Bloodstains and Bitemarks

by Kyra Quinn

  But it also makes my job a lot more complicated. Unlike humans, regular knives and guns do nothing to stop monsters. Werewolves require bullets and blades made with pure silver. Vampires die fastest when you shove a stake of blessed wood through their chests, but decapitation will suffice in a pinch. And demons—normal demons, anyway—turn to smoke and disappear when struck with blades bathed in holy water or bullets enchanted with angel dust. But Kane didn’t so much as flinch when I aimed the Exorcist at his chest.

  I never made it far enough into my training to learn what it takes to kill a Knight of Hell. Or what sort of special demon Kane and Dagon are. I imagine they’re still weak to holy water and protection sigils, but I have no way to test this theory. Unless I pull Kane’s secrets out of him, I’m powerless in his grasp.

  With no way to measure time, I drift in and out of sleep.

  Three sharp knocks appear at the door. The lock clicks and the door opens. Kane steps into the room. He’s changed out of the suit from before, now dressed in a pair of faded black jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt. His left hand clutches a leather whip with braided tendrils knotted at the ends.

  “You did well tonight, pet. Almost perfect.”

  If he calls me ‘pet’ one more time, I’ll rip his throat out with my teeth. “Almost?”

  “You held your tongue well, and the dress worked its magic, but you forgot the rules.” A sadistic smile tugs at his mouth. “I keep my word, and your reward is coming. But your discipline will come first. Spare the rod, spoil the slave.”

  My mouth falls open. I spent less than five minutes in the Knights’ presence. Not even enough time to screw anything up. Is he toying with me? Testing me?

  “Strip.” He gestures at my dress with the handle of his whip. “Your dress is thin, but I want you to experience the full impact of your mistake.”

  I tilt my chin and cross my arms over my chest, defiant. “What mistake? If I’d done anything to step out of line, you would have reveled in punishing me in front of them.”

  Kane shakes his head. “Rule number three, love. I ordered you to kneel at my feet when you entered the room. Had you listened, Lilith would have never lowered herself enough to bother you.”

  Heat rushes into my face. With Arachne parading me around on a leash like a rescued mutt, I’d completely forgotten Kane’s order to kneel after he introduced me to his employers. I don’t know if I believe it would have done anything to deter Lilith from harassing me, but it might have spared me from Kane.

  “That’s not fair,” I sputter, my voice weak.

  “It is. You agreed to the rules, and you didn’t follow them. I may be a demon, but I don’t take well to people breaking their word. We may lie to the rest of the world and play their games, but we never lie to each other in this house. Now strip. The more you resist me, the worse you will suffer.”

  I hesitate, my body suddenly stone. He isn’t doing this to teach me a lesson. It isn’t about whether I deserve it. The only interests he cares about are his own. Kane wants to break me because it pleases him.

  Out of excuses, there’s nothing left to do but surrender. I slide the thin straps down my shoulder and roll the dress off my body until a puddle of fabric encircles my feet. A shiny black leather bra with a corset tie in the front squishes my breasts together. Three threadlike silver chains cross over the front, meeting in the center of my bust and trailing into the bra. The matching panties also lace up the center, with more braids of silver adorning each hip.

  Kane’s tongue slides over his lips as he drinks me in. His eyes drift from the top of my head to my feet, stopping at the too-high heels Arachne forced my feet into. His posture stiffens, and I can’t tell if he wants to beat me or force me onto the bed.

  “Now the rest of it,” he says, voice husky. “Including the hair.”

  My hands tremble as I strip off the last thin layers of fabric separating my body from Kane’s ravenous gaze. When there’s nothing left to hide beneath, I unclasp my hair and hide the burn in my cheeks behind loose waves.

  “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now kneel before me and accept your punishment. Let it serve as a warning about what sort of reprisal those who lie or double-cross us face.”

  I shuffle forward, my gaze pinned on the ground, so he won’t notice the tears burning my eyes. It takes every ounce of self-control I’m capable of not to scream at him to take his hypocrisy and shove it up his ass. How dare he preach to me about loyalty and honesty after what he’s done? He’s shown me neither since the day we met.

  A few inches from where he stands, I drop to my knees on the carpet and lower my head towards the ground. I press my eyes closed and will my consciousness to separate and drift away from my physical body. If there’s anything I’ve learned between my colorful childhood and the years I’ve spent with the hunt, it’s how to dissociate before the pain kicks in.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he grunts, but his voice sounds far away. “You still have a movie to star in later.”

  My mouth opens to remind him the Dark Hunt does not negotiate with man or monster, but a strangled cry crawls from my throat as he brings the whip down against my back with a flick of his wrist. Pain splits through me as if the ends of the whip were made from shards of glass. I struggle for air, my body shaking.

  Kane’s eyes glitter with savage pleasure. “Two more. To ensure you don’t forget this lesson anytime soon.”

  “No—”

  He doesn’t let me finish. The whip strikes against my back again, the pain more intense this time as the knotted tips break skin. Warm droplets of blood slide down my back and onto my legs. I remain folded in front of Kane’s feet, my face pressed against the carpet until the fibers burrow into my forehead. If I lift my gaze to look at him, I’m worried I’ll lose all control and attack him.

  “It’s okay if you need to scream, pet,” he taunts me. “Every room on the upper floor of this house is soundproofed. Dagon and I value our privacy.”

  “Fuck you,” I snarl, unable to stop the words from crossing my lips. Even when I know better, I can’t seem to stop myself from lashing out at him.

  He gives a soft tsk. “Watch your tongue or I might find myself tempted to carve it from your mouth.”

  A shiver spreads through me. I have no trouble believing Kane can make good on every threat he delivers. There’s a massive empty chasm in his chest in place of a heart.

  He delivers the last lash, and I can’t stop the animalistic scream that tears from me. My plan to disassociate from the pain has failed wholeheartedly. My back is on fire, even the parts of it his whip never grazed. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, but my chest feels empty. How could I have thought I stood a chance against Kane? He has no interest in anything but violence and victory. All he cares about is using me for his own satisfaction in whatever fucked up way he pleases.

  His fingers drop to rub my hair. “That’s a good girl, pet. It’s over now. I’ll draw you a bath.”

  His feet move away from me and cross towards the bathroom, but I don’t rise. I’m not convinced I can or want to. With the wounds his blows tore open, scalding water sounds more painful than relaxing. Especially if Kane has any intention of staying close while I bathe.

  The water to the garden tub sputters to life, splashing against the porcelain. I suck in a sharp breath, torn between slapping him and thanking him. It’s a gorgeous display, but it’s nowhere near enough to make up for everything he’s done. I cringe picturing the way the water will sting the fresh wounds he left on me. I can’t tell if he’s trying to romance me or torture me. Knowing Kane, both.

  “It takes a while to fill,” Kane’s voice appears from the doorway to the bathroom. “Take your time getting up.”

  “How kind of you,” I snarl. “A demon and a gentleman.”

  He flashes me an infuriatingly confident smile. “So nice of you to notice.”

  If I had any strength left in my body, I don’t know if I’d be able to stop myself from leaping fr
om the floor and wiping the smug smirk from his face. But the lack of food and physical abuse has left my body frail. Kane has to scoop down and wrap his arm around me, helping me to my feet. My knees quiver as he leads me into the steamy bathroom with an arm around my waist to support my weight.

  Even in my fragile condition, it’s difficult to resist the urge to push him off me. My throat is raspy as I say, “You can’t play both the hero and the villain, you know.”

  The bath is still running as he guides me towards the mouth of the tub. Rose petals float on the water’s surface, and a floral scent perfumes the water. It’s so beautiful, I almost can’t believe he put it together himself.

  The sudden display of kindness only irritates me more. Kane would assume I’m the same stupid girl he dazzled two years ago with nothing more than a motorcycle and a bit of cheeky conversation. He expects me to fall at his feet and thank him. But the ugliness inside of him pollutes anything beautiful he touches.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he answers, voice stiff.

  I stop in front of the bathtub and press my hands to his cheeks, forcing him to look me in the eye. It’s a bold move, but I don’t care. He’ll find a reason to hit me no matter how well I try to behave myself.

  “You do,” I whisper, bringing my face next to his. “But it won’t work. I’m not fooled by your sporadic moments of kindness because I see them for what they are: manipulation. You committed yourself to the villain role the night you killed my mother. Why pretend otherwise?”

  Kane shakes his head. I wait for him to argue, but he leans over and cuts off the water without meeting my gaze. “In.”

  “But—”

  “I didn’t stammer, pet. Get in the damn bath before the water turns cold.”

  I’d rather drink a bottle of bleach than wash myself in front of him. But maybe that’s what he’s counting on. Another excuse to punish me. Maybe this is all an additional part of Kane’s twisted plans to secure a victory for the Knights in the war.

  But I have no proof to confirm my spiraling thoughts. No one will betray Kane from inside his own lair. Whatever he has planned for me, the only actual option is to sit around and take it until he tires of me or meets someone else. Someone not eager to kill him.

  With a grunt of resignation, I climb up the wide stone steps and lower myself into the bath. The water scalds my skin, burning the gashes in my skin until I’m forced to grit my teeth to trap a cry of pain inside my mouth. Why did I trust anything offered to me by Kane?

  “I like this look for you,” he says, either indifferent or oblivious to my discomfort. “My marks on your skin. It’s more beautiful than the sunset next to the sea.”

  I grit my teeth and swallow the venom stinging my throat. If I want him to suffer the same way I am now, I need to win his trust. But I can’t bring myself to swallow my pride enough to thank him for what he’s done.

  He comes to stand behind me, his fingers finding their way into my hair. Massaging shampoo into my tangled locks, he brings his mouth inches from my ear. “I understand why you hate me. If I believed someone murdered my family, I imagine I wouldn’t rest until I tore their still-beating heart from their chest.”

  My body turns to stone. “Why are you bringing this up now?”

  He remains silent for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “Because you deserve to hear the truth from my lips. Dagon mentioned speaking with you about it, but that’s not enough. I want to look you in the eyes when I say this.”

  He appears next to me, reaching into the water to grip my hand. With the full heat of his gaze locked on me, he continues, “I did not kill Alana Gray, nor did I ever make a move against her.”

  The water splashes as I jerk my hand out of his grasp. “Liar. I saw you, Kane. You were there, covered in her blood.”

  “Yes. Because I tried to save her.” Kane sinks to sit on the top step of the bathtub. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

  If only I could forget. “What about it?”

  “We didn’t bump into each other by coincidence, pet. I came hoping to find your mother. The Dark Hunt found her first.”

  I blink, not sure I’ve heard him correctly. “No. You misheard, or—”

  “Your mother may have resigned her formal place within the coven when she had you, but she never stopped studying and practicing magic. She made a formidable ally and a deadly foe. Her death brings me no joy.”

  He’s lying. It’s what demons do. I shake my head, determined not to let him worm his way into my thoughts. “That doesn’t explain why you were at my house, let alone in her studio. Save us both the stress of listening to your latest stream of bullshit. I’m not buying it.”

  “I didn’t expect you to believe me,” he says, rising to his feet and returning to his place behind me. His hands resume washing my body, his touch lighter than a feather when he cleans my injuries. “It's part of why I never corrected your assumptions about what happened that night. I came to your house because Alana summoned me for help. But by the time I arrived, she was beyond saving. Infernal magic is powerful, but it can’t heal. And not even divine magic can bring back the dead.”

  The pins and needles return, prickling my skin. He’s lying. He must be. “Who else would want my mother dead? She didn’t have an extensive list of enemies.”

  Kane slides his hands around to grip my throat. His pressure is gentle, not enough to complicate my breathing, but my heart flutters anyway. “Think about it, pet. Who do you know that hunts and kills witches for the so-called ‘good of society’?”

  No. I twist out of his grasp, sliding to the other end of the tub. “Bullshit.”

  He shrugs, his wet hands open at his sides. “Believe whatever you like, pet. If it helps you to hate me, I can’t hold that against you. But I am not the one who murdered your mother, nor am I the one who recruited you to join the Dark Hunt. There’s a far more deserving target for your rage.”

  I don’t want to believe him. For the last two years, Zeke has been almost like an older brother to me. He took me under his wing when I had nowhere else to go. He taught me how to protect myself, how to track and kill monsters before they kill innocent humans. The Dark Hunt is the only family I have left. Besides, only an idiot would trust a sociopathic demon’s information. The strange whispers and horrifying nightmares didn’t show until right around the time I met Kane. For all I know, he’s the reason I need Zeke to inject me with some mysterious glowing blue liquid every month.

  “I’ll leave you to dry off and unwind,” Kane says, rising to his feet. “Consider what I’ve told you. The most dangerous enemies are the ones who position themselves in your life as friends.”

  He marches out of the room as a slow smile spreads across my face. For once, I hope he’s right. I’m betting my life on it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kane

  “Our girl did well,” Dagon tells me, passing me a tightly wrapped blunt before lighting his own. “I’m surprised you convinced her to hold her tongue for so long.”

  We sit on the balcony outside Dagon’s bedroom in a pair of identical beige lawn chairs, the least extravagant pieces of furniture my brother owns. Fireflies dance through the midnight sky. The moon hangs high above us, but black shades still cover his eyes. A half-empty bottle of Fireball sits at his feet, the cap long lost.

  But I can’t help the way my jaw tightens hearing Dagon refer to Nadia as “our” girl. Sharing isn’t my best skill. Until the day I’m forced to let her go, Nadia belongs to me and no one else. “She followed almost all of my orders. I gave her a little incentive to remember the fine details next time.”

  “Hours before we film the ransom video for Michael?” A slow smile stretches across his face. “Bold move. I like it. Perhaps her suffering will stir them to action.”

  Unlikely, but I nod anyway. Michael won’t bend his self-righteous moral code for anyone, even someone as helpless and deserving as Nadia. But I’ll let Dagon think I had some grand politi
cal scheme in mind. If he realizes how much I enjoy tormenting our prisoner, he may have reservations about how much time I spend with her. No sense in getting attached to a toy I can’t keep.

  I lean against my chair and press the grape-scented papers between my lips. Lighting the tip and inhaling, I try to decide our next move. Nadia’s willpower is breaking. Every time I issue a command, her snarky retorts bite a little less. Soon she’ll tell me anything I ask. She’ll do whatever it takes to please me. I had her there once, two years prior. Too bad I can’t trick her into falling for me twice. Even if she didn’t blame me for her mother’s murder, she knows I’m a demon. She’s witnessed the levels of depravity I’ll sink to if it helps me secure a victory. She’ll never trust me anywhere near her unless I grind that fiery spirit I’d once admired so much into dust.

  A spark of an idea takes hold of my brain, flying from my lips. “If we break her well enough, we can use her to our advantage. A person on the inside, feeding us their every move, could win the war for the Knights.”

  But Dagon shakes his head, exhaling a thick puff of smoke. “We could never trust her not to flip back to their side and betray us. Moloch will want her disposed of after we’ve extracted the information we need from her.”

  He’s not saying anything I didn’t already suspect myself, but it still boils my blood to hear. Her life means nothing to the Knights of Hell. It’s supposed to mean nothing to me. I knew from the moment Lilith issued the order how this story ends. There’s no way the Knights will allow Nadia to leave her alive. The easiest way to protect our secrets is to eliminate any possible leaks. Especially the mortal kind.

  “What if we didn’t let her leave?”

  Dagon’s face mirrors my inner surprise, but I barrel on. “We’re at war against the only Archangel rumored to rival Lucifer in power. Maybe we can force her to tell us more about how they operate.”