Desire Unchained

He leaned forward. “Good. Do you know what I am? What I really am?”

“You’re a Seminus demon.” She glanced at the black markings that ran from the fingers of his right hand all the way up to his neck, tattoos she’d thought were just that; tattoos. But she’d since learned that they were something he’d been born with, a history of his paternity going back dozens of generations. The very top symbol, an unseeing eye just beneath his jaw, was his personal mark, which would have appeared following his first maturation phase at the age of twenty.

“And?”

She smiled tightly. “I spent months researching your species after that night.” Not that much information had been available. Oh, incubi had been thoroughly documented, but his particular breed, Seminus, was so rare that she’d unearthed only sketchy details.

“Then you know my nature—”

“Your nature?” Anger flooded her, anger she thought she’d buried. “I get that you pretty much live in a state of perpetual arousal. I get that your need for sex is all but uncontrollable. But you know what? I don’t give a crap. You tricked me into ha**ng s*x with you. Used your incubus tricks and pheromones. You lied to me, made me think you were human.” She could go on, about how betrayed and sickened she’d been when she’d learned the truth, but ultimately, what had happened after she’d fled his apartment was what mattered. “You ruined my life,” she snapped.

Well, she’d done that herself long before Shade had walked into her coffee shop, but he’d definitely made things worse.

“Shit,” he muttered. “See, this is why I make it a rule to not sleep with a human more than once. Your females are clingy.”

She stared. Sputtered. “Are you kidding me? You think my life was ruined because you seduced me and then broke my heart?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, shrugging one broad shoulder.

What. An. Ass.

Snarling, she leaped into an aggressive crouch so fast he reared backward. Her chains rattled as she trembled with the force of her rage. Her skin prickled, tightening, her gums ached, and she knew she was dangerously close to letting out the inner beast.

“You arrogant son of a bitch.” She slammed her palm into his chest, was thrilled to hear him grunt. “I was upset that night, but I’d have gotten over it. Too bad I never got the chance. See, after I left your apartment, I was attacked, torn up, and left to die. You might have known that if you hadn’t had some skanky vampire shouting your name. You might have heard me scream.”

Shade’s gaze sharpened on her, points of midnight flint. “Someone hurt you?”

“Am I supposed to believe you care?”

His hand came up to curl around hers. “Believe it or not, I’m not a monster.”

She laughed, a hard, bitter sound. “No, but I am.” She got right up in his face. “Because of you, I’m a monster, Shade. I’m a goddamned werewolf.”

Chapter 2

A werewolf? Not good.

Shade closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, he’d wake up in his own bed and Runa would be gone.

“Well?”

So much for that. This nightmare wasn’t going away. He opened his eyes. Wished he hadn’t. Runa was glaring at him, her pale eyes sparking. Gods, he’d bet she was beautiful in beast form … shiny, toffee fur, glowing champagne eyes. She’d be big; would probably stand taller than him. And now the fact that she seemed taller and leaner made sense. Those bitten by werewolves, or wargs, as they usually called themselves, put on muscle and grew an extra inch or two in human form.

Now that his head had cleared, he could smell her as well. Her scent was no longer flowery and sweet. No, she smelled earthy, like a late summer rain in the forest. Oh, and she also smelled really, really pissed.

“Isn’t the full moon in two days?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why? You think I have a raging case of PMS?”

“It occurred to me.” Weres might joke about Pre-Moon Syndrome, but those who weren’t were-creatures didn’t find anything funny about their hair-trigger tempers, mood swings, and out-of-control sex drives.

“Oh, right. My anger wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that of the two people I hate the most in the world, I’m chained in a cell with one, and in two days when I morph, I’m probably going to be skinned alive for my pelt, which is apparently worth a mint on the underworld black market.” She jerked her hand out of his with a snarl. “So excuse me for being a little pissy.”

“A little?”

She yanked on her chain as though hoping it would break so she could launch at him. “I should bite you.”

“Demons are immune to lycanthropic infection.”

“It’ll still hurt.” She bared her teeth, and he had no doubt she’d rip into him if she could. “I’d planned to hunt you down and cause you some serious pain, you know. Unfortunately, the Ghouls caught me before I could do it.”

“How did they catch you?”

She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I went back to the place where the werewolf attacked me. It was a long shot, but I was hoping to find some clues. Since it was close to your place, I went by your apartment afterward. You weren’t there, but a man approached me from the street as I was leaving. He asked if I knew you. Asked too many questions. I got suspicious and tried to leave, but he jabbed me with a needle. I woke up here.”

Shade frowned. “How’d they know you’re a warg?”

“They didn’t until another warg came to interrogate me,” she said, which made sense. Usually it took a were-creature or shapeshifter to recognize another.

“What did they question you about?”

“You, Shade. They kept asking what I was doing at your place and how I knew you.”

Oh, f**k. She wasn’t taken off the streets for her pelt. She was taken because she knew him. But why?

Runa still glared at him, her delicate brows angled in a severe line. He inhaled her again, took in the sharp aroma of her anger and the softer, feminine scent that tapped into his protective male instincts. She didn’t belong here, trapped with demons in a dungeon that smelled of mold, urine, and layers upon layers of despair.

Neither did his sister, and the knowledge that both Skulk and Runa were here because of him drop-kicked a sick feeling into the pit of his stomach.

His track record for protecting females was the stuff of nightmares.

A harsh grating noise accompanied a draft of cold air as the iron door to their cell swung open. Runa crowded close to Shade. A male Nightlash demon entered, his humanoid appearance broken by clawed feet and sharp teeth. Two imps—one male, one female—followed, eyes and mouths disproportionately large for their small, round heads. They carried chains, a cudgel, and a bamboo cane.

“Take him,” the Nightlash said.

Shade lunged at the imps. The Nightlash tripped one of two levers on the wall. Instantly, the grind of turning wheels rattled the cell, and Shade’s chains shortened, tugging him until he was hanging sideways, plastered to the wall.

He gritted his teeth against the pain wrenching through his shoulder and hip. One of the imps clamped a metal collar around his neck while the other installed leg irons. His curses echoed off the damp walls, but through them, he heard Runa pleading with the Nightlash to leave him alone. Surprised, Shade slid her a glance as the imps lowered him to the floor.

Rage glittered in her eyes, and maybe she didn’t hate him as much as she’d said. Then again, maybe she wanted the Keepers to leave him alone so she could kill him herself.

“Where are you taking me?” Shade thrashed against his bonds, which earned him a strike to the back of the head by the imp with the cudgel.

The Nightlash didn’t answer, merely curled his lips in a nasty smile and wrapped the chain connected to the collar around his fist, yanking Shade to his feet. The imps wrenched his arms behind his back and slapped restraints on his wrists.

They dragged him toward the door. When he struggled at the threshold, a caning to his hamstrings dropped him to his knees. A cool breeze caressed the back of his legs—the cane had torn through his pants. His flesh would be next.

Behind him, Runa spat curses and threats that were as creative as they were ineffective. He couldn’t imagine the Runa he’d bedded saying those things, not the shy creature she’d been. Seemed the little human truly had grown claws and teeth.

Freakin’ sexy.

Or it would have been if he weren’t being dragged toward one of three whipping posts. Sure, Shade could appreciate a good whipping as much as the next guy, but he had a sneaky suspicion that he wasn’t in for a good time. Still, better the post than the water wheel, the rack in the corner, or the meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. And those were the tamer pieces of the torture equipment that littered the cavernous space.

At the rear of the dungeon, an arched opening into a smaller chamber revealed a sight that sent blades of ice right into his spine. Medical equipment filled the room—cutting tools, an autopsy table, a bone saw, and a chest spreader. Fresh and dried blood stained the floor.

Gods, this was beyond sick.

The demons strung him up, facing outward, his hands stretched tight apart and above him, his legs forced wide by a spreader bar and fastened at the ankles. The female imp stroked his thigh, working her way up, and he quickly started working on a plan to seduce her into letting him go … until the Nightlash cuffed her in the head. Still, the fact that some of the Keepers were female was something to keep in mind.

“Where is the Umber female?” he asked.

“Cooperate, and you’ll see her.”

Shade hadn’t expected an answer, so the deep, gravelly voice shocked him. He thought he detected a touch of an accent … Irish maybe, but he couldn’t be sure. A hulking figure veiled in black robes stepped out of the shadows, its chuckle as cold as the air.

“And what do I have to do to cooperate?”

“Suffer.”

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