by Amber Kallyn
“Kill me then. I’d rather be in hell than betray my master.”
Nora shrugged. “Well, then. Guess there’s only one thing to do.”
The girl closed her eyes, ready for the swing of Connor’s sword.
He sighed. “Dalia?”
Nora nodded.
Ashlyn froze, not sure what they were talking about. “What’s going on?”
Nora reached her side as Connor dragged the demon toward the parking lot.
“Dalia is an Omega. She can... not coerce the Arcaine to do her bidding, not really, but something similar.”
Ashlyn’s heart thumped loudly. “An Omega?”
She’d looked at the woman and saw a frilly girl, barely a woman, a brand new vampire, not someone who was one hell of a powerful person.
She and Nora followed Connor back to the parking lot. Nora beeped her Camaro and the trunk lid rose. He shoved the demon inside the tiny space.
“Behave,” he said as he slammed the lid shut.
After he got in the car, Ashlyn gingerly took her seat, trying not to press her back against the leather.
Why hadn’t Connor just killed the demon? Every line in his body had said he wanted to, desperately. Yet he hadn’t. Why?
She couldn’t believe it was just to get information. They could have gone after any of the others that had been in the forest. Surely one of them would have talked.
The girl in the trunk started kicking as they left the bar. Thumps accompanied them all the way back to the castle.
As Ashlyn got out of the car, Connor grabbed her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?” He tugged her shirt up. His fingertips drifted near the cuts, sending chills along her heated skin.
“I can take care of it.”
He growled.
She glanced at him. “What?”
“The poison is already working. Your skin...” his voice trailed off.
“I told you, I can take care of it.”
His eyes flashed red as he gripped her upper arm and pushed her into the castle.
“Let me go,” she stated calmly.
“Nay.”
Moving to the open doorway on the right, he looked in, caught someone’s eye, and growled, “Bring me some of the demon salve.”
The vampire’s face drained of what little color it had and he nodded.
Connor hustled her up the stairs and towards her bedroom, then dragged her inside. Crossing the room, he pushed her sideways into a chair, before disappearing into the bathroom.
“You’re being an overbearing jerk again,” she muttered.
“I am not,” he called. A cupboard banged and the water turned on, then off. He came back, holding a couple dark towels.
From the doorway, the young vampire cleared his throat, a large silver jar in his shaking hands.
“Hurry up and bring it in, man,” Connor said, his voice flat.
The kid stumbled across the room, set the jar on the nearest table, then fled.
Connor barely noticed as worry for Ashlyn burned in his gut. How could he have let this happen? Some protector he was.
Chapter Ten
Connor clenched his fists in the towel as he stared at the stubborn woman. Ashlyn didn’t even seem to realize the danger she was in.
He nudged her forward, trying to be soft. When she didn’t budge, he pushed her until he could reach her back.
Easing the torn shirt aside, he uncovered four slashes running from her right shoulder to just above her jeans.
“I told you, I can take care of it,” she repeated, but this time her words were slightly slurred.
His heart skipped a beat, then resumed at double pace. He’d seen men twice her size felled by the poison from a demon’s scratch.
Worry fired his blood and he stiffly took one of the wet towels and began cleaning her cuts.
She hissed, arching away from him.
Clamping a hand on her shoulder to keep her still, he continued.
Her head dropped to the arm of the chair, and she moaned almost inaudibly, as she passed out.
Damn woman. Her stubbornness might have killed her. Still could.
He eased her shirt wider apart, making sure there weren’t any other scratches. Then he stared in horror as he uncovered a mass of scars running over her porcelain skin.
Both sides of her back were twisted with scars. He could only guess at a few of the things used.
Whips, knives, claws, fire.
“Who the hell did this to you?” His fury boiled. The urge to make her tell him so he could torture those responsible filled him.
She didn’t respond other than a moan as the poison made her nearly catatonic. Connor was surprised she hadn’t passed out.
Sean strode in the doorway, froze as he took in everything. His face flushed red and his eyes burned. “What the hell are you doing?”
Connor shook his head. Right now, he had to stop the demon’s poison. He began to clean Ashlyn’s cuts once more, saying, “She was injured by a demon’s claws. Poison is running through her body right now.”
The boy’s eyes widened and he hurried over.
As Connor finished cleaning the wounds, he glanced at the kid, his mind caught between confusion and some strange, soft feeling towards the boy that he couldn’t quite name.
“Hand me the jar,” he said softly.
Sean glanced at the silver container, asking, “What’s in it?”
“It’s a mix of herbs and magic made by an Apache shaman. It’ll help dilute the poison, as long as it’s not too deep in her blood already.”
Sean blinked. “She doesn’t need it.”
Connor jerked his head back. “Damn well she does.”
Shaking his head, the boy pointed to Ashlyn’s back. “Look.”
He did. The red of the poison veining from the slashes had shrunk, creeping back toward the wounds. “Impossible,” he whispered.
“She’s practically immune to demon poison. Sure, it’ll hurt her a little, but that’s all.”
“How?” Connor asked, amazed as the streaks of the poison faded.
Sean shrugged. “Immunity.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“Sure there is.” His voice deepened. “You face something day after day for hundreds of years and your body builds up a tolerance.”
Connor froze, meeting Sean’s gaze. “What do you mean?” He had an idea, but didn’t dare let it enter his mind.
“I’m sure you can figure it out, Judge.”
Connor couldn’t stand the thought of Ashlyn being tortured in such ways. Hundreds of years?
Ashlyn groaned as she began to come to.
Sean strode around the chair. “You can leave now. I’ll take care of my mother.”
Wordlessly, Connor shook his head. “I’m already here, I’ll help.”
Ashlyn lifted her head and stared at him, saying, “I don’t want your help.”
Her words, the utter dismissal in her eyes, pierced something inside his chest. Wordlessly, he stood and left the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wood, letting his head rest on its coolness.
From inside the room, he heard the boy ask, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Of course, darling. I just need a bit of bandage, but I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
The boy’s steps moved toward the bathroom.
Connor left, assured she’d be okay. Now. As he headed downstairs, he couldn’t stop thinking about what the kid had said.
Hundreds of years?
Connor had been poisoned by demons before, and he remembered every excruciating second, in which time turned into a hellish, never-ending abyss.
Day after day?
He couldn’t imagine the strength one would need to suffer such things and come out all right. He knew demons, knew their love of torture. The poisoning would have only been the tip of their pleasure.
As he reached the entryway, Jordan and Dalia strode in.
Dalia’s eye
s darkened. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Ashlyn was hurt, but she’s okay now.”
“How?” Jordan asked softly, his voice laced with anger.
“Demon claws.”
Jordan glanced up at the ceiling. “You used the salve?”
“Nay.” He took a deep breath, still trying to get over the thoughts of what she must have gone through. “She’s built up an immunity.”
“Ah.” Jordan tugged Dalia closer to his side as if he needed her comfort, but he didn’t seem surprised.
“You knew what happened to her?” Connor asked, incredulous.
“No details. She summed it up in a sentence. I didn’t push.”
“She’s fine, she’s a strong woman.” Dalia patted Jordan’s chest. “Come, where’s the demon I’m to interview?”
They headed downstairs into Jordan’s dungeon. It was one long hallway, with doors on both sides, leading to rooms secure enough to hold any Arcaine, including ravenous, mindless newly turned vampires.
Guards stood in front of one of the metal doors on the left. They nodded to Jordan as he entered the room.
Inside, the demon was chained to a chair against the far side. She glared at them, lips twisted in a snarl.
Jordan leaned against the wall near the door and waved for Connor to stay back as well.
Dalia strode forward, humming lightly beneath her breath. “Hello,” she said.
The girl blinked in confusion, growling.
“Ah, I see your fear. Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Kill me,” the girl screamed. “I won’t betray my master.”
“Yes. That’s what they told me.” Dalia hunched down in front of the chair, staring into the girl’s eyes. “Will you at least tell me your name? There’s no harm in that.”
“Amy.” The girl blinked rapidly, struggling against the chains. “You can’t make me talk, bitch.”
Dalia chuckled, the sound light and musical compared to the demon’s harsh screams. “You’re right. I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”
The girl blinked again. Her head jerked side to side as if trying to look away from Dalia. But she couldn’t.
Reaching out, Dalia grasped one of Amy’s small hands, patting it. “You don’t want to betray your master. I understand that. Loyalty is wonderful. But is it really betrayal to do the right thing?”
Amy stopped struggling as she stared into Dalia’s eyes. She was caught in the power.
Connor knew how it felt, like being in a wonderful place, floating inside a rainbow of colors that warmed you to the soul.
He’d luckily not been sucked down as far as the demon apparently was though.
Dalia continued humming under her breath, patting the girl’s hand. “Your master, Laroche, is trying to do bad things. Not just to my town and those living here, but to my family.”
Connor froze, straightening a little, at how easily Dalia was able to claim Ashlyn and Sean as her family.
“You would protect your family, wouldn’t you?” Dalia asked.
Amy nodded slowly, dazed.
“That’s all I want to do. Protect mine.”
The girl’s eyes were completely unfocused, and beneath the demon red, a tinge of blue rose.
“Can you help me protect my family?”
“Yes,” Amy whispered.
“Then please, tell me where Laroche is.”
The girl began to shake her head, stopped, but didn’t speak.
Dalia said softly, “This is going to take me some time.”
Jordan settled deeper against the wall.
Connor glanced at him, then sighed. “I need food.”
“Ashlyn and your son probably need to eat as well,” Jordan replied, raising a brow.
Connor didn’t reply that he’d been thinking the same thing as he left the room and headed upstairs to the kitchen.
* * *
After Ashlyn finally convinced Sean to leave, she showered and then sat on the couch in front of the fire, staring into the flames.
Connor was a contradiction.
He hated demons, had killed hundreds. He hated what their son was.
Yet, earlier, he’d been insistent, trying to save her from what he thought would kill her. He’d spoken to Sean kindly.
Her mind flashed an image of his face when she’d told him Sean was his son. He’d lost all color, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief.
He’d turned from them, as she’d known he would do. Yet, his actions since then had been strange. He was still an overbearing jerk, but he’d treated her and Sean with respect, rather than his anger during the first day here.
He confused her, when she shouldn’t even care. She didn’t have time to waste thinking about him, wondering about his actions, his motives.
A soft knock came at her door and she called, “Come in.”
Her breath stuttered when Connor entered, carrying a tray of food. Her stomach grumbled at the scent of blood, but she ignored her hunger for both dinner, and the man. “What do you want now?”
“You should eat. Regain your strength.”
“Fine. Thank you. Leave it by the door.”
“Nay.” He crossed the room and set the tray on the table in front of her. “I’ve not eaten either.” Stiffening, she began to refuse him, but he added, “Perhaps you could tell me about Sean?”
Her lungs froze. She couldn’t draw in a breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. There was no way she’d heard him right. “What?” she squeaked.
He grinned, the same boyish smile she remembered. Her stomach flipped at the sight, as her heart longed for the past.
But the past was dead and gone, she reminded herself.
“Please,” he asked, holding out a mug of blood.
Hand shaking, she took it, cupping it between her palms. “Why?”
Connor met her gaze. Emotions flashed across his face. “Because he’s my son.”
“He’s half demon. Aren’t you still planning to kill him?” she replied sarcastically, drawing on her anger to push out the other, softer emotions he could still make her feel.
“No.” His simple answer confused her further.
“Why not?”
Connor arched a brow. “You told me earlier not all demons are bad. Perhaps I’m listening.”
Mind spinning, she sipped at the blood, relishing the sweet taste.
“Don’t I have the right to learn about him?” Connor asked as he took his own cup from the tray.
“I don’t know.” She gulped the contents of her mug.
She leaned forward, gently due to the still healing cuts down her back, and set the cup down.
Connor lifted a plate and handed it to her.
Staring at the steak and veggies, the mouthwatering aroma making her stomach growl loudly, she made up her mind. “What do you want to know?”
“How did he become a half breed?”
“I told you, I’m not sure.” Her voice wavered.
“I didn’t believe you then, and I still don’t now.” He sighed, taking his own plate. Setting it on his knees, he sliced a bit of steak and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly while he stared at her.
Well, she never had been a very good liar, even when she spoke the partial truth. “I don’t know all the hows. The demon, Laroche, somehow changed him while I was pregnant. I went from human to vampire while carrying him. It created some strange opening he used to add his own demonic magic to Sean.”
He finished his bite. “What was he like as a child?”
Her anger softened. His interest seemed genuine. “Like you.”
He froze, another piece of steak halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?”
“He’s always been smart, kind, generous.”
“Happy?” Connor asked softly.
She broke their staring contest as memories of Sean’s tenth birthday came to her. He’d never been happy, but he hadn’t endured the tortures she had. Until then.
He’d finally been old enough for Laroche to determine her son’s magic. With glee, Laroche had told her about her son and his power, and the ways the demon planned to use it.
She’d tried to escape yet again. And again, it had been futile. But this time, she hadn’t been the only one punished.
Sean’s screams still tortured her, even more than what Laroche had physically done to her.
“He is now,” she finally said, though it wasn’t complete. How she yearned to give Sean so much more. Safety, normalcy. True and complete happiness.
“And you?” Connor asked. “Are you finally happy?”
“I have my son, and my life. I don’t need anything else.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She glanced up. The lines on his face were deeper, and regret and pain filled his eyes. “For what?”
“I...” he stopped, clearing his throat, though his voice remained thick with emotion. “I should have realized you lived. Found you. Both of you.”
His statement swept through her, the depth of his regret crushing her. “It’s not your fault.”
“Aye,” he replied, looking away. “It is.”
He tossed his still nearly full plate back onto the tray with a clatter. Jumping up, he strode to the fireplace. “You were my wife.”
“Not quite,” she said stupidly. Her emotions were rising up from a cold, lonely place, and filling her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in eons.
Connor spun. “You were my love, my wife in all ways but the ceremony. My responsibility.”
Stunned, she stared at him. She’d never thought he would take the knowledge of her and Sean like this. It had to pound at his warrior’s pride, yet the emotion blazing from his eyes was so much more than that.
Pain prickled over her heart as the heat in his gaze filled with love.
For her.
She turned, unable to keep looking at him without choking up over the knowledge of all she’d lost. He might be on his way to accepting their son, but if he knew what she’d been through, night after night, for hundreds of years, his feelings for her would die a quick, cold death.
Chapter Eleven
Connor watched her turn from him. It was what he deserved, after all she’d been through. But he wanted more. Her forgiveness.
His chest expanded as he realized he wanted even more than that.