Night's Darkest Embrace (9 page)

Jack began to talk.

CHAPTER TEN

I rode down the main street of Nocturna, not acknowledging the various mutterings from Partials on the sidewalk as I passed by.

“. . . didn’t I hear she was dead?”

“. . . Jack said Rafael killed her . . .”

“. . . sure doesn’t look dead, does she?”

But the lit skulls that marked the front of Bonecrushers were the only thing I focused my attention on. Every stride from the horse brought me closer, while a curious calm replaced my normal impatience. In so many ways, my journey for justice had started here, so it was fitting that it should end here.

I didn’t bother tethering the horse when I reached the corral, instead jumping down and leaving it to wander at will. Its former owner wouldn’t need it anymore, and soon someone else would claim it. Nothing valuable was wasted in Nocturna, and it was a fine horse.

“Heard you were dead, Mara,” a cool voice noted behind me. “You sure stink like death, but I don’t believe in zombies, so I guess Jack was full of shit about Rafael doing you in.”

I turned to face Billy, noting the burly Halfie looked pissed. Not that I blamed him. Jack had told me all about how he’d spread the word that Rafael was a Pureblood. Had even added a nice touch about how he’d watched in horror as the ruler of Nocturna had dragged me through a barrier for munching on later. As Rafael’s friend, Billy had a right to be mad, seeing me stroll around as though I hadn’t been instrumental in smearing Rafael’s name.

“I stink because I went through a sewage system,
again
, and if you want to help me catch some real Purebloods, I need you to do me a favor.”

Billy tugged on the end of his tattered leather jacket. “This better be good. I’m in no mood for bullshit games.”

I came nearer until we were close enough to kiss, but Billy didn’t flinch. He just stared at me with hard brown eyes.

“Oh, it’s good. I promise.”

Then I whispered what I needed him to do, waiting until I got a nod of confirmation before walking through the double doors into Bonecrushers.

Several heads turned, and mutterings swept through the crowd. Even the singer on stage paused in his rendition of the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Disarm” to stare at me. It seemed like everyone had heard the tale Jack had spread, but then again, such shocking charges against Rafael would travel at the speed of light. I was only relieved that my aunt and uncle hadn’t had the chance to tell their Partial friends about my initial, mistaken belief about Rafael. If I hadn’t used those gateways to cross back over right when I had, I would’ve been too late to stop the flow of information on that side.

I jumped onto the top of the nearest table, my new vantage point making it easy to see that the doors to Bonecrushers were now closed. Then, just in case anyone wasn’t paying attention, I fired two rounds into the ceiling.

“People, we have Purebloods hiding in Nocturna,” I called out loudly.

Various ominous rumblings sounded at that statement, punctuated by a few calls of “Rafael” and “Kill the fucking Pureblood!”

“I know what Jack told you about Rafael, but it’s not true,” I went on, still in that same ringing voice. “Rafael is
not
a Pureblood. Jack lied, and the reason he did is because he’s a Pureblood himself.”

An eruption of shouts followed this statement. I waited for the initial roar to die down before speaking again.

“In fact, there’s more—”

“Don’t believe her!” a voice screeched out. Heads swung toward the singer, who pointed his guitar at me. “She’s lying to cover for Rafael, so she must be a Pureblood like him!” he continued emphatically. “Jack’s been a trusted guard here for over a hundred years, but
she
just strolled in the past decade. You’re going to believe her over him? She also just
happened
to survive a Pureblood attack, when everyone knows no one survives those!”

I was once again the center of attention—this time, with a wave of animosity from the crowd that was palpable. Bonecrushers catered to the toughest, wildest Partials in Nocturna. If this crowd charged me, I’d be toast, even with my guns.

“Yes, I’m new here,” I called out, not showing the slightest sign of fear to incite them. “Yes, Jack’s been here for over a century, and yes, I survived a Pureblood attack when almost no one lives through those. In fact, I survived two of them. What are the odds of
that
, right? But let me prove who the real Purebloods are—”

The hole in the roof over the fire pit suddenly exploded with movement. Black wings fanned smoke and embers as Rachael burst through, dropping Jack’s bound form onto the top of the crowd. He bobbled for a second on various heads and shoulders before thudding to the ground when people scrambled to get out of the Fallen’s way as she landed beside him. A surge of patrons went for the doors, shouts ringing out when they found them blocked.
Thank you, Billy
, I said silently. I knew the Halfie could find a way to barricade them in time.

“Stop!” I yelled. “She’s with me!”

It might have been sheer amazement that slowed the mad scramble for the door, although a few people still tried to claw their way out. I only had seconds to make my point before chaos took over, so I hurried to continue.

“We all know Fallen feed off Purebloods.
Purebloods, not Partials.
If Jack isn’t a Pureblood, then that Fallen can’t steal the essence out of him.”

“Finally,” Rachael muttered before snatching Jack up. She ripped the duct tape off his mouth, but Jack didn’t even get the chance to scream before her lips sealed over his.

“Someone stop her!” the singer shouted.

No one moved toward Rachael. She had an empty circle around her that allowed for easier viewing as Jack thrashed in her arms, his eyes bulging in horror as she continued her deep, lethal kiss. After only a few seconds, he began to shudder, and then he went abruptly limp even as lights danced in an intricate pattern across Rachael’s lovely skin. She dropped Jack’s lifeless body to the floor as those lights on her skin ebbed, and then wiped her mouth almost daintily on a wing.

This was the second time I’d seen this in less than a day, so I wasn’t shocked like most of the other onlookers. I spoke up in the sudden stunned quiet.

“Jack kidnapped me and handed me over to a Pureblood, who pulled me through to the next realm. Then Jack made up that story about Rafael to cover what he’d done and to get rid of Rafael. But when I was in the next realm, this Fallen came across the Pureblood and ate him. She brought me back here because I promised to give her another Pureblood as payment. Earlier, Jack told me who the other Purebloods were. They’re in this bar—”

A flash of metal caught my vision. I’d kept a wary eye on him and the other person I knew was a Pureblood, so I had time to lunge before the gunshot rang out, firing back even as white-hot pain blasted through me. My quick reaction meant the shot tore through my upper arm instead of my heart, so the impact spun me around, but I didn’t collapse. Instead, I dropped to one knee and fired again, striking the shooter a second time. He tried to raise his gun at me again, but a large form barreled into him, knocking it away.

“Hold him,” Rafael’s stern voice commanded amidst the sudden pile of people jumping in to restrain Lance, the singer who’d shot me.

“She’s lying! The bitch is lying!” Lance screamed.

“As you can guess,” I rasped, raising my voice, “Lance is one of the two Purebloods here. Hank, our friendly neighborhood bartender, is the other.”

Rafael reached me right as several people hauled Hank over the wooden countertop. Rafael pulled me into his arms, shielding me from any other potential gunshots. Over the wide shoulders of my mate, I saw Hank disappear into the crowd of furious Partials. While Lance still shrieked and cursed me, Hank was oddly silent. He must have realized his fate had been sealed as soon as Rachael had dropped through that smoke hole.

Speaking of Rachael, she still stood in the center by the fire pit, watching the melee around her with a distinct little smirk.

“You Partials are more entertaining than I remembered,” I heard her remark over Lance’s screams and the rough cheers at whatever was being done to him and Hank. Then she caught my eye, nodded once, and flew back out the way she’d come in.

“Mara, your arm,” Rafael muttered, setting me back to rip the sleeve off his jacket and tie it around me.

“It’s just a flesh wound,” I replied, wincing at the pressure from the makeshift bandage. “And
you
weren’t supposed to come here until I convinced everyone that you’re not a Pureblood.”

He grunted. “I wasn’t about to stay in the other realm wondering if my mother would keep her word. I watched over you from the skies while you captured Jack. Then I stayed out of sight in the fields when you came in here, but once I heard the gunshots, I had to get to you.”

I couldn’t criticize. If it had been me outside hearing the gunshots, I wouldn’t have stayed away, either, danger or no danger. Luckily for us, by the time the shots had rung out, the people inside had seen enough to realize Jack had been lying.

And luckily for us, Rafael had put on his shirt and coat while waiting in the fields, so the markings on his back were concealed from any curious eyes.

His large hands stroked my face before he kissed me. The feel of his mouth, combined with the joy of wrapping my arms around him, even though one throbbed painfully, made the rough surroundings fade away. By the time he lifted his head, I didn’t even notice the shouts around us as the Partials administered their own form of justice to the two Purebloods.

“Let’s leave,” Rafael murmured. “I have a doctor at my castle who can treat your arm.”

“It can wait a little longer. We need to get my sister back home. She’s still at Jack’s cabin, pouting because I wouldn’t let her come with me.”

Rafael shook his head with a snort. “Another stubborn Partial, eh?”

“It runs in the family,” I whispered before kissing him again. Lena would be thrilled when I told her she could come here to visit me—and my father would be glad when I told him I’d only let her travel through the gateway in Rafael’s castle, so she would avoid the town until she was older.

“Let’s go, my mate,” I said once we broke the kiss.

His smile took away even the pain in my arm. “Yes. First back to your world, and then back to our home.”

I grinned at him. “Our home, huh? I’m glad you see it that way, because I intend to make a few changes.”

A brow rose. “Changes?”

“We’ll start with the front hall,” I said, letting him lead me out of Bonecrushers. “Really, Rafael, ‘medieval chic’ is
so
last century. . . .”

Continue reading for an exclusive excerpt from

CAGED WARRIOR

by Lindsey Piper

Copyright © 2013 by Carrie Lofty

The first installment in a fierce and sensual new paranormal romance series featuring a proud race on the brink of extinction

CAGED WARRIOR

The Dragon Kings #1

Lindsey Piper

Malnefoley:

No time for formality, cousin. Forgive me.

My darling Caleb is dead. Jack and I have been imprisoned. Dr. Aster is obsessed with learning how Jack was born naturally. Endless experiments and torture. He removed one of my ovaries. My knuckles have yet to heal. He’ll cut off my hands if I fight back again, but I’m tempted every time my little boy screams.

Those who’ve been ruined are sent to the Cages. Some never return. Reed, of our own Clan Tigony, will try to escape before that fate. I hold little hope. He’s been driven insane. One leg taken. No tongue.

Please help us! You lead the Council. I know we’ve had our differences, but to keep punishing me will destroy the Dragon Kings. Aster guards the secret to our survival, but at this price?

Hurry, Mal.

In love and Faith of the Dragon,

Nynn

CHAPTER ONE

She wasn’t in the lab. That’s all she knew. The smells were different. Fewer sterilizing cleansers and less recycled air. More body odor. Piss and sweat. Dirt. Wet rocks.

Audrey opened her eyes and blinked. She pushed up onto her hands and knees. Pain banged at her temples—the ache of still-healing blows to the skull and her own frantic pulse. Lifting her head was an effort, like swimming through wet cement.

Her fuzzy vision sharpened as she got used to the dim lighting. Just a pair of bare incandescent bulbs. A humid mist hung heavy in the cavelike room. Even when her eyes worked together, focusing, that mist shrouded details. She couldn’t tell where the algae-covered walls began and ended.

The bars to her four-by-four cage were a prison. Solid iron. She lifted swollen hands and grasped the cold metal. Frustration ate at her insides. Rattling the cage bars, she shrieked, bellowed with all her might.

“Where is my son?”

At least in the lab, she and Jack had shared a cell. No bars there. Only walls painted black. Just as disorienting. But that confinement had almost felt safe. Almost. She’d held her boy, thankful the darkness concealed the worst of their wounds from one another.

Now all she had was iron bars, algae, and a black pit where her heart had been.

“Where is he? Aster! You son of a bitch!”

Footsteps.

The hair lifted on the backs of her forearms. As her heartbeat jacked up, she noticed her dirty body. Her vulnerability. She wore a paper hospital gown—no underwear, no shoes. Had she been dragged straight from the lab? The last thing she remembered was being strapped to an operating table. A mask had pumped anesthetic into her mouth and nose. Maybe that explained her grogginess. From surgery to a Dragon-damned cave.

And now she wore a damping collar.
But why?
Her powers had never manifested. Giving birth to the first natural-born Dragon King in a generation was the only truly remarkable thing she’d ever done.

She forced the distracting details away. Look for a way out. A way to survive. The iron bars were a lost cause, but the floor was pitted concrete.

With a crack in the corner.

Audrey picked and peeled where moisture had worn away a small crevice. Her fingertips bled. Aching knuckles stretched shadow puppets along the wall. She wiped a sudden sweat from her forehead. Her toes gripped for balance as she scraped harder, faster. Only chanting her son’s name under her breath kept her going.

The steps echoed more loudly. Heavy. Determined. Certainly male. His footfalls hit too heavily for a lean man. A bruiser, then. One of the Aster cartel’s bodyguards. She didn’t stand a chance, but she kept clawing. Her breath became hot steam in her lungs.

A piece of concrete about the size of her fist gave way. She hefted it to test the weight. One pointed end had promise. If she could strike just the right spot on the man’s temple . . .

She edged away from the bars until her spine pinched against the hard rock wall. After twisting her long hair, she shoved it down the back of the hospital gown. She balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to spring.

As a member of the Honorable Giva’s immediate family, she’d been instructed in martial arts training from as early as she could remember. She’d never wielded the powers of her kind, and she was seriously out of practice, but she was not helpless. The chunk of concrete rested in her palm. It was the difference between dying—and dying while fighting.

A flashlight’s beam penetrated the recess of the cave. Audrey narrowed her eyes to slits. She watched through her lashes. The man had so many advantages. That realization should’ve cowed her. Should’ve turned her backbone to mud and left her weeping. But after having been a victim for more than a year—drugged, bound, helpless—she felt mighty by comparison. No manacles. No hallucinogens. Just a rock in her hand and a blaze of pure rage.

The man stepped into clear view.

Easily more than six feet, he was built for breaking bones and ripping off limbs. Brawn. Solid muscle. Powerful biceps and shadow-black hair. Plate metal covered his heart and vital organs, leaving his arms free. Calf-high boots were made of toughened leather. Bare, muscular thighs flexed with the slightest movement. But he didn’t seem the kind of man to make slight movements. Everything about him was overwhelming.

His jaw was fixed in an expression she’d learned to recognize:
You will find no mercy here.

Audrey gave her flight instinct a hard shove, then pushed as far into the shadows as she could. Futile, really, when he aimed the beam directly at her face. She squinted and kept her right hand out of sight as the cage unlocked.

“Disgusting,” he muttered.

“And you’re a traitor,” she spat back. In the language of the Dragon Kings. A language she hadn’t used for nearly a decade.

Frankly, since meeting Caleb, she hadn’t given much thought to the old ways. Her happiness as a human wife had been too easy, too good. Too good to last. But long ago, the ways of the Dragon Kings had been her entire life. The ritual and the covert power.

No matter her ostracism from her clan.

More rage. Years of it came rushing back. The coiled ferocity in her legs exploded. She leapt forward. The cage door swung open on hinges that squealed a rusted protest.

But not even the momentum of her leap shifted the man from his kneeling stance. He only grunted. Audrey’s quick instincts brought that chunk of concrete up, up, in a violent arc. Her aim was true. The jagged edge of her weapon struck somewhere on the side of his face. Another grunt.

Then Audrey was thrown across the room.

Her shoulder hit the ground, followed by her head. A cry ripped from her throat. She slid three feet. Agony stabbed down to her marrow, as if pain had always been a part of her body.

He’d simply . . . hurled her. Just like that.

The big man needed only two strides to cross to where Audrey sprawled. He stripped the chunk of concrete from her hand and tossed it down the tunnel.

“Can you hear me, lab filth?”

The old language rattled in her brain. Words passed down from the blessed Dragon. Nothing quite worked. Her lungs wouldn’t take in air. Something ground painfully in her hip socket. She nodded out of pure reflex.

“If you ever attempt to strike me again, I will snap your spine in two. Think you could recover from that? Our kind can endure a great deal—much more than humans. But we’re not immortal.”

“Where is my son?” Only a rasp now.

“He’s better off dead. Now get up.”

He yanked her under both arms and thrust her against a wall. Shots of fire spiked out from her joints. She gasped as panic set in. She wanted to fight. Wanted to. But just as when Dr. Aster drugged her, or when her brain short-circuited because of his torture, she could not. That didn’t stop her from snarling and spitting.

If he spoke the language of the Dragon Kings, he belonged to one of the sacred Five Clans. But to actually work for that madman?
He
was the filth. Bile surged into her mouth.

“You’ve still got some spirit.” His muscles were tense, holding her immobile, while his breathing remained calm. “I can see why Old Man Aster has plans for you. We’re going to have quite the time.”

The flashlight had rolled across the ground until it illuminated her captor’s face. Blood streamed down from where she’d gouged a ragged hole in his cheek. He was smooth-shaven, and his black hair was shorn close to his head. Eyes the color of teak were fathomless, unreadable. Dark lashes cast shadows along his sharp cheekbones. A scar on his upper lip told stories of past battles. A damping collar encircled his thick, muscular throat.

A tattoo of a serpent wrapped around the back of his head. The tongue hissed toward one temple and the tail flicked toward the other. The Aster family icon.

Realization settled like ice in her belly. He was far deadlier than a brute from the laboratory.

Part boogeyman, part myth—he was a Cage warrior.

“The Aster cartel owns you now, lab filth. But they’re done with experiments.” His scarred lip curled into a snarling smile. “You’re here to fight in the Cages.”

•   •   •

Leto had not expected so much resistance from the woman. The prospect heated his blood. For too long he’d only found satisfaction in preparing for the annual Grievance. The ultimate prize, the most dedicated warriors.

Warriors like Leto.

Performing against his comrades in monthly Cage matches was essential to keep his skills sharp. But training humans to die honorably in those matches was drudgery. They rarely possessed the true courage to stand up to him in combat. Dragon King volunteers—called neophytes until they won their first fight—were more interesting. Unpredictable. Some were as weak and sniveling as humans. Others went on to greatness. Leto had trained many such victors.

His cheek was bleeding profusely. This nasty castoff from Dr. Aster’s lab had surprising spark.

“You’re insane,” she snarled. “I’m not going in there.”

“Have you ever seen a Cage fight?”

She shuddered. “Of course not! They’re for barbarians.”

With a swift movement that had nothing to do with his powers, Leto spun her. “Now is the time you listen. If you think I’m a barbarian, then you know my threats aren’t idle. Your suffering won’t weigh on my conscience.”

“Because you have none.” The words were muffled with her cheek pressed against the damp cave wall.

Leto loosened his grip. Any harder pull would dislocate her shoulder. The goal was not to impair his charges but to ready them. Instead, he added another incentive for her to obey. With his free hand he reached down and grasped between her legs.

“No conscience,” he repeated with a cruel smile. “And I will have my way.”

She stiffened. She stilled. But Leto realized his heart was beating far too fast. Need had gathered in him for three weeks. Cage warriors were permitted female flesh only after a victory—unless they chose to violate their charges, as he threatened. Some mentors indulged too often, but their neophytes became submissive, not resilient and strong. Leto had never needed to use such crude methods. He had other means, including stores of patience.

And he never lost. The regular reward of satisfying his sexual needs was not something every Cage warrior could claim.

She bucked against his hold. “If you think worse wasn’t done to me in the Asters’ lab, then you have no idea what goes on there.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” He gave her pussy a last, hard squeeze. At least this time she flinched and tried to pull away. Any reaction could be twisted to his advantage. “Maybe you’ll enjoy it. Pleasure can be another incentive.”

She threw her head backward. Her skull smacked the bridge of his nose. Pain rocketed through his brain. The woman scrambled from his arms and took off running. Leto shook his head. Part of him was dazed that she’d got the jump on him. Mostly he was amused. Where did she think she could go?

From down the corridor came a female shriek. Pure frustration. She was certainly loud enough to use the sonic assaults that accompanied the berserker rages of Clan Pendray. They annoyed the fuck out of him. Shaking off a week-long migraine was the price of victory over those Dragon-damned Reapers.

He took a strip of linen from beneath his chest armor and wiped his face. The gouge in his cheek was deep, nearly a puncture. The woman continued her tirade. High-pitched bellows echoed up the corridor.

“She-devil bitch,” he muttered to himself.

Still, he was surprisingly eager to get started.

Leto set his shoulders and lifted his chin. The Aster family ran the most powerful human crime cartel in the world. His victories over their cartel rivals—the Townsends of England and the Kaneshiros of Hong Kong—had earned him many privileges. First among them was the right for his sister, Yeta, and her husband, Dallnis, to conceive a little girl. Soon, with the Dragon’s blessing, his efforts would earn protection and care for their comatose younger sister, Pell.

He would win the Grievance, year after year. To keep his family safe. To ensure Clan Garnis would live on.

Confidence gave him extra swagger as he trod down the sloping corridor to retrieve his screaming neophyte. She stood with her back against the gate. Wrought iron. Floor-to-ceiling. And Leto had no key. He was let in and out by the Asters’ human guards. Cattle prods, tasers, and napalm bullets kept even the most powerful Dragon King in check. The collars made it so.

Leto had never fought back. Why would he? This had always been his place of glory and purpose, where his father had fought. And where his father had died.

Decapitated by a Dragon blade.

“Stay away from me!”

“I won’t.” His words were as assured as he felt.

She tried to dart sideways. Though slender, she was wily and surprisingly strong. But she would never be his match. He caught her around the middle. Momentum threw her onto his forearm. Her sternum crushed against his bones. Again he threw her to the ground. He pinned her with his boot heel on her collar, right over her larynx.

“You’ll only hurt yourself. Save this fire. You’ll need it for the Cages.”

She cradled her elbow and glared up with pale, pale eyes—maybe blue.

“I’m to train you for your first bout in three weeks,” he continued. “Normally we’d have more time. But Old Man Aster wants you ready by then. He’ll be hosting many important people.”

He removed his boot and grabbed a fistful of hair—a honeyed brown shade that trailed down her back. He’d need to fix that. His actions were proof of how dangerous long hair could be in battle.

“Let go of me!”

“No.” He dragged her back to the main body of the training room. He shoved her into a wide crack that had been carved by a steady trickle of water. “Wash yourself. I won’t work with garbage.”

She hissed as cold water drenched her face, sluiced down her back. The thin paper hospital gown clung to her body. Soon it would be as useless as wet tissue. He had proper armor for her to change into. Eventually. First she needed to learn her place.

“Soap?”

Leto crossed his arms. “What was that?”