Anew: Book Two: Hunted (33 page)

Amelia

A
s Ian comes toward
me, I begin to shake. The look in his eyes…what he’s carrying…the verbal
sparring between him and Davos that I’ve just witnessed without being able to
hear. They all fill me with confusion rapidly being crowded out by terror.

What is he going to do? What is about to happen to me? Who
is this man who seems so at ease amid such depraved surroundings?

From the moment he announced that we were going to attend
Carnival, I’ve known that something was wrong. He’s not himself. He’s changed
in some way. I have no idea what to expect from him but I do know that he can
hurt me badly. My emotions are already bruised and battered. Will my body be
next?

The thought fills me with horror. For a sickening moment,
I’m afraid that I’m about to vomit. I’m on the verge of breaking down entirely
when common sense comes to the rescue. I
know
who Ian is. He is the man
who awakened me to the world and then set me free. The man who, even though his
heart still calls out to a dead woman, has walked into his worst nightmare to
save me.

The panic rising in me vanishes. I take a deep breath as my
body stills. By the time Ian reaches the foot of the steps leading up to where
I’m standing, I’m as ready as I can be.

Without a word, he holds out his hand. Without a word, I
take it. Curling my fingers around his, I step down from the pedestal. When I
reach the bottom, our bodies brush against one another. I feel the heat
radiating from his. He is not remotely as calm as he appears.

So softly that only I can hear him, he pleads, “Please,
Amelia, trust me. I’ll get you out of here but you have to do as I say.”

This close, I can see that his eyes are filled with dread
that I might refuse. Belatedly, I realize that he has no way of knowing why I
left the hotel suite so precipitously. He may even assume that I was
embarrassed or otherwise upset by what happened between us. If only I had been,
I might be the woman he calls out to rather than Susannah.

That is too paradoxical for me to think about, especially
under the circumstances. Instead of trying, I make an instant decision to trust
him, at least with my own safety. His is another matter. I want to tell him
that I won’t leave without him but Davos is staring at us. All I can do is nod.

Ian leads me over to the cross beside the quietly sobbing
young woman. He sets me against it but makes no move to secure the restraints.
Instead, he steps over and undoes hers.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he says casually to Davos. “She’s
in the way.”

The silver-haired monster frowns but he doesn’t object as
the woman darts off. He’s waiting to see what Ian will do next. Some of those
among the writhing mass of bodies scattered across the floor and furniture of
the room are beginning to do the same. Slowly, awareness spreads that a new
show is about to begin.

Ian returns to me, his body brushing once more against mine
in a move that is unmistakably intended to reassure. His hands grip my
shoulders lightly. As they do, the coils of the whip rests for a moment against
my breasts.

“Breathe,” he says and removes my cloak.

A ripple of excitement goes through the audience as men I
have met at the Opera House and the Polo Club, and at various soirees and
charity galas recognize me. For a brief moment, I wonder if, now that I am no
longer an anonymous woman, any of them will protest or otherwise intervene on
my behalf.

None does and I realize quickly that I shouldn’t be
surprised. These are the Lords of Misrule, men so perverted by power that they
have lost all touch with what it truly means to be human. If they were ever
capable of empathy, compassion, or even simple decency, they aren’t any longer.

Ian tosses the cloak aside and takes several steps back,
leaving me standing alone in front of the cross. At the slightest motion of his
wrist, the whip uncoils, its long, sinuous length seeming to come alive. I
stifle a gasp and only just manage to hold myself still.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” Davos interjects.

Ian flicks the whip as though testing how it feels in his
hand. Without taking his eyes from it, he says, “If you’re referring to the
fact that she’s unrestrained, no, I haven’t. Where is she going to run to?”

Davos doesn’t look entirely convinced but he gestures for
Ian to continue. I ponder the answer to that question. Ian must have a plan. If
I can figure it out, I might be able to help. Between us and the entrance to
the club are several dozen guests and at least as many of the faceless
servants. We could get past some of them but surely not all. And that’s without
even considering Davos’ goons. They must be nearby, probably spread throughout
the building.

Caught up in my thoughts of escape--and of keeping Ian safe
while doing so--I jump suddenly as the whip flicks past. It doesn’t come close
to striking me but the sudden sight of it is nonetheless electrifying. So is
the sound that follows. The crack reverberates through the air. Anyone in the
room who wasn’t paying attention is now. Although the women continue dutifully
to suck and grind, their eyes and those of all the men are on us.

Ian lets the moment drag out, coiling the whip again,
extending it slowly, and then--

Crack!

My whole body jerks. That was closer!

Lazily, he draws the whip up once more. It dangles from his
hand as he strides toward me. I can’t help but contrast the grace of his
movements with the ugliness of his actions. My breath is coming in short,
shallow pants as he leans closer so that only I can hear.

“Two more, each closer. It’s okay to look scared but
whatever you do, don’t move or I could hurt you.” The raw horror in his eyes
leaves no doubt how he feels about any such possibility. Huskily, he adds, “On
the third, be ready to do as I tell you.”

Numbly, I nod. My gaze flits to Davos. His smile chills me.
He must be taking my silent agreement for proof of my submissiveness. I long
for a chance to show him otherwise. My own capacity for violence surprises me.

Even with all my resolve, I only just manage not to flinch
as the whip lashes out again. I feel the ripple in the air as it goes past me
mere inches from my exposed breast. The second comes even closer. I’m not hurt
in any way but some part of my brain doesn’t get that. It’s screaming at me to
run.

 “Are you sufficiently warmed up now?” Davos calls out.
His voice is taunting, his intent to goad.

Ian merely shrugs. “I think so.”

“Good, make the next one count. I want to see blood.”

Ian’s mouth tightens. He holds the whip for a moment, the long,
sinuous tongue coiled and waiting. I can’t look away from it or from him. The
blood Davos is so eager for feels frozen in my veins. I marvel that the man
can’t see what is plain in Ian’s eyes. The deadly rage, the fierce will, the
merciless intent.

Several things happen all at once. Ian’s arm moves in a
gesture that is both controlled and graceful. For an instant, I see him engaged
in a particularly savage and lethal dance. Moving within it, he pivots away
from me and takes several steps forward The whip releases, the lash slashes
through the air…

…and curls unerringly around Davos’ throat, a tentacle
swiftly grabbing hold of him and squeezing hard. He bolts to his feet, grasping
the leather with both hands and tries to scream but his air is already being
cut off.

Turning to me, Ian speaks with calm urgency. “To your left,
there’s a door behind a wooden screen. Take it, go down the hall. You’ll see
steps that lead to a tunnel. If Hollis doesn’t have men there already, he will
soon. They’ll get you to safety.”

Distantly, I’m aware that the Lords of Misrule are lumbering
to their feet, shouting at one another and the servants. But all I can really
see is Davos, slowly strangling, and Ian who shows no sign of leaving with me.

“What about you?” I demand. Dread fills me. He’s big, he’s
powerful, and he’s highly trained. But he’s only one man and aside from his own
body, the only weapon he has is already in use choking the life out of Davos.

Ian stares at me as though I’ve taken leave of my senses.
“For God’s sake, Amelia, stop talking and go!”

“Not without you!”

The fury he turns on me should make me quake but I’m way
past that. I refuse to so much as blink.

“I mean it, Ian! We go together or I stay right here. You
decide but--” I glance at the men who are moving toward us. They’re naked or
nearly so, drunk or high or both, and frankly disgusting. But in the
collective, they’re also dangerous. “Do it fast!” I implore.

His curses blister the air. With a final yank on the whip,
he sends Davos crashing to his knees. Ian drops the hilt and grabs me. His hand
grips my arm almost to the point of pain but I scarcely feel it. Relief courses
through me in the instant before the harsh reality of our situation crashes
down. Some of the men and servants have stopped to help Davos. Several are
trying frantically to unwind the whip that is cutting deep into his throat. But
others are coming after us.

Ian yanks open the door behind the wooden screen and thrusts
me through it. He pulls the screen behind us and jams it under the knob, baring
the way if only temporarily.

“Go!” he orders and grabs my hand. Together, we run down a
hallway lined with old, empty offices and the smell of abandonment until we
reach the staircase at the far end. The steps are metal that rattles under our
feet. Below I see darkness lit by flickers of light from ventilation shafts.

When we reach the bottom, my heart is pounding. I only just
manage to gasp, “Where are we?”

“Under what used to be the old stacks,” Ian says. He keeps
my hand gripped in his as we move quickly down the tunnel.

Before we’ve gone very far, the air turns chill and damp. I
can’t help shivering, especially as I realize how he must know about this
escape route. The thought of him as a young teen, trapped in the hell of his
father’s making and desperately seeking a way out, makes me tremble even more.

Ian stops at once and strips off his jacket. Instead of
laying it over my shoulders, he insists that I put it on. I comply quickly,
aware that precious seconds are passing.

As we start moving again, he blurts, “You are the most
maddening human being I have ever encountered.” The words sound forced from
him, as though the thought behind them can no longer be contained. He’s
exasperated, a man at a loss how to handle a situation he didn’t create or ask
for.

I’m not sure that he expects a response but I give him one
anyway. “You’ve got that backwards.” A tremor of dread goes through me as I
struggle not to think about what could have happened to him. “What was your
plan, stay and let them beat you to a pulp or worse while I escaped? That’s
insane.”

He throws me an as-if look. “I can take care of myself,
which is more than I can say for you.” A dark shadow moves behind his eyes.
Softly, he says, “You’re too damn vulnerable.”

His voice catches and I know what he’s thinking. My face
flames at the reminder of how wantonly I respond to him. But hard on that comes
a healthy wave of anger. I am far from the helpless creature he’s making me out
to be. It’s time we both acknowledge that.

“I am? What about you?” Before he can answer, I rush on.
“You knew that I wasn’t a safe person for you to be with. But you came back to
me at the Crystal Palace and afterward you opened up and let me in more and
more deeply. You can’t help yourself even though you’d much rather be with
Susannah.”

Ian stops again, suddenly. His expression is starkly
bewildered. “What are you talking about?” he demands.

The mere thought of saying
her
name feels like a
knife stabbing through me. I have to remind myself that even though Susannah
set all this in motion, she isn’t to blame for how it’s playing out. Ian and I
are each responsible for our own actions but I am, most particularly. In a
sense, I was made for him, designed to appeal to his deepest, darkest desires.
Far from making me helpless, that’s given me power over him. Even as he holds
fast to the memory of Susannah, he’s been unable to deny me except, sadly
enough, in his dreams.

Faintly, I say, “At the hotel, you were asleep. I think you
were having a nightmare. At least you sounded upset.”

His scowl is filled with apprehension, “What did I say?”

“You called out to her…pleading with her not to leave you.”
My voice breaks. Without thinking, I try to wrest my hand from his. But Ian
won’t let me go. On the contrary, he tightens his grip.

Staring at me intently, he asks, “I called out to Susannah?”

Numbly, I nod. I can’t look at him anymore. If I do, I will
break.

“
That’s
why you left?” He sounds incredulous.