he was the muscle of the operation.
Balin crept behind the other guard and made quick work of him, though each movement sucked out more energy from within. He felt his skin sweating, his body drawing on too much energy. He knew he must have looked pale and drawn, not the best condition for fighting, but it was all he could do until he found a way to save Jamie or die.
He just hoped it wasn’t the latter.
The key to the door lay on the second demon’s chest, attached to a chain around his neck. Balin took it from him, hid the bodies, and went in, locking the door behind him. He hoped if anyone came by they’d think the dead demons were passed out drunk, not dead, thus letting the world know there was an intruder amongst them.
There were hundreds of cells in the basement below the fighting floor of the coliseum, and it would be pointless for Balin to search them for hours, but he knew there was a list of prisoners and cell numbers in the back room where the game leaders would make bets of their own.
Instead of hiding, he strode through the place like he owned it. After all, he was a demon, scarred from war and his father; he’d fit in. Better to hide in plain sight than look like he was out of place.
He made his way to the back room, ignoring the other demons as they walked past, though they ignored him as well.
Thankfully.
The board was a mishmash of names, cell numbers, species, and fight times. There was no real order for anything, but Balin looked anyway. He scanned the names, cursing when he couldn’t find her…
There.
Human. Cell 475. Midnight Death.
As far as Balin could tell, there wasn’t another human on the board. Relief then fury spread through him at what she would have to face if he didn’t get her out of there.
Midnight Death was the highlight of the games. A bloodbath of torture and rape before they killed their victim.
Well, fuck that, Jamie wouldn’t be part of it. He’d get her out of there before then.
Her Warriors' Three Wishes (Dante's Circle) Page 6