by Rosalie Redd
The creases in the skin around her eyes flinched ever so slightly, but she held his gaze. He wanted to pull her to him, kiss her until she relented, and remind her of the passion between them. But he held his ground. To give in to his impulses would weaken his position in the game, and he was all about winning this war.
A slow, forced smile curved her lips, and she stepped back. With a grace that drove him mad, she turned around, her chin held high. As she walked away, he couldn’t help but admire her spunk. His pulse raced. He ached to win her back, and one way or another, he’d do just that.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The picket fence was not what Demir expected to see. The farmhouse with its white paint, floral drapes, and porch swing reminded him of humans. Thick in the air, the scent of Gossum stung his sensitive nose. In human form, he strolled across the overgrown lawn, fighting against the new bonds that bound him. As much as he tried, he couldn’t break free. His feet marched on.
The front door opened on a squeaky hinge. Ram stood in the doorway, a broad smile exposing his serrated teeth. “Welcome, welcome, welcome, Demir. Such a pleasure to have you join us.”
Bile rose in Demir’s throat, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking up the stairs. Crossing the threshold, he passed within inches of Ram’s putrid hide. His pulse thrummed in his veins, and he wanted to slay the creature that had forced him to murder Aramie.
My mate. His stomach grew heavy even as his chest expanded. Although the word sounded odd to his brain, the rightness in it was something he couldn’t deny. The lone day they’d had together was the best one of his life.
Ram’s brood sat in chairs and on the sofa, some asleep, some nursing a bottle of Smirnoff’s. One by one, they roused, their noses twitching.
Jakar stood. His gaze raked over Demir.
“Stay calm, everyone. He’s my new right-hand man.” Ram slapped Demir on the back.
Pain radiated from the bite mark on Demir’s shoulder, and a wave of dizziness nearly dropped him.
Jakar’s eyes narrowed on Ram. “What’s going on?”
“Demir and I,” Ram twirled his hand in the air, “are joined at the hip, shall we say.”
Demir wanted to growl, but Ram’s control was like a rival Panthera who had him pinned, biting into his neck, forcing his submission.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jakar’s words were laced with ice.
Ram raised his eyebrows then furrowed them, his attention focusing on Jakar. “A bit jealous are we? Don’t fret. He’s a means to an end, nothing more.”
One of the brood inched closer to Demir. The creature’s stench made him gag, and he couldn’t stop the natural reflex. He crouched and puked on the floor, remnants of his last meal dripping from his mouth.
“Ugh, I forgot what it was like to have a cat in the house.” Ram curled his lip and pointed to the Gossum that had approached Demir. “You, clean this up.”
The creature scurried away and returned with a cloth.
“Come, Demir. I have plans for you.” Ram placed his arm around Demir and led him toward a doorway on the far side of the kitchen.
Jakar raced around them and opened the door. The smell of damp earth and decay wafted up the old wooden stairs. With the tip of his razor-sharp fingernail, Ram flicked on the light switch. A muted glow bathed the staircase in amber light.
The hair on Demir’s nape rose, as instinctually, he knew only pain awaited him there.
Ram nodded to Jakar. “Please, lead the way.”
Jakar headed through the open doorway and down the stairs.
Ram held out his hand. “After you.”
Demir wanted to rip his claws through Ram’s jugular, but instead, he marched down the staircase.
The decrepit wood creaked under his feet. Cobwebs blew between the railings as a gust of wind pushed him onward. With each step, the room and all its contents became more visible.
A workbench filled with bottles and lab equipment hugged the closest wall. Scattered in the corners, old garden tools and equipment lay against rickety shelving. The smell of moist, recently unearthed soil intensified, and a large hollowed out section of the basement came into view. An old, empty table top, the legs removed, took up the majority of space. Four shackles, one attached to each corner, sat on top of the wood.
Ram shoved Demir over the last few steps, tripping him at the ankle. Demir rolled on the dirt, but landed on his feet.
“You see this table? It’s for you…if you fail me.” The smile on Ram’s face lit up, eagerness etched in the fine lines. “For your sake, you better succeed. On second thought…I’d be just as happy to see you fail.”
Jakar selected a nail from the workbench and twirled the small implement between his fingers. “What’s he going to do for us? Besides cause trouble.”
Demir agreed. He’d cause trouble if he got the chance.
Punch Jakar.
The command was firm, insistent, and not something he could ignore. Demir fisted his hand and hit Jakar on the jaw. At the flesh on flesh contact, a burst of energy sent a thrill of enjoyment into his heart. The small bit of satisfaction eased the ache in his chest, but it was merely a drop of retribution for losing Aramie.
Jakar’s tongue snapped at Demir’s shoulder, but Ram blocked it with his arm.
“That’s quite enough. I figured you’d rather enjoy the demonstration. My bad.” Ram snickered.
Blood dripped from Jakar’s nose onto the floor. The dirt soaked up the blood, leaving a red stain. He grabbed a rag from the countertop and wiped at the injury.
Ram placed his finger over his lips and whispered. “I can control what he does.”
Jakar’s body shook, his hand clenched tight around the towel. “Yesssss…noted, but how?”
“Good question. Maybe it’s because we transformed into their likeness.” Ram rubbed his chin and stared at Demir. “I bit him, too. Could that be related?” He focused his gaze on Jakar. “We’ll try again. Tell the brood next time we encounter another Lemurian, don’t inject enough venom to kill, only to stun.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Jakar nodded and pointed toward Demir. “What are your plans with him?”
Ram chuckled. “We’ll send our good buddy Demir back to the Keep as an assassin…to kill Noeh.”
No. Demir couldn’t let that happen. Once, he’d wanted the king dead, now, he’d honor his commitment to the Stiyaha leader. Hatred over what they planned boiled inside. He tried to extend a claw, but his fingernail wouldn’t cooperate.
One side of Ram’s mouth quirked into a grin. “Open a portal.”
Demir fought against the bonds, straining with all his might, but he sent out a call. Rin. Rin. Open a portal for me. Demir’s stomach tightened like a giant coil, reminding him of when he was in his coma. Unable to move, he’d thought that was the worst thing he’d ever endured. He’d been so wrong.
Nothing. No response.
Try again. A pain in his head made Demir wince. He concentrated and sent out another request.
The Keep senses y’er with the enemy. Entry not granted, ya mangy cat. Demir wanted to laugh at Rin’s taunt, relief flooding his system, but Ram clamped down on his spirit, squashing the brief flash of victory.
Ram fisted his hand so hard his knuckles cracked. The edge of his lip twitched. “Do you know another way into the Keep?”
“The Keep recalibrated the manual entrances after the last battle. Other than the portals, I don’t know another way in.” Thank the gods for small miracles. Demir appreciated the Keep’s ability to protect her inhabitants, now more than ever.
“Well, then, you are of little use to me…except as a toy.” Ram glanced at the table and returned his attention to Demir. Another smile, this one more evil than the last, broke across his face. “Strip and lay face down on the table. You’ll wear the chains, just in case. I can control you, but why take chances?”
Demir’s gaze wandered to the shackles. Ram’s reputation preceded him, and Demir had no doubt
he’d be tortured. A part of him didn’t care. After killing Aramie, the punishment was justified. He prayed death would be swift.
His shoes were the first to go. He made quick work of his pants and shirt. Naked in front of Ram and Jakar, he felt as exposed as ever. He’d endured plenty of torment at his father’s hands. He ground his teeth as a wave of anger roiled in his gut. This would be another lesson in humility and prove he was weak once again. Demir headed for the table and lay down, spread eagle.
Ram inhaled. With his finger, he traced a long trail from Demir’s back and over his buttocks. “My, my. You’ve got some worthy scars there, boy.” The chains rattled as they bound the shackles to Demir’s wrists and ankles. His skin burned along the edge of his bite mark, fogging his brain. Ram whispered in Demir’s ear. “We’ll give you a few more to add to the collection.”
Demir’s cat strained to break free, causing a frenzy in his head. One image replayed in his mind—Aramie’s face as she exhaled her last breath.
Chapter Forty
The dampness in the lower levels of the Keep crept into Aramie’s lungs. The heaviness made her pant. Hundreds of feet underground, the walls closed in around her. She placed her hand against the wet rock for stability and rubbed her eyelids. Rushing water sounded like a torrent, but when she opened her eyes, only a small rivulet ran along the path.
There was a reason the Strong room was here—to torture anyone unlucky enough to be put there. Aramie pushed away from the wall and straightened her shoulders. The clumping of her shoes preceded her down the corridor.
“Cat. I can smell you from here.” Mauree’s taunt echoed from her cell.
Aramie ground her teeth. She wouldn’t give Mauree the satisfaction of letting her know she’d hit a nerve. “I’d think you’d be nicer to visitors, since you don’t get any.”
A soft chuckle filtered through the bars.
Aramie’s hackles rose on the back of her neck. Carved within the rock, the walls and ceilings of the dingy cell were musty and damp. The only means of entrance or exit—through the door made of iron bars.
Mauree, the lone inhabitant in the cell wore a tight skirt slit up the side, exposing her long slender legs. Her bare shoulder poked through the rip in her shirt. Short, blond hair hung in strings around her face, unwashed and unkempt. Pale, blue eyes reflected the meager light, intelligence and madness evident in their shine.
“What brings you to my humble abode, cat? I’d offer you some milk,” she glanced around and shrugged her shoulders, “but, as you can see, I’m fresh out.”
“I’m not here to play games with you.” Aramie’s jaw ached from her clenched teeth. “Where’s Ram’s hideout?”
Mauree’s burst of laughter raced down the hallway, as if it could escape its owner. “Please…you’re so funny.” With cool abruptness, her laughter stopped. “Forget it.” She tsked and flicked an imaginary piece of dirt from her arm.
Aramie grabbed the bars, twisting her hands on the smooth, hard metal. “Your choice, easy way or—”
“Others have tried and failed. What makes you think I’ll tell you?” The female’s arrogance knew no bounds.
Mauree stood and stretched. A book lay on her cot. The title Basic Self-Defense made Aramie smirk.
Aramie raised an eyebrow. “You’ll tell me, one way or another.”
“Go find something else to do.” Mauree waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “You’re bothering me.”
Aramie trailed her fingers over the bars, assessing the space between them. Made for Stiyaha, they were several inches apart. That would do. Aramie glared at Mauree and raised her lip, exposing one sharp, pointed fang. “I’ll be right back.”
Mauree’s eyebrows creased, and a glimpse of uncertainty crossed her face. “Wait. Where are you going? Please don’t leave me here alone. I was so enjoying our conversation.”
Aramie stood out of Mauree’s view and changed into her panther. The idea of giving this female a close up view of her “cat” sent a thrill down her back. Aramie’s muscles bunched under her skin as she prowled back down the hallway.
She growled, and the warning sent a flash of adrenaline through her body. Pacing in front of the bars, she made sure Mauree got a good, long look at her firm muscles.
Mauree grabbed the iron and pressed her face against the bars. With a quick inhale, she opened her mouth and spit.
Wetness coated Aramie’s fur on her shoulder. The stench of eggs and bad breath filtered into her sensitive nose.
Grrrrr. Aramie bared her fangs.
Mauree laughed and sat in her rickety chair. “Strut all you want, cat. You can’t touch me in here.”
Mauree was wrong about that. Aramie rubbed the metal with her nose, and the scent of iron and age replaced Mauree’s stench. With a bit of effort, Aramie pushed her head and shoulders between the bars, all the time keeping eye contact with her target.
“No…” Mauree’s eyes widened. She stood and the crash of the chair against the stone floor echoed into the hallway. With a firm grasp, she picked up the chair, using the furniture as a barrier. “Stay back.”
Aramie squeezed her entire body through the bars and lunged at Mauree, knocking her down. The chair flew through the air, hit the wall, and broke apart. Mauree kicked out, landing a foot on Aramie’s shoulder.
Aramie batted at Mauree, careful to keep her claws retracted. As much as she didn’t like the female, she didn’t want to hurt her, just get the necessary information. Mauree gripped her shoulder and even through the fur, her nails dug into her skin. The slight pinch was more of an irritation than anything else.
Aramie pushed forward, pinning the larger Stiyaha under her. She clamped her jaw around Mauree’s throat, but didn’t bite.
Mauree stilled beneath her.
Grrrrrrr.
“Kill me and you won’t get the information you seek,” Mauree hissed.
Aramie tightened her jaw, pinching the irritating female’s skin between her teeth. Blood trickled over Mauree’s neck. The Stiyaha female kicked and punched, but Aramie had her pinned tight. Mauree stopped her attack, her body tense.
Grrrrrr. The guttural sound reverberated in Aramie’s throat.
Mauree swallowed. Her shallow breaths sounded loud in the enclosed space. “Let me go.”
Aramie held her ground.
Several seconds ticked by, the two locked together, neither giving way. Finally, Mauree relaxed. “Fine. I don’t know his exact location, but I overheard Jakar mention a farmhouse he was interested in…somewhere off Shadybrook Road. It’s on the east side of Mt. Hood, near the outskirts of Tygh Valley. The place is white, with a picket fence.”
Aramie released Mauree and squeezed through the bars before the deranged female could come after her. With the needed information, she raced down the corridor. I’m coming, Demir.
Chapter Forty-One
Tanen adjusted his collar, straightening the folds to perfection. As he walked into the Grand Hall, he scanned the crowd in line for the evening repast. These were the early birds, the ones who liked to get in and get out before the masses really filled up the place. Not that there were many Stiyaha left anymore, not since the great scourge, but with the addition of the Panthera and Dren, mealtime was a bit crowded most evenings.
The scent of fresh basil and garlic bread filled the air. His mouth watered in anticipation. He snagged a plate and stood in line. I shouldn’t be here. A bite of regret landed in the pit of his stomach. Avoiding his responsibility was so unlike him, but he couldn’t bring himself to visit Mauree and relay her death sentence. Not that he cared about her, per se, but the idea of having a hand in her death didn’t sit well with him. Mealtime was a valid excuse.
He raised his chin, pinning his shoulders back. He was Noeh’s council leader and had the right to enforce and dictate the law in his own manner. She’d have to wait until after he’d eaten.
He dumped a spoonful of peas onto his plate and a few raced to the edge. An image of Mauree’s head rolling
across the floor flashed through his mind. To think of her execution made the ball in his gut harden, flaring his heartburn.
His appetite deserted him.
He left the plate on the table and turned to leave.
“Tanen!”
The muscles in his shoulders tensed. Gaetan hobbled toward him, his deformed leg bulging out to the side with each step. His cane tapped along the stone floor, the rapping sound working its way into Tanen’s brain like a pick.
Tanen put on his best smile. “Gaetan, what can I do for you?”
The haelen placed his hand on Tanen’s shoulder. “I…I need a favor.”
Interesting. Gaetan never asked for a favor. Tanen leaned toward the old male. “How can I be of service to you?”
“I left my healing bag in Noeh’s Throne room.” Gaetan winced and rubbed his knee. “I’d go back for it, but I’m not having one of my better evenings.”
“Worry not. I’ll retrieve your satchel.” He studied the old male. For Gaetan to forget his medicines was unusual, to say the least. “Shall I bring it here…or?”
Gaetan rubbed his brow. “Leave it in the infirmary, on the counter next to the elixirs.” His attention focused on Tanen. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Perhaps you should sit.” Tanen pulled a chair out from a nearby table. “Here, please.”
“Thanks.” Gaetan plopped more than sat in the wooden chair. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. He exhaled. “Ah, much better.”
Tanen scrutinized him. “Maybe some rest—”
Gaetan raised his hand. “I’m fine.” His eyes narrowed and a glint of tension raced across his features.
Tanen leaned back. “Ok, well, I’m on my way out.” He nodded in respect and left the old male to deal with his own issues.
A slight breeze ruffled his hair, and he smoothed the stray strands back into place. His soft-soled shoes squeaked against the stone, but the familiar sound didn’t ease his tension. He still needed to deliver the news to Mauree. His jaw clenched along with his fist. He didn’t want to think too hard about why that bothered him, so he concentrated on Gaetan’s request.