Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) (25 page)

The armoire’s door bounced off the walls as I yanked it open with the force of my rage. It was full of gowns in heavy wool and fur. I jerked one out and carried it back over with me. Tossing the gown to her, I stepped back, dragging Saeran with me. He didn’t fight my hold as I urged him away from the frightened girl. She had a dangerous look in her eye, as if she’d been backed into a corner with nothing left to lose. I didn’t want to see what she’d do if she felt any more threatened than she already was.

“How bad is he?” I asked.

“Bad,” Dean said, stepping up beside the bed. “He reeks of death.”

“If we can save him, you will be indebted to us,” I growled.

Milagra stared up at me with the first signs of hope in her dark eyes. “Anything,” she whispered. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“You’ll take us to Likho, you won’t stop us, and you’ll escort us from the castle back to the portal into the human world,” I ordered.

“As you wish, just save Konstantin, please.”

Dean stepped up beside me, the heat from his body and power caressed me as if he had run a hand down my back. Trembling at the sensation of desire running rampant through me, tightening things low in my body, I almost purred with delight. I wanted to be home.

“If you betray us . . .” Dean growled. The woman got to her feet, unsteady and precarious on shaky legs. She hovered possessively next to the bed where her Cossack lay. “. . . I’ll give you to her,” Dean finished, pointing at me.

I smiled at her, a virulent grin that never reached my eyes. I let her see all the cold lethality and stark power that had given me the name The Blushing Death.

Sliding Gladi home into the scabbard down my back, the sound of the ancient steel sliding smoothly into leather made me giddy with delight. I made sure the Ewen blade was secure at my thigh and turned to Cordero Salazan’s long-lost daughter. “Take me to Likho.”

Chapter 28

“Come in,” a booming voice called, filling the silent hall with menace. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Chills ran up my spine like tiny needles piercing my vertebrae. Squaring my shoulders, I forced the needles back and lifted my chin in the air. Concentrating on slowing my heart rate, I hardened my expression to give nothing away.

A man I could only assume was Likho sat in his throne across the great hall with a satisfied smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. I let the cold peace of death spread through me and cleared my mind of all the fear, exhaustion, and pain I’d been carrying through this wasteland for what seemed like days.

Dean growled a low intense threat in the back of his throat at the shift in my demeanor. His heat brushed over me, trying to chase the chill of death away. I shoved back with my own energy to clear the wolf from my mind. This was part of me, death . . . life. They resided in me as one. The scorch of Dean’s power ebbed as his wolf calmed, accepting me for what and who I was.

“He may not know what Dahlia is yet,” Saeran whispered.

“Why are you being so helpful now?” I hissed.

“I would like us all to return alive.” Saeran bowed slightly and turned his gaze back to the monster on the dais.

Dean stepped in front of me, followed by Saeran, a veritable wall of obnoxious testosterone to block me from Likho’s view. Suddenly, fear crept through me like a hundred gigantic beetles crawling up my arms. My stomach churned and my muscles turned to rubber. My palms grew moist, and I squeezed the butt of the gun just a bit tighter to keep my hands from trembling.

“Let’s get this show over with,” I said. “I’m ready to go home.”

Milagra stepped in front of us, leading our party into an oversized cavern of a room. The ceilings were at least twenty feet high and every noise echoed; our footsteps, our heavy breathes, and the thundering of our hearts.

Surrounded by pristine white stone, soft orange glow from the torches lining the walls glimmered. A Cossack, in full garb, was stationed on either side of each archway. Two other entryways beside the one we stood framed lined the room. Two additional Cossacks in rich red coats flanked an oversized onyx throne.

I ran my gaze over the entire room, taking in the whole space. There was a familiar chill in the air. A diminished pulse of frigid power licked at my skin, sending gooseflesh scattering across my body.

“Patrick,” I gasped.

Dean growled, his hand reaching behind his back, clasping mine tight to hold me back.

I peeked between Dean and Saeran’s joint shoulders and held back the scream lodged in my throat. Sitting in the throne on a three-foot dais was what I could only describe as a monster. The man I had originally seen had disappeared, replaced with a thing of nightmares. The creature was covered in thick dark fur with one gigantic eye. Its blood-red iris seemed to peer straight through them to my very core. Sharp, jagged teeth, dripping with saliva, filled its mouth. Yellowed horns that I assumed had once been white sprouted from his head, growing like curved fangs just above his ears. Standing three or four inches above the fur line, the tips gleamed sharp. The beast was enormous, three times the size of Dean, who was 6’5”, give or take.

Behind the monster, hanging from the wall, Patrick dangled. His head bowed and his shoulders slumped. A sword plunged deep into his chest, through his heart. His body was limp and the smell of burnt flesh filled my nose.

“Patrick!” I couldn’t hold back the terror in my being as the world around me stopped.

He raised his head, his body trembling with the effort. His skin was sallow, his clothes tattered and dirty with things I didn’t want to imagine. His dark hair was caked with grime and thicker sludge, plastering his hair to his head. His dark eyes met mine and his emotions opened up to me, flooding me with despair, warning, and regret. My chest tightened in anguish with the flood of his emotions and I gasped.

“Ah, Milagra, I see you have escorted our guests to us,” the beast said in a deep, gravel-filled voice. “What else have you brought me?”

“As promised,” Milagra said. Her voice was strong and firm, belying the stiffness in her shoulders and the ripple of tension making the muscles in her back jump. “I present Saeran, King of Faerie and the Seelie Court.” She met Saeran’s gaze and said, “And my adoptive father.”

“Yes, yes. But who do we have there hiding behind the Kingling?” Likho asked with a sly lilt to his voice.

“His escorts,” she bit out. She strode across the floor in long sure steps before stepping up beside him.

“Escorts? Is this the famed Blushing Death I keep hearing so much about?” the beast grumbled.

“No,” Dean snarled, forcing his power out, scorching the already heavy air with his heat. The beast chuckled, seemingly unfazed by Dean’s show of power. Slipping my hands between Saeran and Dean’s shoulders, I shoved both men aside and stepped forward, presenting myself like a prize. Sometimes I was incredibly stupid. Even I knew it, but I had to get Patrick down. His energy was a soft trickle of icy sting. Not the man I knew him to be. Forcing my shoulders back, I gave Likho my best cold stare.

“Is this little thing your precious Blushing Death, Mr. Cavanaugh?” he asked, scorn and mockery thick in his graveled voice.

I reached deep inside myself for the peace I knew lived there, beyond the deep growling rumble of my Eithina and the rancid fear of instinct, to the very pit of my soul where the killer lived. I gathered my energy around me—the essence of who and what I was. I drew on Patrick’s energy, swirling the chill of death with everything else, entangling it with Dean’s scorching heat. Stepping closer to the dais where the beast sat licking his bottom lip, I expanded my own magic, letting it radiate through the room.

The beast sat back in his throne, watching me with his one blood red eye. The magic around me sizzled and pulsed, alive and a dangerous smile curved my lips.

“I’ve come to kill you.”

“Have you, little girl?” it said, amused. “I doubt that. Not when I hold the life of Mr. Cavanaugh in my grasp,” Likho purred. “I’d hoped to catch Saeran and take back Faerie,” he said with a careful eye on me, “but I think I’ve found something much better.”

“He looks fine to me,” I snapped, dangling my fingers at my side, ready to draw Gladi at my back.

“Looks can be deceiving,” he said. Reaching down at his side, he retrieved a small wooden box from between his giant thigh and the arm of the throne.

“What is that?” My voice was small, echoing in the large room. I knew everyone heard the fear in my voice as it shook.

“Why, Mr. Cavanaugh’s heart, of course,” he offered as the corners of his cracked black lips curled up into a malicious grin, exposing row upon row of yellowed rotting teeth.

I reached for Gladi, drawing the sword faster than I’d ever drawn her before. The Cossack guards around the room stepped forward from the wall in one thunderous step. Behind me, the sound of sabers being drawn from scabbards made me cringe as the chill from the shrill sound chased the fear up the back of my neck.

“Put it back,” I barked, fear making my tone sharp.

“You’ll have to earn it back,” he chirped, entirely too pleased with himself.

“How?” I asked, suddenly desperate but still skeptical. Fear, both mine and Patrick’s, filled my being, making me cold from the inside out.

“Dahlia!” Dean snarled behind me.

Patrick’s eyes never left mine. No matter how mad or hurt I was by what he’d done, I couldn’t leave him in Likho’s hands. I couldn’t let him suffer when I could stop it. I loved him. Even if he was a shit. He was
my
shit and no one was going to make him regret anything but me, damn it!

“How?” I repeated, my jaw tight and my grip deadly on Gladi.

“You can fight for it,” Likho answered, a hungry glint in his eyes.

“If you want to lose a shit ton of guards, I’d be happy to oblige,” I snorted, glancing around the room. At the moment, I could’ve killed each and every one of them and more with a smile on my face for what Patrick had suffered. And I could feel in my bones that he’d suffered. What exactly? I couldn’t sense, he was shielding that much from me, but the deep ache resonating in my bones and in Patrick’s tandem spirit let me know just how much he had suffered.

“Oh no, my dear, you misunderstand. You will not be fighting my guards.”

“Then who?”

Milagra met my eyes for a moment and then dropped them to the floor. Striding up to Patrick, she wrapped her petite fingers around the hilt of the sword and yanked it from his body and the wall behind him.

Patrick fell to the floor in a crumpled heap of limp flesh. I took a hesitant step forward and then stopped as Likho smiled at me, exposing the hundreds of sharp shark-like teeth.

“I don’t understand,” Saeran said behind me. “You can’t use either of them if they’re dead.”

“I don’t need both. The parasite has proven stronger than I thought. I need to evaluate The Blushing Death before I can decide properly. Let’s see how badly Mr. Cavanaugh wants his heart back and how badly she wants him to have it.”

Patrick got to his feet, brushing at his clothes as if he was stepping from a limo in a tuxedo. I couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of my mouth as he threw his shoulders back and stepped across the dais on steady sure legs. I glanced down as he moved, watching the skin and tissue where the sword had punctured his chest remake itself over the wound. For a brief moment, the cavity where his heart had been was visible and my chest tightened as the remembered pain of Danny’s death ripped through me. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

He strode across the floor, his steps lithe and determined.

I slid the Gladius down my back and into its sheath. I wasn’t going to run him through. Patrick’s dark, intense gaze bore into me, making my body react to the cold chill of power creeping up my spine. Before I could say hello, he reached out and struck me. His open palm streaked across my cheek, making the flesh along my face throb.

“You arrogant
bastard
!” I shouted, regaining my footing. The sound of my voice echoed across the high ceiling as I slammed my hands into his chest and shoved him back.

Patrick’s dark eyes shined with violence as he turned back to me.

He was too quick.

Before I could adjust to the idea of fighting him, his fist slammed into my jaw. My mouth flooded with blood and my head snapped to the side with the force of his blow but I didn’t go down. Running my tongue over my teeth, I licked the blood from them, tasting its sweet metallic tang. If he wanted a fight, I’d give him a damned fight. I spit out the blood in my mouth and turned with malice curling my lips up.

Dean’s power behind me percolated, heating my skin and prickling along my edges. He backed away, giving us room.

“We have to stop this,” Saeran said behind me.

“Let ‘em go. They know what they’re doing,” Dean answered.

“You stupid sonovabitch,” I snarled at Patrick through my clenched and throbbing jaw.

“Are you ready for this,
sweetheart
?” he taunted in the same patronizing tone he’d used since I got back.

I was tired of it. I couldn’t stop myself and I didn’t want to as my fist shot out and slammed into his smug face.

“Oh yeah!” I said. “I’m ready.”

He roared in frustration, the sound echoing through the room was dangerous. Swinging at me, his fist connected with my shoulder as I dodged his strike to my face.

I jabbed my foot out, kicking him in the ribs, connecting with the hard lines of his athletic body. He sucker punched me to the solar plexus and air left my lungs in a sharp exhale as his fist sank into my gut. I continued to move, slamming an upper cut to his chin.

The last time we’d fought in Ethan’s office, Patrick had held back, probably because I was human and he hadn’t wanted to hurt me. What he didn’t realize was that I was human again, thanks to Baba Yaga. He wasn’t holding back, not knowing that he should. And whether he wanted to hurt me or not, the damage was already done. Each strike of his fist was like a wrecking ball slamming into my soft tissue. He stepped forward again and again, punching me in the gut, my face, and any surface of my body he could connect with. I ducked and struck back, sinking my punch into his gut but he had me on the defensive.

My back hit the wall and I was out of options. Grabbing my shoulders, he slammed me back into the wall and I gasped for air. My head bounced off the slick white stone. Pain exploded behind my eyes, a throbbing blunt pain, and I fought to keep my eyes from crossing. He lifted me from the ground and my feet dangled above the stone floor. Holding me there, suspended as I tried to focus through the pain exploding in every muscle I had, he met my slowly focusing gaze.

I was in his complete control, and for the first time, I was scared of what he might do.

He slammed me again into the wall until blackness crept in around the edges of my vision. It wasn’t stars exactly but I knew I couldn’t take much more or I’d lose consciousness.

“Patrick,” I whispered begging for relief.

Finally, he stopped long enough for me to focus and my brain to stop rattling inside my skull. His face was battered and bruised from my fists but it was clearing up quickly. Mine wasn’t.

Blood colored his teeth as he snarled at me from only inches away. His fangs glistened in the low light as his fingers dug into the flesh of my biceps painfully. My hands tingled with the broken bones and loss of circulation. Panting, his chest heaved as he stared at me. His dark eyes bore into mine with confusion, anger, and pain.

“You hurt me,” he growled through gritted teeth. I knew he wasn’t talking about the physical pain of our fight.

“We hurt each other,” I whispered. Tears stung behind my eyes, soaking my lashes and trailing a hot line down my dirty, bloody cheek. “I never meant to hurt you,” I whispered.

His fingers were strong around my arms and his body shook with the emotions he didn’t want me to sense. He’d shut the walls between us as the fight began but the hurt, the betrayal, and the desperation leaked from him like from a sieve. Patrick closed his eyes, leaning into me. Pressing his forehead against mine, he breathed deep.