by Alison Aimes
She’d failed.
“Not so fast, my dear jewel.” Her lungs burned as the towel’s grip around her throat tightened and she was forced to her knees. “I do like a little fight, but our games have come to an end.”
A knee slammed into her back. The towel’s grip around her throat disappeared.
Her palms hit the carpet as air flooded back into her lungs.
A boot landed on her back pressing her into the floor. “Don’t worry, daughter. I have no intention of killing you—or ruining that beautiful face.” The tip of the towel traced down her spine. “I want to be able to see your eyes when I finally prove to whom you belong. All the rest of your punishments will occur below the face.”
He drew back the towel like a whip.
Someone pounded on the door.
“What is it?” Whetherton’s voice was eerily calm.
“Help—”
He cut off her cry with a vicious kick to her rib. “Quiet or I will silence you more effectively.”
“High Executive,” came a familiar, indifferent voice from the other side, “forgive the interruption, but your guests have arrived.”
Whetherton jerked in surprise, his heel grinding into her hip. She fought to keep from whimpering.
“Already? I didn’t expect them for at least another hour.” He sighed. “Fine. They’re the last votes I need to become High Chancellor. Show them to the study, Collins. I will be down shortly.”
“Very well, sir.”
Her stepfather lifted his boot.
Numb, wobbly, she propelled herself backward, out of reach.
He watched her crawl back with satisfaction in his eyes. “Breaking you will be my greatest pleasure yet.”
He stepped over the wet, crumpled towel and used his key to unlock the door. “I expect you to behave while I am out. Otherwise, I will be forced to send Collins to deal with you. He’s a little resentful after all those shopping trips, and not as tenderhearted as I.”
With his free hand, he smoothed down his hair. “Sadly, I have to deal with these shareholders—and some unfinished business. Something related to a certain half-breed. I don’t think he’ll like it much, but I will.”
“No!” She shot to her feet.
“Oh, yes. You never should have involved him, Aurora.”
“He has nothing to do with you and me. Please. I will go with you anywhere. L-let you do anything. Just—”
“Soon that will be more than true.” A sneer twisted her stepfather’s features. “I would advise you to save your begging until then. You’ll need it. His fate is already set. I will explain what I’ve done when I return.” He offered her a mock bow. “And, of course, we will finish your lesson.”
He slammed the door behind him.
The sickening click of the lock came next.
A part of her wanted to curl into herself and sob for hours. Instead, she raced to the door to decode the exit pad. No luck. Next, she wrenched at the knob.
The damn metal shook from the force of her tugs, but did not budge.
He couldn’t hurt DaKar. She had to warn him.
She pounded on the door. “Cecilia? Anyone? Help! Help!” She kept up her shouts for several minutes. Finally, she accepted the truth. No one was coming.
“Cowards!” she screamed. “You are all cowards.”
Frantic, she ran to her window. Whetherton had sealed it before she’d moved in, but she didn’t let that stop her now. She yanked at the ledge, scraping her knuckles and tearing her nails. Nothing. She pushed and pulled. Sweat poured down her back. Her arms trembled from exertion. The window remained locked.
Damn it. She swung away, scanning the room while trying to catch her breath. “There has to be a way.”
Her eyes lit on her chair. Perhaps if she had more leverage? She half pushed, half carried the chair over to the window and climbed on top. No luck. The window was sealed tight.
She’d have to break it, but the chair was too big and heavy. She’d never be able to swing it properly. The lamp she’d wanted to use on Whetherton’s skull was shattered.
The washbasin.
She was across the room and back within seconds with her new weapon in hand. She raised the basin above her head and let it fall against the window. It didn’t shatter, but a small crack appeared.
Hope surged through her.
She could do this. She could warn DaKar. His hate now seemed such a small consequence for keeping him safe.
She raised the basin once more.
The door crashed open.
She whirled around. Cold, dark eyes and a furious expression hurtled toward her, fists raised.
Collins!
She threw the basin. It bounced off his shoulder.
He kept coming.
Pain exploded at her temple. Everything went dark.
36
“Did you find it yet, Rhagghest?” DaKar sealed the last of his shirt seams and reached for his gloves. Early morning had come and gone by the time he and Grayson finished their plans, and he was anxious to be on his way. “I am sure I left it somewhere by the desk. I have a vivid memory of tossing it there a few lunar rotations ago.”
“No, sir.” A frowning Rhagghest stood by the front door. “I’m sorry. I’ve examined every bit of the room for the ring, and I will do so again. I apologize for the delay.”
“Not your fault. Grown men should know better than to toss their property around without care.” He pulled his jacket on. “Don’t worry, I am sure it will turn up in time for the legitimacy ceremony.”
He hurried down the back steps toward the garage.
“You’re off then?” Tom pushed back from the open hood of one of the floaters, a streak of grease on his cheek, a wrench in his hand. Since their last misadventure, DaKar had done his best to subtly assign the older male closer-to-home duties while trying not to hurt his pride.
“Yes.” DaKar paused. He’d told no one of his initial plan for the title and estates besides Grayson, and yet something heavy settled in his gut when he looked at Tom. It felt a lot like guilt.
“Tom, I’m staying.” The man’s scowl made him realize he needed to clarify. “Once this is over, I’ll be putting roots down here. Half-time, at least. I’m entering into a breeding contract with Lady Aurora.”
“As is proper. Congratulations. It will be a good match.” Wrench tapping against his palm, the older male only appeared more confused as the silence stretched.
“Yes…” DaKar gave himself an internal forehead smack and told himself to act like the Warlord he was. “But that isn’t what I initially intended and it impacts you.”
Understanding dawned and the creases on the older man’s faces deepened as his lips pressed together. “You intended to come, set things to right, sell the place, and never look back.”
Surprise slammed through DaKar. “I hadn’t realized I was so obvious.”
“Not to most, but I knew you when you were young.” Shrewd eyes scrutinized him. “You might have grown in size and stature, but I know what kind of heart beats beneath that chest.”
DaKar barely restrained the growl. Had he just been insulted?
“I don’t want the money.” Tom’s tone was heavy with the same defiance as when he’d stood up to DaKar’s stepmother all those planetary rotations ago.
Another shock. For an older guy, Tom was pulling no punches.
“Oh, yes, I suspected that part of your plan as well.” Tom shook the wrench like a censorious finger. “You’re a good man, DaKar. Doesn’t matter who your father was. You had honor as a boy, you do as a man.”
DaKar’s spine snapped straight, his chest suddenly tight. Old wounds knitting closed for good. He far preferred this man’s approval over that of the worthless shanus who’d been his sire.
“I… Thank you, Tom. That means more to me than I can say.” He cleared his throat. “But even though I’m staying, I will still give you and each servant the share they would have gotten if I’d sold the estates. You’ll b
e able to travel. Start a new life for yourself wherever you want. I’ve enough to do that for each of you, so don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried—and that’s kind, but I won’t be leaving either way.” Tom shuffled his shiny shoes in the dirt. “As long as you’ll have me, I’m staying right here. I don’t want to go. I’d travel to a new world, and do what? Gain a new skill at my age? Meet new people? I’m old and tired. This is where my friends and family are. This is where your family will be. With Lady Aurora. She’s a good female and a good match for you, and I’m looking forward to this estate becoming not just a set of walls and rooms, but a home.” He glanced over his shoulder at the estate, as if he could see something DaKar couldn’t. “I’d far rather stay here and watch you become the father, husband, and Executive your sire never was.”
The man’s faith in him touched and awed him. “I’d like that as well.”
“Then, let’s get to it.” Tom gestured toward the garage. “I know single floaters move faster, so how about I get your favorite ready? You’ve got a name to clear and a female to catch.”
“Done.” Relieved and energized, DaKar clapped the male on the back and started forward once more.
He was past ready to meet up with Grayson and the investigators. They’d already headed to the pawnbroker’s to set up surveillance, but he’d stayed behind to dash off a letter to the judge in charge of his case, apprising him of the latest discoveries.
All was falling into place.
“Warlord Volkan!”
He turned in the direction of the shout.
The investigator he’d hired, a middle aged, red-haired Earther with a bushy beard and stout body, raced toward him from the house, his hands waving in the air.
He hurried to intercept the man, rushing back up the stairs and leaving Tom in his wake. “What’s happened?”
“Sent by Grayson…” The man’s words came out in pants as he bent at the knees, hands on his thighs. “The pawnbroker Denard… is… dead.”
“Shanus!” DaKar slammed his fist into his palm. “Without him as a witness, proving my innocence will be more difficult.”
The investigator pushed himself upright. “We went to stake out the store…” he sucked down another deep breath, his words growing less choppy, “and discovered him dying from a knife wound. His place tossed.” The male’s lips pressed tight. “We were lucky we arrived when we did. Any later and he would have taken all his secrets to the grave.”
“What secrets? Did he name the murderer?”
“No. He didn’t recognize the man who knifed him, but the job looked pretty clean.”
He studied the messenger. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
This time, the deep breath the investigator sucked down seemed to be less about seizing air and more about bracing himself. “Grayson said you might want to sit down…or hand me your weapon.”
DaKar’s low growl had the male shuffling back a few feet. “Tell me.”
“Just remember, I’m only the messenger.” Sympathy flashed in the other male’s stare. “Before he died, Denard named the thief. A female by the name of Lady Aurora Blake.”
The Earth pitched to the side and remained off kilter. A strange buzzing sounded in DaKar’s ears.
“The man was lying.”
The investigator cocked his head, his expression doubtful. “Denard managed to reel off a fairly specific description. Golden hair, green eyes, a real looker. Not easy to forget or confuse. Plus, Grayson checked with the surrounding shops. After much cajoling, a couple shopkeepers admitted Lady Aurora was a frequent client. It’s not ironclad proof, but it is convincing. How she connects to the murderer is still unknown. She’s too small to have beaten those women, but there’s likely some connection.”
Memories flashed through DaKar’s brain. Her frequent wanderings. Her flimsy explanations. Her insistence on his innocence. Her offer to help him with his investigation. The dark swirl of emotion that had always pulsed from her to him, no matter how golden the soul ties blazing between them.
His body quaked.
The memory of the first time he’d seen her crashed over him. She’d been in the private wing of the Everly’s home. The same night the necklace had disappeared. The same night his name was first linked with the thefts.
He jerked as if he’d taken a blow. He locked his knees to remain standing.
He’d known she had her secrets, but he’d never expected this.
No wonder she’d been so insistent he wasn’t the thief. She’d known who the real thief was all along.
Instinctively, his hand plowed through his hair. It went through without a snag.
He threw back his head and howled. His horns snapped straight. His chest expanding in size as his veins popped and rage poured through his blood.
She’d likely stolen his ring as well.
The golden ties around his chest pulled tight, making it hard to breathe.
“S-sir?” The glassy whites of the other male’s eyes glistened with terror. “Grayson said to tell you he will take care of apprehending the female and—”
“Retrieve Grayson and go back to your office. I will handle the female.”
“But shouldn’t the constable—”
“I will take care of the situation.”
“Yes, of course.” The investigator took another step back and bowed. “I’ll relay your instructions to Executive Grayson. Good day.”
DaKar didn’t move. He didn’t think he could. Not without shattering or destroying everything in his path.
She lied to him. And kept on lying. Despite their connection. Despite the soul-bond.
The silence was sharp. The air painful. His joints ached and his body weighed a stone. Even his father’s beatings had not left him this ravaged. He took a shuddering breath and tried to think beyond the roar of fury reverberating through his brain.
He wanted to tear her apart, to make her suffer, to scream her guilt to the world.
But he wouldn’t.
She’d deceived him, ripped him apart, but he would still show mercy.
He’d learn who else was involved, and then he’d figure out how much he was willing to help her.
If there was a way to fix this, he would. He was a damn fighter and he did not give up easily.
Still, his legs dragged as he started back toward the garage.
A faint scraping sound echoed at the back of his consciousness.
Something was off. His gut blared a warning as he entered the drafty space large enough for four large transpo units and several smaller sleek floaters.
The first attack came from the left. A masked man shot from behind his single-seater floater, leaping over Tom’s crumpled body, knife raised.
DaKar dodged right, only to spin left at the sense of another presence behind him. The whoosh of air at his back proved him right.
He faced them, only to watch as eight more crept from behind the other floaters and joined the first two. Their eyes were flat and cold. Their knives and blasters gleamed brightly.
It was almost a relief to have an outlet for his rage.
“Who sent you?”
One of them smiled coldly. “We’re easy to get a hold of provided you know the right people.” His brash accent marked him as one of the dome Underworld.
“I have to warn you, I’m getting tired of being attacked and threatened.” DaKar drew his dagger. The Qatarishel blade was only meant to be used during tests of honor, but if there was ever a time when his character was under siege it was now.
“Luckily, you won’t have to worry about that much longer,” said the smallest of the group.
“Cocky, aren’t you?”
The man shrugged. “There are ten of us and one of you.”
“I’ve gone up against worse.”
He’d have Peller’s head for this. If it was, indeed, Peller’s doing… No, he wouldn’t let himself consider any other alternative.
Without another word, he launched forward, do
dging a blaster shot with ease as he barreled into his chatty friend and swept out his foot, knocking the male next to him into the others, sending them all stumbling.
He pounded his target’s vulnerable throat. The male staggered backward before slamming into the ground. Eyes closed, he lay still.
DaKar danced out of reach. “One down, nine to go.”
With a cry of fury, they ran at him.
Rage pounding in his veins, he unleashed the savage within. Horns snapping straight, his vision became a red haze as bones cracked and blood splattered, covering him, his blade, and the ground.
He tossed bodies aside until there was only one male left, the one who’d first spoken.
They stared at each other across the strewn bodies.
“Tell me your employer’s name and I’ll let you live.”
The sole survivor gripped his blaster tighter. “Frack you, half-breed. It will be you who dies.” His lips curled upward in a smirk. “Lady Aurora bids you farewell.”
With a roar, DaKar leapt, covering the distance in the blink of an eye, plunging his dagger into the killer’s heart, the man’s final words echoing in his head.
Not Peller, but Aurora.
He pressed his hand to his chest—only now aware that the bastard he’d just killed had managed to get in a shot as well. Blood dripped from between his hands.
She’d tried to have him killed.
The golden soul ties snaking through him turned black as night. He visualized ripping them out by their roots, bloody strand by bloody strand, until all that was left were the open dirty holes where something beautiful had once lived.
Not even bothering to step over the bodies in his way, he marched toward Tom, relieved to see the male’s thin chest still rose up and down.
The élithe had always called him a savage.
But they had no idea what that truly meant.
Aurora had tried to take everything from him: his title, his estates, his seat, his reputation, his chance for legitimacy, his self-respect, his heart and soul, his very life.
He would show her what a true monster was like.
37