22
“Bring me this watered down shit again and I’ll break every bone in your body.” Bane held the quaking bartender by the throat. The man shook so much he probably registered on the Richter scale.
“Release him, Bane. Remember the rule about unwanted attention.” Scarla grabbed the hand choking the man.
Bane dropped the bartender back onto his feet and waited as Scarla shoved a Benjamin into his bartender’s palm. “Balkan Vodka, Charlie. Bring the bottle and two glasses.”
The moment Charlie was on his way, Scarla propped her ass on the stool next to Bane. “Spill it.”
Bane gritted his teeth. He came to the underground fight club seeking liquor and a brawl. Not a lecture. If Scarla knew what was good for her, she’d leave him alone. “I thought you stopped coming here.”
“Just because I don’t fight anymore, doesn’t mean I don’t like to watch. Now, stop ignoring the question and spit it out.”
Bane answered her with a glacial stare.
“Don’t want to share? Then let’s play ‘I Bet You,” she said as Charlie came back with an open bottle of Balkan, one of the strongest liquors on the planet, and two glasses. She poured two fingers of liquor into the glasses and passed Bane one.
He downed it without waiting, earning an elbow to his ribs. Scarla refilled his glass and glared at him, all sorts of threats in her champagne colored eyes. He didn’t want to play this stupid game, but he didn’t have the energy to fend her off. Maybe it was the liquor stoking a fire in his belly. It wasn’t because he actually wanted her help.
“The rules of the game are, if I guess correctly, you get a drink. If I’m wrong, then I get a drink.” She saluted him, then said in a singsong voice, “Let us begin. I bet you’re here in a fucked up mood because you have girl problems.”
He was thirsty, that’s why he took a sip and ignored the smirk on her face.
“I bet you really like her and that’s pissing you off.”
It wasn’t that simple. He’d left her hours ago. Hours. Ago. How do you explain abandoning a woman moments after screwing her, because he didn’t want what she made him feel? He didn’t have time for it. He took another sip of his drink and struggled to force it down.
Scarla leaned back and crossed her legs. “I bet you don’t want to like her, but she’s under your skin.”
He drained the glass and held it out for a refill. She obliged and topped it off.
She tapped her chin with a manicured finger. “I bet…you thought you would hit a homerun and now you’re stuck on first base.”
Bane handed Scarla her drink. “Sip. You’re only half UnHallowed and it packs a punch.”
She gave him a lopsided smirk full of attitude and took a tiny sip. “You scored?” She slapped his chest. “I bet she rocked your world and that’s why you’re here with me and not with Amaya. Am I correct? It’s Amaya we’re talking about? Not some random chick you picked up?”
He hated that she was right; Amaya did more than rock his world. She irrevocably altered it, and not for the better. She gave him what he wanted after she’d taken everything away. It wasn’t her fault he killed three humans. He accepted her innocence, but her innocence didn’t change the fact that Michael would end Bane’s existence the moment he discovered his crime.
Scarla nudged him. “Hey, talk to me. I may be able to help, and if not, my ears work.”
Women and their need to talk. “Amaya is—”
“Special. I know. I’m not ashamed to say she almost kicked my ass. She could use some hand to hand training, then I may have to watch my back. Anything you want to tell me about her?”
“No.” He’d bet his immortality she didn’t want to hear how soft Amaya’s skin was, or how delicious she tasted on his tongue. How her silky flesh responded to his touch. How he couldn’t get her out of his damn mind.
“It’s obvious she’s not strictly human.” She used air quotes. “I’m not the only one wondering who the daddy is, Bane.”
They’re gonna wonder a long time. UnHallowed didn’t have gold eyes. Another secret he had to keep from everyone. He eyed Scarla without comment.
“I bet you it’s Tahariél, that horny bastard. If he kept a secret love child, one of you will hold him down while I neuter him.” She sipped her drink. “He’s not my father, right?” she whispered. “I know I’ve asked this before, humor me.”
They’d been down this crooked street already. “Riél is not your father. Neither am I, nor Daghony, Kushiél, or Chayyliél.”
“Then who?”
He had an idea, but he wouldn’t tease or torture her. And he wouldn’t correct her assumption about Amaya being half UnHallowed.
She sighed. “I bet you’re going to screw everything up with Amaya.”
He downed the Balkan and grabbed the bottle.
“You’ve already screwed up, haven’t you?”
He took a large swallow.
“Uggh, Bane!”
“Why do you care?” he snapped.
“I don’t care about her. I care about you, idiot.” She punched his ribs. “I bet you want to fix whatever you’ve fucked up.”
He didn’t take a drink.
She shifted in her seat and completely faced him. “Why? If you like her then…” Her lips thinned and her brow furrowed with a deep frown. “Look, if she makes you happy, go for it. I’m tired of being surrounded by bachelors. Not that I’m saying I like her. I don’t know her well enough to hate her...yet.”
“It’s not that—”
“Simple? Whatevs.” She waved him away. “I swear I’m gonna put the lot of you on Tinder.”
He had no idea what Tinder was and didn’t want to know. “I have to let her go, Scarla.”
She poked him hard in the center of his chest. “You know what? You think you must let her go because you don’t want to try. For all your UnHallowedness, you’re a coward. And I bet you if I find someone I like as much as you like Amaya, I’m not going to fuck it up.”
A cheer went up from the crowd and they both turned to peer through the throng comprised mostly of men, older ones in suits with open collars, younger ones in jeans and Timberlands. Black, White, Asian, Hispanic. A few females hung close to their men, while a few more worked the room hunting for customers. In the middle, stood a circular caged ring. Another cheer went up. Another scream mingled with the glee of the crowd.
“Someone’s putting on a show. Let’s go see who.” Scarla grabbed her drink and cleared the way through the masses. Dressed in a red knit cat suit, every man with a pulse stared, their lust on full display. Until they peered past her and saw Bane. One brave soul didn’t give a fuck and stepped to her.
He opened his mouth to say something witty—and stopped. Scarla had a knife at his throat. That shouldn’t have stopped the fool from speaking. Bane peered over her shoulder for a better look at the situation, and chuckled. Scarla had her other hand so deep in the man’s crotch she’d corkscrewed everything in her palm. “I’ll tell you when I want your company, not the other way around.”
She released him as fast as she snatched him. The poor human crumbled and had to watch her step over him and continue on her way. A hefty man lounging in a booth along the wall signaled to her.
Scarla changed direction and headed that way. “Dimi.” Bane heard her say over the roar of the crowd before kissing the man on both of his florid cheeks.
“My beautiful rebel. You have stayed away too long. You agreed to return to the ring after a brief respite. It’s been months.” Dimi tsked. He was old, in his late sixties with the accompanying leathery skin and paunch, covered in a tailored suit.
“I seem to remember you begging me to come back after I kicked Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest’s”—she pointed to the men lined up next to him— “asses after you tried to strong arm me. You didn’t think I needed a break and tried to convince me of the error of my ways. No one leaves you, remember that discussion, Dimi?”
Crimson crept at the edge of Bane’s vision. Scarla was more than capable of killing the four idiots in front of her. But she shouldn’t have to. No meant no in any and every situation. If they tried it with her, guaranteed they tried it with their other female employees. Scarla glanced over her shoulder at him, one brow arched in question. Half of her blood was the same as his and their proximity allowed her to feel his blooming rage. Her gaze narrowed. I got this, she said in the single glance and turned back to Dimi.
“Answer one question and I will be out of your hair.” She ran her fingers through his scattered salt and pepper strands.
“I don’t want you out of my hair. I want you back in the ring.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. His fingers stretched to the top of her ass.
A snarl climbed up the back of Bane’s throat. Ten seconds. That’s all Dimi had before he lost his arm.
“There is no female who fights like you, my rebel. That’s why I’m desperate to get you back in the ring.”
Scarla preened under the compliment and tossed an ‘I told you so’ glance at Bane, as if he’d asked the question.
“The only one who comes close to your skill is in the ring now, and he is definitely not a female, though I’d swear he was a demon,” Dimi whispered and made the sign of the cross.
Both Scarla and Bane turned their attention to the loose circle in the center of the room. The combatants must have been on the ground grappling, because they hadn’t a view of either men.
“Thanks, Dimi. I’ll give you a call next week to set up a fight. All the testosterone in the air has me nostalgic. I expect seventy percent of the purse.” A string of Russian curses left the man. Scarla didn’t understand the language. Bane did, and he growled low and long, red-eying the bodyguards and freezing them in place. Dimi shrank in his seat.
“Aww! Thanks for the sweet words, Dimi. That’s gonna cost you another five percent.” She kissed both his cheeks and sashayed away.
Bane snatched Dimi out of his booth and brought the bastard close enough to whisper in his hairy ear. “Speak to her that way again and you will be in pieces. That also goes for touching anything other than her hand. Understand?”
Bane shook Dimi until his head bobbled. That was enough of an affirmation. He dropped the man back onto his seat and was at Scarla’s back a second later. She was none the wiser to his manhandling of her employer.
A deafening roar came from the crowd. Scarla paused, and strained to see over the humans. Bane wasn’t interested, but then she veered into the thick of the crowd. He thought about leaving her, the press of so many humans strained his control. Only in the shadows did he find comfort, and he had to see Amaya. Each passing hour the need to touch her increased.
“Oh my.” Scarla gasped in a tone he’d never heard from her—awe.
He pushed his way through the masses to join her near the edge of the crowd and was momentarily dumbstruck by the man rising in the middle of the cage, his opponent a twitching mess at his feet. He was shirtless, dressed only in leather gloves, pants, boots, and a mask that covered his features, yet left his hair free and his eyes visible.
“Who is next to face the champion?” The announcer yelled through a bullhorn.
At the edge of the haphazard ring, Bane flexed his power. The UnHallowed stiffened from his lazy slouch and slowly panned the room. His red-rimmed gaze landed on Bane, and stayed. Beside him, Scarla hiccupped.
“Is that—Is he—I mean he is—”
“UnHallowed?” From his six foot six shaggy, greasy, mane of blue black hair to the black boots “Yes, he is.” Bane finished.
“Who? Which one?” Scarla grabbed his arm.
He yanked free and shoved the rest of the people out of his way. Gadreel, Bane spoke through a private link. The UnHallowed tipped his head in greeting. What the fuck are you doing?
Having fun.
More like sliding into insanity.
Gadreel shrugged. We all have our moments.
And yours could kill us all.
We all die at some point.
Not us, Gadreel.
A flaw in the design.
These humans are no match for you.
Their problem. Not mine.
Gadreel. Bane growled. He’d never known this UnHallowed to be so…contrary. Gadreel was a loner. One who never mingled with what he’d considered primates of the lowest form.
I haven’t killed any of these fools. Nor maimed. They have all survived an encounter with a demonic angel and are none the wiser for it.
Bane gritted his teeth. It was almost as if Gadreel knew of his encounter with Dimi, overheard his thoughts, and used them against him.
No harm. No foul. Gadreel continued. Now leave me to my minor pursuits of fleeting happiness and I leave you to yours. His gaze shifted to the left where Scarla stood beside Bane, oblivious to the conversation.
Bane tilted his head in her direction. She has changed much since you last saw her.
Gadreel’s gaze widened and swept down Scarla’s body. Yes. She. Has.
That note in Gadreel’s voice had Bane taking a harder look at him.
Scarla elbowed Bane in the ribs. “What are you two saying? Are you talking about me?” she hissed and elbowed him again.
“Anyone? Anyone at all?” The announcer yelled. He made his way to Bane. “What about you? I bet you could take our champion on.”
Gadreel tipped his head in invitation.
Bane knew what his skill set was, and in no way was it close to Gadreel’s, the former Archangel of Weapons. Once, he could control all weapons fashioned by mankind. Now, he was a weapon, and impervious to harm, but with one key flaw. So why the hell did he have his shirt off? Bane shook his head. He wouldn’t be fighting Gadreel tonight, or any night if he could help it.
Gadreel threw back his head and laughed.
“I’ll do it.” A male pushed his way through the crowd. For a human, he was impressive. Equal in height to Gadreel with slightly more muscle mass. It wouldn’t make a difference.
This would have to be reported to Michael.
Bane didn’t like being a snitch, playing both sides. He was doing what was best for his kind, regardless of what the UnHallowed would do to him if they ever found out. He took Scarla by the elbow and pulled her away from the ring.
“Let’s go.”
For a moment, she fought his hold, then fell into step beside him. They exited the underground club, under surveillance from cameras in every corner. He could’ve blocked the cameras by pulling the shadows to them, but Scarla hated traveling through the conduits. They had no affinity for her human half. They rode the elevator two stories up to the ground floor, marched past the uniformed guards and into the crisp fall air streaming through the deserted streets. He led her back to her Mercedes S Class Coupe, made sure the car started and she was buckled, then said, “I’m going on patrol.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’m going straight home.”
Unusual for Scarla since the night was still young. Bane didn’t question her. He wasn’t up for the lecture about a woman’s prerogative and how she could take care of herself. Scarla was prickly that way, but he did watch her drive away and waited an extra five minutes in case she doubled back. She was sneaky that way too.
Bane entered the shadows a moment later. He manipulated the conduits back to the farm and exited in the field in front of the porch. Amaya sat on the swing, swaying back and forth. Her hair was loose and waving in a steady breeze like stalks of summer wheat. The corners of her lips were upturned, as if enjoying a private joke. Was she remembering their encounter?
Damn, she was lovely with her chin tilted up and her head dropped back, as if she enjoyed the night air caressing her golden skin.
She jumped and sat up. “Oh! You’re back.”
He hadn’t realized he was on the porch until she spoke. “Yes. Umm…” He lost his power to speak as he stared into her muddy green eyes. Now that he knew how stunning her eyes were, he hated those fucking contacts more than ever. “I’m sorry I left—”
“It’s cool. Don’t worry about it. I’m heading into the city for some fun. I’ll be back in the morning.” She stood, moved around him, and bounced down the stairs as if they were casual acquaintances and nothing had happened between them.
“Amaya.”
She spun and gave him a smile so bright he swore his skin tingled from the burn.
“Yeah?” She canted her head to the side and dropped her hands on her hips.
“We should talk, shouldn’t we?”
She shrugged. “About what?”
About what happened between us, he opened his mouth to say…and slowly closed it. If he could get out of this unscathed, then he would take it. Shouldn’t he? “Nothing.”
Amaya’s smile seemed brittle around the edges. “Okay.” She slapped his arm in a friendly gesture and jogged to her car. “Nite Nite.”
Bane didn’t move until she slammed her car door, the engine revved and she drove away.