FORTY-FIVE
Later that night, Jo dreamed.
She’d fallen asleep in a guesthouse bed, her limbs tangled with Rune’s; yet now she found herself in a dank cell, beaten and bloodied after a session with Magh and her torturers.
This had happened to Rune, was another of his memories. . . .
He stared at the ceiling of his cell. Anything that bitch wanted of him, she’d gotten, changing and reshaping him so many times he thought he would break.
Now she was breaking his body over and over in this putrid hell.
She’d just finished with him. “You will surrender your pride, cur.” She hung up the whip she favored. “I won’t rest until you beg for my mercy.” Each time he refused, she set her demon guards upon him.
Tonight they’d broken his right leg; the jagged end of his femur jutted through his skin. Two ribs breached his flesh as well. His hands were bound behind his back, so he couldn’t use runes to heal himself. “Shouldn’t a lowly whore be beneath a queen’s notice?” he bit out, spitting black blood in her direction. “But I now know why you visit me each night. You believe if you could only make me grovel, you could shake your desire for me. Then you’d stop fantasizing about me when you’re fucking others.”
Rage flashed in her eyes. “Tomorrow night will not go so well for you, cur. I’m going to bring out the pincers. . . .”
For hours after she and the guards had gone, Rune stared at the ceiling in agony, muttering his usual prayer: “Gods give me the power to destroy that bitch, and the entire royal house—”
“And what if we did?” a grating voice interrupted.
Rune jerked his head around to find a stranger in the shadows. The male’s face was indistinct, but his eyes were dark, like bottomless pits.
“We?” Rune attempted to sit up against the wall, choking back his pain. “Are you one . . . among the gods?”
The towering male crossed to stand outside the cell, far closer than most did. “I’m one among the number five. In time, I’ll be one among the number twelve. I’m known as Orion.”
“Why are you talking to me? You must not know who I am.”
This Orion merely stared, his expression unreadable.
“I’m Rune. I’ve been a whore for centuries.” He nodded down at his body. “Presently, I’m Magh’s favorite whipping boy.”
“I’ve come to this place for you,” Orion said. “Now answer the question, archer.”
Archer? “If you gave me the power to destroy her and all her line?”
“Would your resolve never falter?”
This being had no idea! Gritting his fangs, Rune fought to stand. Though one of his legs was shattered, he managed to rise on the other. “Never.”
Orion stepped back to inspect the cell door.
“The bars and cell are mystically reinforced,” Rune said between ragged breaths. “No being can break—”
The door flew open.
Rune’s jaw slackened. “How did you do that?”
“The universe is inundated with weaknesses, archer.” Orion entered the cell. With another wave of his hand, he freed Rune’s manacles.
No time for shock. Rune pierced a finger for blood, then began to draw healing symbols on his leg.
As Orion gazed on with interest, Rune told him, “I had to relearn these when patrons got too rough.” The magicks mended skin and knitted bones. Experience had taught him how to manipulate the bones to facilitate the healing.
His broken arm was next. Orion waited patiently until Rune’s body was restored, then said, “Why don’t you make your farewells to Sylvan, archer?”
“I’m not an archer,” Rune said. “If you freed me because you believe that, I appreciate the mistake, but I won’t pay for it.”
“You will be an archer.”
If you say so. Rune had never picked up a bow in all his life. Still, there was something so mesmerizing about the male. As if Orion saw secrets Rune could never know without him.
Orion said, “Upon your taste of triumph, return to me, and you’ll know still more. Lifetimes of it.”
After lifetimes of failures?
Rune didn’t have time to argue. No one had ever escaped this dungeon; Magh would never expect him. She might not have blocked off the secret tunnel leading to her chambers. If he could defeat her personal guard, she’d be helpless.
Like a crazed animal, he traced to the tunnel. It was unsealed? Such hubris!
With each foot closer to his target, Rune grew more enraged. Tonight she would die. Her long immortal life would end.
Yet even in the midst of his fury, he kept thinking of the mysterious male in the dungeon. Rune could tell Orion hadn’t wanted to fuck him—or break him. So what was his interest? Why save someone like me?
Lifetimes of triumph? Rune craved that so badly, he shook.
First, vengeance. He set upon Magh’s guards. Moving so fast he was a blur, he used his fangs to tear out their throats before they could yell.
Inside the queen’s chamber, he gazed down at her slumbering form with revulsion. His sweat mixed with demon blood and dripped from his forehead, splatting her face.
She woke, eyes widening as she drew a breath to scream.
He snatched her by the throat, throttling her. “The monster you made has returned to its creator.” He traced her to his dam’s grave, then released her.
She rubbed her neck. “H-how did you get free? Did you offer sexual favors to a traitor?”
“Guard your tongue, Magh. Or I’ll take it from you.”
Her gaze darted to the burial mound. “What do you want from me?”
“Payment.”
Expression calculating, she stepped closer to him. “I can give you a castle filled with gold.”
“Think it will be that easy? How much are you offering for my mother’s life? For the centuries you forced me to whore?” Every dawn, to be under that sword . . .
“And you obviously loved it!” she hissed. “Offered freedom, you still preferred to mate creatures for coin.”
“Loved? As you love to torture me? You’re maddened with desire for your whipping boy, and it guts you!”
The truth was there on her face.
“If you harm me, my offspring will avenge me,” she told him. “Saetthan will take your head with his ancestors’ sword. The last thing you’ll know is Titanian steel.”
“No. Because I’m going to hunt down your spawn and all of theirs. Saetthan will fall like the others.”
“That’s your plan? My heirs are guarded far better than I was. Most live in other dimensions. How will you find them?”
“One—at—a—time.”
She swallowed. “Will you murder me first? Burying me here?”
“Pollute my mother’s grave site with your foul body? Never.”
Confusion. “Then what?”
“I thought about taking a like retribution. Selling you into whoredom, and watching customers brutalize a former queen. They’d pay extra for you to wear your crown,” he said, relishing her look of horror. He’d always envisioned centuries of revenge on her. Yet that would take time and involve risk.
A stray thought arose: Orion awaits, promising triumph. “Instead, I’m going to give you what you’ve always needed and secretly wanted.”
“And what is that?”
“My kiss.”
True terror shone in her eyes. He yanked her closer. She tried to turn away, but he was far too strong.
His kiss was cold as ash. As deadly as flame. . . .
Jo woke in shock, gasping a breath. Rune had endured that torture? Surviving it?
For ages, Magh had claimed his last kiss. The lips that brought Jo pleasure brought others doom.
Good. She was glad he’d gotten his revenge on that bitch! Jo’s satisfaction faded when she recalled what she’d learned.
Earlier, Rune had confessed Magh had sold him, only to buy him back for torture. But he hadn’t only been a slave; that queen had forced him into sexual slavery.
Jo remembered him asking her in bed, “Were you a pleasure slave?” There’d been a hopeful note to his tone. When she’d told him she was a protector of prostitutes, he’d tensed.
She put her hands over her face. She’d called his home a whorehouse weekender.
Cheeks burning, she sat up and stared at him sleeping. Pre-dawn light filtered in through a window, lovingly painting her dark fey. His face was relaxed, calling to her. His head was turned, his hair fallen back to reveal the side of his shaved scalp and his ear. It twitched. Even in sleep, he’s listening for enemies.
Her heart ached at the thought. Had he never known peace? She hoped Orion had given him the triumphs he’d promised.
She would have to confess these memories to Rune soon. But he and Jo had come so far, even over the last day. How would he react knowing she’d discovered his innermost secrets?
She exhaled a long breath. Wanting only to comfort him, she gazed over his body. He was hard beneath the cover.
He needed; she wanted to give. She might not be able to deliver peace, but she could deliver pleasure.
Mission accomplished, Jo thought when she heard Rune whistling from the nearby washroom.
They’d just shared a brief, lukewarm shower after “breakfast.” As she waited for him to finish shaving, she dragged clothes from her bag.
She’d only intended to give him a blowjob, was kissing the tip when he’d awakened. “I was just dreaming of this very thing,” he’d said in a sleep-roughened voice. “Does my beautiful girl want her breakfast?”
He’d maneuvered her body until she straddled his mouth at the same time. Between kisses, he’d commanded her to feed.
After she’d come till her vision was blurry and he’d released so hard his heels had planted into the mattress, she’d tried to crawl off him, but he’d smacked her ass. In a surly tone, he’d growled, “Want my breakfast too,” then he’d lazily licked and nuzzled until her toes had curled. . . .
Despite her recent cataclysmic orgasms, lust kicked in yet again. How was she going to hold out from having sex with him?
When he’d worked his fingers inside her, telling her how badly he wanted his cock to replace them, she’d wanted it too.
After her dreams, she didn’t know if he would ever commit to her, mate or not, considering what he’d suffered in the past. But she did know she could never share him.
She’d just finished dressing when he returned with a towel around his waist and a wide grin. Could he be any finer? “Somebody’s in a good mood.”
“A stunning hybrid woke me with head and rode my mouth. I’m in a great mood.” He dropped his towel, reaching for his clothes. “I’m going to have to insist on breakfast in bed every day.”
As he pulled his leather pants up his long muscular legs, she followed the movements of his shaft until he tucked it away. “Roger that.”
“Did you wake hungry or horny?” He drew a fitted gray shirt over his head.
“Actually neither. I just wanted to make you feel good.”
He frowned, as if this didn’t compute. He sat on the bed and beckoned her with a crooked finger. “You’re going to have to explain this to me.” He dragged her onto his lap. “Will I have to get you drunk first?”
She laid her palms on his face and tenderly kissed his lips. When she pulled back, his brows were drawn.
“Little female, you say a lot with your kiss. But I don’t understand the language—”
A boom of thunder sounded, shaking the guesthouse.
They shared a look.
“Nïx?” Jo bolted to her feet.
He ran out of the room like a bullet. She was right behind him. The sun was creeping up over the horizon, rays striking clouds and sparkling off the new snow.
With his hunter’s eye, he surveyed the area and pointed to the highest terrace. “It came from the top.” He took a split second to grab Jo’s hand before he traced there, ever careful to have her on the mission.
The clouds might conceal them from humans. Didn’t matter at that moment. They both wanted Nïx dead so badly, they risked exposure.
None of the stragglers on the terrace had noticed Jo and Rune appearing, were too busy rubbing their eyes after what must’ve been a hellacious lightning strike.
Jo pivoted in place, didn’t spy the Valkyrie. “Do you scent her?”
He shook his head. “What is she up to?”
“Did she return to Val Hall?”
He checked his wrist. Dark.
A monk padded out of the teahouse, heading straight toward them. With a welcoming smile, he handed them a note. He spoke in Chinese, but Jo made out “Nïx” a couple of times.
Thanking the man, Rune accepted the parchment, and the monk bowed and walked away.
“Another clue?” Rune ripped open the envelope. “The Valkyrie plays with us. She’s digging her own grave.” He skimmed the note.
“And?” Jo asked.
“And now we go to Rio.”