by Lynn Hagen
“He’s not dying,” Panahasi said.
“How do you know?”
The guy opened his eyes and looked at Dillon. “I know.”
That was cryptic as fuck. “So what’s wrong with him?”
Panahasi shook his head. “I can feel animal and man warring with each other.” He stood. “Do you mind if I take some blood? I want to study it and see if I can figure out what was in that potion.”
“Do whatever you have to.”
“Promise me you won’t call upon Christian until I tell you that avenue is needed.”
Dillon nodded. “Just as long as you promise you’ll let me know before…” Dillon swallowed
“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Panahasi held out his hand, and a vial appeared out of thin air. Dillon watched wide-eyed as the vial filled with blood. He hadn’t used a needle to extract it. The guy hadn’t gone anywhere near Max.
“Exactly what are you?” There was no way he was simply the demon leader. There was more to Panahasi. Dillon felt power emanating from the warrior anytime he was around. He’d never questioned the feeling of power before because Dillon simply assumed Panahasi had to be commanding to run the demon realm.
Panahasi winked and walked away, leaving Dillon clueless. The only reason he trusted the man implicitly was the fact that Panahasi was part of the Ultionem—the leaders who presided over the preternatural world.
Dillon opened the door when a soft knock sounded. Werth stood on the other side. “I know this is your call, but I’d think long and hard before you go to Christian.”
Damn shifter hearing. No doubt Werth had heard the entire conversation.
“And talk this over with Max.” His boss walked away.
Dillon rolled his eyes when he heard Newt yelling for Duke to stop growling at Baby Girl. If he kept being a menace, Duke would become an outside dog.
He closed the door and crawled into bed, curling around his mate. Max shifted and whimpered as he turned over and looked at Dillon. “It happened again.”
“I know.” He brushed the hair from Max’s eyes, pulling his small mate into his arms. Dillon wanted to tell Max about his conversation with Panahasi but feared Max would insist on calling Christian, and since the demon leader said Max wasn’t dying, Dillon wanted to wait until the conversation was absolutely necessary.
The vampire blood would clear the drug from Max’s system, but the cost would be life-changing. For now, he held his mate and hoped things didn’t come down to that.
“I love you,” Dillon said.
Max pulled back enough to look Dillon in his eyes. “I love you, too.”
Dillon grinned. “Who’s a good boy?”
Max chuckled. “I am.”
“You got that right.” Dillon pressed a kiss to his mate’s hair, glad Max was in his human form so they could talk.
And they did, until the wee hours of the morning, getting to know each other while petting and kissing. By the time the sun started to rise, Dillon was even more in love with Max than before.
* * * *
Taren twisted the serrated knife in Maltese’s side. “You will take me through the Black River.”
Maltese would rather die than help this piece of shit. He clenched his teeth and breathed heavily, sweat pouring down his scalp as he glared at Taren. “Do your worst, but I’m not taking you there.”
“Why are you so protective of the demon realm?” Taren circled the chair as he tapped the blade of another knife against his palm. “We’re both demons, both considered scum in the warriors’ eyes. We should be on the same team, not bickering with one another.”
“Bickering? Is that what you call this?” Maltese argued. “You beat my ass until my bones break, kidnap me, and are currently torturing me. I would call that more than bickering.”
Taren snarled as he plunged the second knife into Maltese’s left thigh. He screamed as the bastard twisted it. Blood gushed out, and Maltese wasn’t sure how much longer he could last before he passed out.
“I’m not taking you there!”
Not that he held any love for the demon warriors. Taren had been right. They looked at Maltese as scum because he made a living selling potions. He was nothing more than a drug dealer in their eyes, even if that was far from the truth.
He wasn’t claiming to be a saint. There had been things that Maltese had done that were shady as fuck—like how he’d fucked Max for payment—but he’d never had sex with a guy against his will. He might be considered a rank bastard, but he did have morals.
Mostly.
“This is only gonna get worse,” Taren threatened.
Maltese heard something beep.
Taren sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back. I have to get my casserole out of the oven.”
Was this guy for real? He was baking a fucking casserole while he was torturing Maltese?
When Taren walked from the room, Maltese struggled with the ropes binding his arms behind his back. The chair he was seated in scooted around, scraping against the floor as he pulled and twisted his arms but to no avail. Taren might be a powerless prick, but the guy knew how to tie a knot.
Taren returned and smirked. “Now where were we?”
* * * *
“I have a lead on Chuck,” Maverick said when Dillon answered his phone. “I’ve been reviewing the videos for the past several months.”
Dillon frowned. “You keep them that long?” Nero’s must have numerous hard drives and massive archives of the surveillance footage. Dillon wouldn’t want Nero’s job.
“Be lucky I don’t delete any of them,” Maverick said. “Anyway, I realized after reviewing all that shit that I didn’t have to go back that far. A man who seems to fit Chuck’s description, if that’s his real name, was in an alley a few days ago. He was jumped and taken by some thugs. Panahasi identified one of the guys as Taren. I’m sure that name rings a bell with you.”
Dillon cursed. “And no one knows where Taren is holed up.”
“I was able to go through several videos and follow them leaving town, but I lost them after that.”
“Which direction did they go?” Dillon walked out of the room. He didn’t want to disturb Max while he slept. That was all Max seemed to do lately, and although Panahasi said he wasn’t dying, that didn’t stop Dillon from worrying about his mate.
“Toward Desire, but I doubt that’s where he is. My brother has his men keeping watch for Taren and Chuck, and so far, no one has spotted either of them.”
There were a lot of miles between Brac Village and Desire, with a lot of farms where Taren could hide out in a barn, and there were also a lot of abandoned homes, too. For all Dillon knew, Taren could’ve passed Desire and headed toward Pride Pack Valley. There was just too much distance to cover.
“I also alerted Zeus. He’s having his town checked. I sent a few of my guys to check places in between, but—”
“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Dillon said.
“Exactly.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Dillon said.
“I’ll keep you posted.”
“I owe you one.”
“No, you don’t,” Maverick said. “Part of my job is to protect mates. I’m a sucker for the underdog. We’ll find Taren, and when we do, I’ll make him pay for making Max have to take the potion in the first place.”
Maverick would have to get in line. Not only did Dillon want a crack at him but he was pretty sure Panahasi wanted to wring the bastard’s neck.
But what if Taren had never left town? What if he knew about the cameras and let them see him leaving but found a way to circle back without being recorded?
After hanging up with Maverick, Dillon called Vince. “I’ve got a job for you and Jacoby.”
“Lay it on me, bro.”
Dillon smiled. That was why Vince was his best friend. No questions asked when it came to helping him. He told his partner about his conversation with Maverick and then his suspicion.
&nbs
p; “So you think he’s somewhere in town?” Vince asked.
“Possibly.”
“I’ll get some guys together and search vacant buildings and homes. If Taren is somewhere in Brac Village, we’ll find him.”
For the first time since learning Max was sick, Dillon felt hope blossom inside him.
Chapter Eight
Max woke to an empty room and a quiet house. He’d expected to find Dillon lying next to him. Had he gone to the kitchen for something, or was he using the bathroom?
With a groan, Max pushed himself from the bed and stumbled into the hallway. “Dillon?”
No one answered. That was odd considering Orlando and Newt should’ve been home. He didn’t even hear Duke bark, and all the little guy seemed to do was yap his head off most of the time. Duke’s silence sent a chill down Max’s spine as he pressed a hand into the wall for stability and made his way toward the dining room.
He veered right and wandered into the kitchen, wincing at how sore his body felt. His joints ached, and he was sweating badly. Max wanted to turn around and go back to bed, but the longer he searched for his mate, the more worried he became. “Dillon?”
The kitchen was empty. Not even Baby Girl was around.
Then he heard it. Duke’s bark. It sounded distant, as though he was outside. Max turned and walked out of the kitchen, strode slowly through the dining room, and headed into the den, still using the walls for support.
His brows shot up when he saw Newt tied up with a gag in his mouth. Orlando was passed out cold on the floor, and there was blood on his head. Baby Girl lay next to Orlando, but she wasn’t moving.
Newt shook his head, his eyes wide. He was mumbling something, but Max couldn’t make out what he was saying. His head swam with dizziness as he tried to catch his breath. Max saw movement from the corner of his eye a little too late.
He was grabbed from behind and lifted off his feet, but Max was too weak to fight the hold.
“Got someone who wants to see you,” the stranger grunted in his ear. He smelled like a demon. “He must want you awfully bad because he paid me handsomely to come fetch you.”
Where in the hell was Dillon? Why wasn’t his mate here? Max struggled to get free, but his attempts were pathetic. He could barely lift his arms and legs and became exhausted quickly. Max hung like a limp noodle in the guy’s arms as the man walked out the front door.
Max gasped when he saw Dillon lying on the ground. The demon must’ve caught him by surprise. Just like Orlando, there was blood on his mate’s head, and Dillon wasn’t moving.
Duke was lapping at Dillon’s face, but when he saw Max, he raced toward him.
“No!” Max fought for the strength to get free. He tried to shift, but nothing happened. “No,” he whimpered as tears flooded his eyes and escaped down his face.
Duke went for the demon’s pant leg, but the demon kicked him away. Duke yelped and went down but struggled to get back up. He collapsed next to Dillon.
“Don’t hurt my dog!”
“He shouldn’t have tried to stop me,” the demon said.
The guy tossed Max over his shoulder and moved through the woods, avoiding the main roads as he carried Max like a sack of potatoes.
The more he was jostled, the more Max felt as though he’d throw up at any second. His gut hurt from where it was pressed into the demon’s shoulder, and the world still spun wildly.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he hung there, thinking about his mate and praying Dillon wasn’t dead. Max begged the gods that be that no one at the house was dead. He loved Orlando like a father figure, cared deeply for Newt, and even though Baby Girl got on his last damn nerve, she didn’t deserve to die. And Duke, how badly was he hurt?
They came to a small clearing. The demon pulled Max from his shoulder and set him on his feet, but Max’s legs gave out. He crumpled to the ground and stared at a small cottage. The demon lifted him up and carried him inside before depositing him on the floor.
“Max?”
Max turned his head and stared into the eyes of Chuck.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Chuck whispered as a look of shock entered his eyes.
“You…bastard…” Max wheezed. “I…trusted…you.”
Sobs wracked Max as Taren entered the room. Max wanted his mate. He wanted to feel Dillon’s arms wrapped around him. He wanted to feel safe and loved, not lying on the floor at Taren’s mercy.
“Why the hell did you bring him here?” Chuck shouted.
Max looked the guy over. Chuck was bleeding from not only his head but his side and thigh. His face was bruised, and his arms were pulled behind him, bound, but they were at a funny angle, as if they were broken.
The guy looked like shit.
Taren lifted Max off the floor by his hair. Max cried out as he was tossed to the couch. “Because he’s the one who started all this. If he hadn’t stolen from me, I wouldn’t be forced to live like a goddamn scavenger.”
The room spun. No, don’t pass out! If Max did, there was no telling what Taren would do to him. Not that he wasn’t already in trouble. Maybe passing out would be better. Then Max wouldn’t feel the pain Taren was sure to inflict on him.
Why did Max smell tuna casserole? Why did he care? He lifted his head from the cushions and glared at Chuck. “Thanks for poisoning me, you fucking prick. I hope you get what’s coming to you.”
The stranger who had kidnapped Max walked out of the house and closed the door behind him.
Chuck looked genuinely confused. “What’re you talking about? I didn’t poison you.”
“You lying piece of shit,” Max snarled. He rested his head back on the cushion, too weak to keep it held up. “I hate the day we ever met.”
“Now that your reunion is out of the way”—Taren twisted the knife in Chuck’s side—“you’ll take me to the Black River, or I’ll kill Max.”
“You’re gonna kill me anyway,” Max said. His voice had gone raspy as he struggled to breathe. It was as though he had the weight of an elephant crushing his body. Fur sprouted along his arms and then disappeared. He felt his canines descend and then retract.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Chuck asked.
“You should be more worried about what I’m gonna do to him if you keep refusing to take me, Maltese.” Taren backhanded Chuck.
Maltese? What was Taren talking about? It dawned on Max that Chuck had been a fictitious name. Or was Maltese a fake name? Did Max really care what the guy called himself?
Taren pulled the knife from Chuck’s thigh and walked over to the couch. Max tried to shrink back, but there was nowhere for him to go. He grabbed Max up by his hair and stuck the blade against his throat. “Take me or I kill him.”
“Okay!” Chuck clenched his eyes shut as he gasped for air. “Just…just don’t hurt Max.”
“Why do you care?” Max argued. “You poisoned me.”
“No I didn’t!” Chuck shouted as his eyes flew open and he stared wide-eyed at Max. “I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about.”
Max started to call Chuck every vile name he could think of, but his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he passed out.
* * * *
Dillon drew several deep breaths as he heard Vince’s voice. “Come on, open those eyes for me. You’ve taken tougher beatings than this.”
His stomach shrank, and his head spun as he jackknifed, regretting the quick movement as he braced a hand to his spinning head. He grimaced when he pulled his hand back and saw blood.
It took a few attempts for him to recall what had happened. Something hard had struck his head, and he’d passed out. “Max!”
“Hey, hey.” Vince pushed him back down when Dillon tried to get up. “Why don’t you get your bearings first? You haven’t shifted to heal, and that lump on your head looks pretty serious.”
“Where’s…agh.” Dillon pressed the heel of his hand against his left eye. He had a migraine from hell trying to cr
ack his skull open. “Where’s Max?”
“You need to shift, or you’ll be useless.”
“I’m not doing a fucking thing until you answer my question,” Dillon snapped. He tried to sit up again, but the world tilted sideways, and he collapsed back to the ground. “Answer me, damn it.”
“He’s not in the house,” Vince said. “I found Werth knocked out cold, and Newt was tied up. Jacoby rushed Duke and Baby Girl to the vet. Both seemed to have suffered injuries.”
Dillon’s chest tightened as he tried once more to get to his feet. This time Vince helped him up. The world went wonky for a second, but Dillon took several deep breaths and the dizziness subsided.
“Did Newt see what happened?” The sound of distant sirens could be heard. Vince must’ve called in backup. His partner guided him toward the bench in the front yard, and Dillon went, dropping down as he tried to piece everything together.
“He said some stranger barged in and took Werth down. The guy had to be a professional because he neutralized our boss in seconds, and we both know Werth isn’t an easy guy to take down.”
Sheriff Werth was as tough as they came. Vince was right. If their boss was disabled that quickly, they were dealing with a pro.
“He tied Newt up and kicked the cat when she hissed and swiped a clawed paw at him.” Vince scowled. “How can anyone hurt an animal? This guy has to be pure evil.”
Dillon agreed. “I need to find Max.”
“Newt said Max was weak when he came into the den. The stranger snatched him and took off.”
The front door opened, and Newt walked out, a bag of frozen vegetables in his hand. He pressed the bag against Dillon’s head. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to stop him from taking Max.”
Dillon winced. The bag touching his head hurt. “Why didn’t he knock you out?”
Newt shrugged. “I wasn’t a threat like you guys were.”
Werth came outside, looking a bit unsteady as he joined them. “The guy who took Max smelled like demon. But he wasn’t Taren or Chuck. I memorized their photos, and this man was different.”