Bound by Torment (The Alliance Series Book 5)

by Brenda K. Davies

  That brief contact with her sister had reminded her of the world beyond the blood, death, and terror she’d been residing in, and she hated relinquishing her only tie to it. But she’d hung up the phone, left the house behind, and returned to the truck and Declan. She put the sword back in the bed of the vehicle before climbing behind the wheel.

  She kept to backroads in the hopes of discovering a place where they could hide until Declan recovered. They traveled over fifty miles before she spotted this barn. The windows of the house two hundred feet away were broken out. The charred roof sagged in one section, and in another, it had collapsed into the burned-out home.

  Whoever once lived there was gone; she didn’t know if they would be back to rebuild, but that wasn’t a concern for today. She would be out of here before then, or at least she hoped she would.

  She longed to go home, but she didn’t dare make the journey while Declan was still so vulnerable. With all the cameras between here and there, the Savages might spot her. Or the assholes could turn to the media for help with hunting her and Declan, so it was best if they stayed low until he was stronger.

  She drove the truck into the barn, climbed out, and closed the barn door behind her. Leaning against the door, she took a deep breath as she took in the shadowy interior. The sun’s rays spilled through the slats of the walls, and dust particles danced in the air. The ladder to the loft was five feet in front of the pile of straw Declan lay on.

  Willow stepped away from the door and removed the sword from the truck bed before returning to Declan’s side. Setting it into the pile of straw, she knelt beside him as she bit into her wrist and held it to his mouth.

  “You have to feed,” she coaxed, but he showed no sign he heard her.

  She pushed her wrist between his lips and tilted his head back. Her blood filled his mouth until he swallowed. Running her fingers over his face, she memorized the feel of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, and the shape of his brow as she tried not to think about the possibility she might have already lost him.

  He’d acted normal the last time they spoke, but the continued discoloration of his skin indicated he was far from under control.

  “Stay with me,” she pleaded.

  When her skin healed, she removed her wrist from his mouth and bit into it again before wedging it back between his lips. Lifting her head, she stared into the rafters and the bales of hay stacked above. On this level of the barn, three stalls lined each side; some of the doors were open, but others remained locked.

  She was about to pull her wrist from his mouth to bite it again when his fangs pierced her flesh. Her relief was so profound she nearly wept when he started feeding on her.

  Leaning closer to him, a few tears slid free when she pressed her cheek to his. “Come back to me.”

  After Declan finished feeding, Willow knelt over him and held her breath as she waited for some sign of life. She’d given him a fair amount of her blood, but he remained unmoving. Inspecting his injuries again, she saw some of them were starting to close; unfortunately, that meant they were closing around the weapons still embedded in him.

  Unable to leave the bolts in, Willow rested her hand on his shoulder and gripped one of them. Her teeth ground together as she tore it from his chest. Declan’s body followed the bolt a couple of inches off the ground before it came free, and he fell back again.

  Willow groaned at the pain she’d inflicted on him, and there were still so many to go. She didn’t want to be the one who did this, but there were no other options. Fresh blood trickled from where she’d removed the bolt as her shaking hands gripped another one and pulled it free.

  Judging by the location of the bolts, at least six of them had pierced organs, which was part of the reason he was struggling to heal. She’d never seen anyone sustain this much damage and keep going. The fact he’d remained conscious and fighting for so long was a miracle—one she suspected had to do with the color pulsing through him.

  Willow couldn’t think about what she was doing and how much it hurt him as she methodically pulled the rest of the bolts free and tossed them into the closest stall. If she thought about it, she’d never finish her task.

  When she finished, she bit into her wrist and held it to Declan’s mouth. At first, he didn’t feed again, but after a few minutes, his fangs pierced her flesh and he started draining her.

  While he fed, she inspected the bullet holes. Most of the bullets had already worked their way free; the other ones were moving toward the surface. With nothing to help her dig them out, she had no choice but to let them do their own thing.

  When she couldn’t take any more blood loss, she pulled her wrist from his mouth and lay in the straw beside him. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face as he lay sleeping beside her.

  Resting her hand on his chest, she cherished the beat of his slower-than-normal heart. The blood seeping from his freshly reopened wounds eased, but at least this time, it wasn’t because he didn’t have enough blood in him. Instead, it was because he was finally healing again.

  Exhausted, famished, and battered herself, Willow tried to stay awake, but at some point, she lost the battle and passed out.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Willow woke with a start and bolted upright to take in her surroundings. It took her a couple of seconds to recall where she was and what happened as moonlight drifted through the cracks. Despite the arrival of night, she could see nearly as well as she did in the daytime.

  She’d fallen asleep with her hand clutching Declan’s, and it remained in her grasp as she turned toward him. She’d hoped to find the color gone from his face, but it hadn’t, and he remained unconscious.

  Still battered and bruised, she winced when she removed her hand from his and rose onto her knees to examine him more closely. His heart continued its sluggish beat, and blood still trickled from a couple of wounds, which meant she had to hunt.

  Willow closed her eyes as she rested her hand over those injuries and willed them to heal faster. With time, he would pull through this, but they didn’t have time. She needed him healthy and capable of fighting in case the Savages found them again.

  Leaning over, she kissed his cheek and rested her hand on it. “I’ll be back.”

  She hated leaving him, but she had no other choice. It would take a lot longer for him to heal without blood, and she couldn’t keep supplying him if she didn’t replenish herself. That would only result in them both being too weak to fight.

  Willow groaned when she pushed herself to her feet and lifted the sword from the straw. She would have cuddled up with the weapon if she wasn’t scared of accidentally cutting herself with it. She didn’t know if a small cut would be enough to turn her to ash, but she wasn’t willing to take the chance.

  Though her body was healing fast, she still ached as she trudged toward the sliding door. If she hadn’t fed Declan, the man’s blood would have completely healed her by now, but she was also desperate for nourishment.

  Stopping at the door, she stood and listened for any hint of something more out there, but she didn’t detect any unusual sounds, and the night smelled crisp and clean. The Savages were hunting them, but they weren’t close to this barn… Yet.

  She didn’t think any threat lurked nearby, but she inched the door open and kept the sword in hand as she prepared to take out anything on two legs. When the door was open, she craned her head to look around the empty field before stepping outside and closing the door behind her.

  The field allowed her to see anything coming at them from far away. Unfortunately, it also worked against her as she was completely exposed. The half-moon, surrounded by thousands of twinkling stars, shone in the night sky.

  Often when she was at home and safe within the walls of her family’s compound, she’d lay on her back and stare at those stars for hours. But she wasn’t home, she wasn’t safe, and the brightness of the night sky worked against her.

  She cast one last glance back at the barn before lopi
ng across the field and toward the woods on the other side of the road. The sword didn’t make running easy, but they’d have to pry the thing out of her cold, dead hands before she left it behind.

  As far as she was concerned, the Savages already had an advantage with the demons on their side; she wouldn’t let them reclaim such a powerful weapon. Finally making it to the shelter of the trees, she sighed even as she cursed being back in the woods.

  It took more time than she would have liked to find a couple of deer and a coyote to feed on. She glutted herself on their blood before petting their heads and releasing them. When one of the deer nudged her and placed its head in her lap, she realized a few tears were sliding down her cheeks.

  She had no idea why she was crying; maybe exhaustion or perhaps it was the terror for Declan still clawing at her insides. Either way, now was not the time for tears as she wiped them angrily from her eyes. Willow rested her hand on the deer’s head and closed her eyes as she took comfort in the animal.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  The deer nudged her with its warm muzzle before turning and bounding into the woods. Reclaiming the sword, Willow rose and ran back toward the barn. The building, and Declan, had been out of her sight for too long.

  Arriving at the edge of the woods, she stopped to study the field again. The moon shining on the acres of empty farmland made it look as if a layer of frost coated the land. When she didn’t detect any indication of Savages nearby, she sprinted to the barn door. She pushed the door open, slid inside, and closed it behind her.

  She ran to where Declan remained unmoving on the straw. Holding her breath, she waited to see the rise and fall of his chest. Seconds ticked into a minute before he finally inhaled again.

  Willow’s breath burst free, and her knees went weak. Setting the sword carefully aside, she knelt in the straw beside him and lifted his head to set it in her lap. She stroked his stubble-roughened cheek as she bit into her wrist and placed it against his mouth.

  After a minute, his fangs sank into her, and joy swelled in her chest along with a love so deep she couldn’t hold back her tears. They slid down her cheeks and fell onto his face when she bent to kiss his forehead.

  “Come back to me soon,” she whispered. The words had become her mantra to him.

  She let him take as much of her blood as she could tolerate before pulling her wrist away and settling his head in the straw. Blood still covered them both. The coppery tang of it was heavy on the air as it stuck her clothes to her body. She’d kill for a shower, but that wasn’t going to happen today.

  Rising, her legs wobbled, and she staggered a little from the blood loss. It took her a few minutes to feel steady enough to walk over to the faucet set between two of the stalls. She had no hope it worked, so when she turned it on and the pipes groaned, she wasn’t disappointed when water didn’t pour out.

  Then, a couple of drops splashed onto the dirt floor. Willow gawked at it before whooping in joy; she pumped her fists in the air as she danced around the small area. Then she realized she was wasting precious time when she could be getting clean!

  Looking around, she uncovered a couple of water buckets hanging in one of the stalls. She pulled one out and set it beneath the faucet before going to the truck to search for any supplies she could use. She found a couple of rags stuffed beneath the driver’s seat; they smelled of a minty cleaner, but she didn’t care.

  Filling the bucket with water, she stripped and scrubbed the blood from her with the rag. It took three buckets of water to remove all the blood, but all her wounds had healed. When she finished, she dumped the bucket in one of the stalls and bent to stick her head under the faucet so she could wash her hair.

  Her lip curled in disgust as she stared at her bloody clothes. She dreaded putting them back on, but she didn’t have a choice. As much as she hated the idea of being covered in filth again, she loathed the possibility of being discovered naked by a pack of Savages more.

  She dressed, dumped the bloody water in one of the stalls, cleaned out the bucket, and refilled it. She carried the water over to where Declan lay and knelt beside him to wash the blood away.

  She removed his jacket and the holster containing his one remaining sword, before setting them aside. Her hands trembled as they fell on his shirt. There was something he didn’t want her to see, but she couldn’t leave him covered in blood like this. Still, it would be a betrayal to him if she exposed his secrets while he was too vulnerable to tell her no.

  “Damn it,” she whispered.

  Shifting her attention to his lower half, she untied his boots, pulled them off, removed his socks, and set them aside. Next, she took off his jeans off and placed them beside his boots. She examined the wounds on his thighs and calves as she tenderly washed the blood from his skin.

  Puckered and raw, the holes from the bolts and bullets had finally stopped bleeding. The bullets had all worked their way free, but he still showed no sign of waking. He didn’t react at all while she cleaned him.

  It took three buckets of water to wash away all the blood from his legs. She lifted his bloody jeans and started redressing him. He wouldn’t want to be naked either if the Savages discovered them.

  Leaning back, she examined his chest again. She’d touched his belly before, but he’d pulled her hands away. She hated leaving him filthy like this, but she couldn’t bring herself to break his trust. His legs were healing, which meant his torso and back were too; she couldn’t justify removing his shirt by saying she was checking his wounds.

  She rose, emptied the dirty water, refilled the bucket with fresh water, and knelt at his side again. She dipped a rag into the bucket before running it across the handsome planes of his face and down his neck. Once she removed the blood, the red and black color of his face was more vivid and frightening.

  She rested her palm against his cheek and bent to kiss his forehead before lying beside him. She refused to let him go as she stared at the lashes curling against his cheek.

  “Come back to me,” she whispered.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Willow spent the next two days hunting at night and supplying Declan with blood while she pleaded with him to come back to her. There were many hours she lay awake and caressing his cheek while she waited for his eyes to open.

  His heartbeat and breathing had returned to normal yesterday, and when she checked the wounds on his legs, they were little more than swollen, red blisters marring his flesh. The color had yet to fade from his skin, and the more time he spent unconscious, the more her anxiety grew.

  Sometimes, she discovered herself pacing the barn and muttering like a crazed animal with no memory of how she’d gotten there. She felt like she was losing her mind as her emotions swung from despair to fury at the assholes who did this to him.

  Her growing feelings of helplessness and uncertainty didn’t help. She was beginning to worry that he’d sustained too much damage and would spend the rest of eternity trapped in this realm of unconsciousness, and there was nothing she could do to save him.

  Now, she sat beside him in the straw as she examined the sword for the hundredth time since arriving here. When she lifted it, the sun filtering through the slats reflected off the silver blade and cast shards of light around the barn. The weapon was amazingly lightweight for its length and killing ability.

  She’d never seen anything like it before, and though she’d studied it for hours over the past couple of days, she still marveled at its beauty and feared its wrath. The blade was the color of mercury, and in the rays of the sun, it flowed in a way that reminded her of the Terminator, who turned himself into liquid.

  Careful not to touch the blade, she turned the hilt over to examine the red-orange stone set in the center of it. When she looked closely, she could see deeper flecks of red and orange color deep inside it. And sometimes, she swore, those colors coalesced and swirled together. Like the blade, the stone was something she’d never seen before.

  At three feet l
ong, the sword was like holding liquid fire and sunlight in her hand. After seeing what it did to those Savages, it wouldn’t surprise her to discover that’s what it was. That somehow, the Savages or demons, managed to infuse the killing power of sunlight and fire into the blade. No markings etched the sword at all, and there was no way to tell where it came from, but she would eat worms if they discovered it originated on earth.

  Declan’s eyes cracked open to discover Willow sitting beside him with her head bent forward and her blonde hair falling about her shoulders. His gaze fell to the sword in her hand as she ran her fingers over the jewel.

  She looked so achingly beautiful with the sun spilling over her, but where had that weapon come from, and where were they?

  He closed his eyes as he tried to recall what happened. And then he saw the sword plunging into a Savage and turning it to ash. What was that thing?

  His eyes flew open in time to watch Willow stroke the blade. His breath caught, and he almost shouted at her not to touch it, but he was afraid of startling her. She pulled her fingers back and moved a few feet away to stash the sword somewhere.

  Her face remained blank, but he sensed the fear churning beneath her outwardly calm exterior. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  Willow’s head jerked up, her mouth parted, and she scrambled across the straw to kneel at his side. “You’re awake!”

  Declan smiled as he pushed himself into a seated position. His stiff muscles protested the action, but he didn’t feel anything shifting around inside him, which meant no broken bones.

  “I’m awake,” he muttered.

  When she released a sound part joy and part sob, he clasped her cheek in the palm of his hand. She looked about to throw herself into his arms, but she held back as her lower lip quivered.

  “I was beginning to think you’d never come back to me,” she whispered.