Bound by Torment (The Alliance Series Book 5)

by Brenda K. Davies

  Lifting her foot, Willow planted it in the belly of the next Savage who came at her and, leaning against the truck, held the monster back. She maneuvered the blade up and between them, gripped the hilt in both hands, and plunged it into the Savage’s throat.

  The jewel in the hilt sparked and released a brilliant flash of color before the Savage erupted into ashes. Willow was so unprepared for the sudden release of weight against her foot that she almost fell on her ass. Declan’s hand snagged her arm to stop her from hitting the ground.

  Silence descended as the floating ashes drifted down to cling to her skin. The fight paused as the Savages stood with their mouths agape. Over their shoulders, she spotted Derrick, holding in his intestines and looking as astounded as the rest of his cohorts. He hadn’t known what kind of weapon he possessed.

  Willow broke free of her paralysis, and lunging forward, she sank the sword into the belly of another Savage. His eyes widened, and she swore she saw a flash of fire in his eyes before he burst into ashes too.

  “Holy shit,” Declan breathed.

  And now he knew what was so important that the Savages had risked returning to the tunnels to uncover it. The fact they hadn’t returned for it years ago meant they hadn’t known where it was. They’d probably spent the past five years searching for it before finally deciding to return to the tunnels.

  However, it didn’t seem like any of them knew about the sword’s unusual ability. He bet Kirkau had kept that little detail hidden from them. Which meant he didn’t want them to know what this sword could do because it probably worked against demons too.

  For the first time, they might possess a powerful weapon against the demons, and they had to get it out of here.

  Willow gripped the sword in both hands and swung the blade at the closest Savages. She’d never been more awed or scared of a weapon before. She wanted to release it and run or destroy it, but mostly, she never wanted to let it go.

  Grasping it in both hands, she lunged toward the closest Savages who scrambled away from her. They fled like cockroaches from the light as they pushed and shoved against each other to get away. She considered following them and unleashing the sword’s wrath, but this might be the only break they got.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  Seizing Declan’s hand, she kept the blade far away from her as they ran for the woods.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Willow didn’t know how long they ran or how much ground they covered before Declan started to falter. She kept glancing behind her but didn’t see or hear any Savages pursuing them. After their reaction to the sword, they might never follow them. Derrick had tracked them the first time, but he was too injured to keep up now.

  Once he healed….

  She had to get Declan as far from here as possible before that happened. Whereas the other Savages looked like they were done playing, Derrick wouldn’t give up until he had the sword and the two of them.

  With the way Declan was bleeding, he’d have no problem following their trail. And he would bring the others with him, even if the sword terrified them. They may not have known what it could do, but they’d want it back.

  Wrapping her arm around Declan’s waist, she helped support him when his knees buckled, and he almost went down. “You have to take some of my blood,” she said.

  “No.” He willed his legs to support him again. “You’re injured.”

  “Nowhere near as bad as you. If you don’t take some of my blood, you’re not going to make it much farther, and I’m not leaving you behind.”

  “I’ll be fine; keep going.”

  “Stop being such a stubborn asshole.”

  Pain etched the lines of his face, but he gave her a small smile. “You’re such a sweet talker.”

  She rolled her eyes but was grateful he was teasing her. She hadn’t known what to expect from him, given that the color remained; she was a little worried that if they made it out of this, he might never completely come back to her.

  Biting into her wrist, she offered it to him. “Shut up and feed.”

  Declan stared at the drops of blood on her creamy skin. He wanted to deny her offering, but he was ravenous, and he needed this connection to her again. The battle was over for now, but he’d lost control of himself, and his body remained primed for the kill as he tried and failed to calm himself.

  Lifting Willow’s wrist to his mouth, he licked her blood away before biting into her flesh and lifting his gaze to her face. Bruised and battered, blood caked her swollen features, but the red and black color he’d seen earlier was gone. He didn’t have to look at his hands to know it hadn’t left him yet; he wondered if it would ever leave.

  He closed his eyes as he savored Willow’s sweet blood while her essence and strength seeped into him. It wasn’t enough, he required so much more given the damage done to him, but it was ambrosia on his tongue.

  The creak of a branch caused him to release his hold on her. He glanced around the woods, but all he saw were the shadows cast by the trees swaying in the growing breeze. Then a coyote loped out from behind a tree and disappeared into the woods. Declan’s mouth watered as he watched the creature go, but he was in no condition to hunt.

  “We should get those bullets and the bolts out of you,” Willow said. “You’ll heal faster if we do.”

  “Later. First, we have to put more distance between them and us. That sword won’t scare them away forever, and it will only be a couple of hours before Derrick heals enough to follow.”

  Willow shuddered at the possibility and glanced at the sky. Clouds obscured the moon and stars, but Derrick wouldn’t need much light to hunt them.

  “You should take more blood,” she said.

  Declan cupped her chin and turned her wounded cheek toward him. He ran his thumb along the black and blue lump there. “This never should have happened.”

  The low, gravelly tone of his voice was almost animalistic and more frightening than the horde of Savages. Would this out-of-control, ruthless part of him ever let go? Had she lost the calm, tender man she’d come to love?

  The realization she was in love with him hit her almost as hard as the Savage who broke her cheek. Her fingers clenched on him as a lump rose in her throat. She suppressed the tears trying to break free as she searched his face and eyes for some sign that whatever had possession of him was losing its control. There was none.

  She rested her hand over his on her cheek. “Come back to me.”

  Declan’s fingers twitched on her cheek, and some of his tension eased, but when another tree creaked, fury boiled forth again. “We have to move.”

  Willow buried her disappointment. It didn’t matter what he became or was becoming; she would love this version of him too.

  Her blood revitalized him enough that he could run without her support for a while again. But the more blood he left on the forest floor, the weaker he became. He kept his growing weakness hidden from her until his vision blurred and breathing became increasingly difficult.

  As his adrenaline continued to wane and the flood of emotions eased, so did his strength. He continued to draw on the pain suffusing him, but it wasn’t enough to fuel him anymore. He had bolts in his lungs and more in other organs.

  Bullets still peppered his flesh; some had worked their way out, but others remained. His muscle and skin weren’t closing over those bullet holes as fast as they should. He’d sustained far too many injuries and lost too much blood for his body to heal at its normal rate.

  Wrapping her arm around his waist, she helped Declan through the woods. Careful to keep branches from hitting him, she ran as fast as she could with him. She thought she’d be relieved to see the sun starting to rise, but she was too concerned about him to rejoice over a new day. She now carried most of his weight as his head lulled forward before rising again.

  Every part of her body ached, but she ignored the discomfort and the strain of his weight as she continued onward. If the Savages discovered them now, they’d easil
y take them over. The color still covered his body, but she didn’t think Declan could defend himself anymore.

  When he staggered and went to his knees, Willow jerked him up and tucked the hilt of the sword beneath her armpit so she could carry more of his weight. They both desperately needed to feed, but she didn’t dare stop to hunt. Even with the sun up, she was afraid to waste the time it would take to track something.

  When he lost consciousness, Willow kept her arm under his shoulders as she dragged him through the woods. Sweat ran down her back, she was still able to keep up a steady jog, but her legs were weakening. It didn’t matter; she would carry him to Antarctica if it got them out of these woods. Did they ever fucking end?

  She protected Declan from the branches that slapped her face and tore at her hair. She stumbled over roots and hit her knees off a rock when they both fell. Feeling weaker with every passing hour, she still dragged them back to their feet and continued.

  She had no idea when they would finally catch a reprieve, or when the Savages would descend on them, but they couldn’t have much time left.

  The sun shone high in the sky, and she guessed it was around noon when she fell against the side of an embankment. Releasing Declan, she rolled over to stare at the pristine sky through the arching branches of the oak trees surrounding her.

  She would love to sleep for a few hours, but there was no time for it. She did give herself a few minutes to catch her breath before rolling to face Declan. Resting her head on her arm, she gazed at his slack face as she laid her hand on his cheek and ran her fingers through his auburn hair.

  The blood caked in his hair turned it a deeper shade of auburn. The red and black color remained throughout what she could see of his body. She didn’t know why it wasn’t leaving him, but he’d lost so much blood and sustained so many wounds that he’d stopped healing. Or he was healing so slowly that she couldn’t tell it was happening.

  She had to get him somewhere safe so she could remove the bolts and bullets and feed him. But that was a lot easier said than done.

  Refusing to let her fear for him take over, she rested her hands on the ground and was about to push herself up when she heard the low rumble of something in the distance. Willow froze as her heart lurched sickeningly in her chest.

  Then, gripping the sword, she drew it before her as she prepared to slice her way through a horde of Savages. Except, the woods remained quiet, and she didn’t smell the stench of rot. It wasn’t Savages coming for her, but then what was it?

  And then her exhausted, overwrought brain clicked the noise into place, and she almost kicked herself for being an idiot. The sound wasn’t from approaching Savages; it was the rumble of tires on the road.

  A car! Freedom!

  A strangled cry escaped, and she shoved the sword under a bunch of leaves before lifting Declan. She hated to leave the weapon behind, but if she jumped into the middle of the road while waving a sword, a human would probably run her over, and she wouldn’t blame them. However, they might take one look at her in her current condition and still run her over.

  Willow scrambled up the embankment and set Declan carefully down by the side of the road. She barely looked where she was going before flinging herself into the middle of the street. Tires squealed, rubber burned, and she glimpsed a metal grill barreling toward her before she threw up her hands and turned her face away.

  She didn’t breathe as she waited for the vehicle to hit her, but the impact never came as the truck screeched to a halt. It was so close that when she lowered her hands, they rested on the warm hood.

  The middle-aged man behind the wheel stared at her from under the brim of a white cowboy hat with feathers sticking out of its black band. His brown eyes were wide in disbelief as his jaw hung ajar. Then he clamped his mouth shut, and anger clouded his cantankerous face.

  “Are you out of your mind?” he demanded out of his open window.

  “I need your help,” Willow said.

  “Are you on drugs?”

  “I’m not on drugs.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “I was in an accident.”

  The man snorted in disbelief. “This is one of those robbery type of things, isn’t it? Get out of my way, or I’ll hit you!”

  “I’m not going to rob you.” Willow lowered her hands from the hood and edged toward the side of it. When she did, he hit the gas. “No!”

  She jumped back in front of the vehicle, and this time, the bumper hit her knees and staggered her back a step. She glared at the man; he glared back at her. If she wasn’t out of his way soon, he would run her over.

  Drawing on her dwindling reserves of strength and power, she held his gaze while she spoke. “You’re going to put your truck in park, move over, and let me take it.”

  She contemplated pulling the angry asshole out of the vehicle, draining him, and using his blood to strengthen Declan, but she couldn’t do that. He was pissed and willing to run her over. However, she also sensed his distress in the increased beat of his heart and the way his eyes darted around like he was waiting for someone else to emerge from the woods and attack him.

  She didn’t blame him for being scared; if she were human, she’d be afraid too, but she needed his truck, and his fear was nothing compared to hers for Declan.

  “Move over, sir,” Willow commanded as she took control of his mind.

  Reluctantly, the man shifted into park, released the wheel, unbuckled his seat belt, and slid into the middle of the vehicle.

  “Get into the passenger side,” Willow commanded. “And stay there. Don’t move an inch.”

  The man’s lips compressed into a flat line, but he did as Willow ordered. She stared at him before returning to Declan; she checked to make sure he was okay. His shallow breath came out raspy as it whispered past his lips. She had to get him fed soon.

  Running down the embankment, she retrieved the sword before returning to Declan. She lifted him from the side of the road and dragged him forward. His toes skidded across the pavement as she hauled him over to the truck, opened the driver’s side door, and plopped him on the seat.

  “What happened to him?” the man demanded with a mixture of awe and disgust. “You’re not putting a dead guy in my truck.”

  “He’s not dead!” Willow snapped.

  “What happened to him?”

  “A war,” Willow muttered.

  The man’s horrified eyes swung to her, but she ignored him as she kept one hand on Declan's shoulder to keep him on the seat while she placed the sword in the truck’s bed. She put a folded tarp on top of the sword to keep it from sliding around. She hated parting with the weapon, but it was safer in the bed than in the cab, where it might accidentally stab one of them.

  She pushed and shoved Declan as she maneuvered him toward the middle of the truck. “Help me with him,” she commanded the man.

  He reluctantly touched Declan's shoulder. “Does he have any diseases?”

  “No, and no more questions from you.”

  When Declan was finally in the middle of the truck, Willow buckled his seat belt to keep him from falling too far forward and climbed behind the wheel. She slammed the door shut, shifted into drive, stomped on the gas, and peeled away.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Willow dragged Declan into the barn and over to a pile of straw at the far back of the large, gray barn. There were no animals in the barn, but the scent of horses and leather lingered on the air. She wished there were animals here; she could have fed on them instead of leaving Declan to hunt, but now, she had no choice.

  She settled Declan onto the bed of straw and knelt at his side. When she brushed back the strands of his hair to reveal more of his face, dread coiled in her stomach when she saw none of the colors had eased from him.

  With trembling hands, she turned her attention from him and to the rest of his body. The bleeding had stopped, but she didn’t think it was because the wounds were healing. In fact, when she looked closer, she saw his f
lesh hadn’t sealed around the bolts as it usually would. Instead, he’d stopped bleeding because he no longer had enough blood left to shed.

  The beat of his heart was so languid she barely breathed as she waited for each beat to be his last. She was reluctant to leave his side, but she had to get him blood soon.

  She pushed herself up and hurried to the front of the barn, where she slid the ten-foot-high door further open. A nervous glance around the field and paddock revealed both were still empty as she jogged toward the pickup.

  After driving the owner of the truck twenty minutes to his house, she fed on him and gave more of her blood to Declan. He was the first human she ever fed from, and though she hated doing it, Declan needed the blood.

  Afterward, she left Declan in the truck while she followed the man inside. He had no other vehicle, so after learning more about him, she left him with instructions to call his son in three days. That was when he could report his truck stolen. Willow would have made him wait longer, but he didn’t have much food in the house and no way to get any more.

  She called Vicky from the man’s home and listened to her sister sob with joy while she held back her tears. It was tempting to stay at the man’s house and wait for the cavalry to arrive, but they were still too close to Culver for her liking.

  Unable to give Vicky a destination of where she would go, she told her she was going to put more distance between them and Culver. She couldn’t stop somewhere to buy a new phone because of cameras, so she didn’t see them getting their hands on a burner phone anytime soon, and the man didn’t have one for her to take.

  Vicky told her that Abby and Brian were back, and Brian was looking for them, but Willow made her promise to call him off. She didn’t want anyone else tangled up in this mess or for something to happen to Brian. She promised Vicky she would do everything she could to make it home.

  She asked about Lucien, but Vicky said there was still no sign of him. Unwilling to spend any more time on the phone, Willow told Vicky to pass her love on to her family and hung up.