Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night (31 page)

She knew MacRieve would come for her, but that was the other half of the problem. She didn't want to be a sitting duck tonight.

When they reached a camouflaged outpost, the three hauled her from the truck though she fought them. After dragging her inside, they forced her down deep into a bunker, leading her into tunnels in the earth.
Cold and dark. Fancy that.

One tunnel had a line of cells, all with solid steel doors, as if bomb-proofed. In fact, everything in this place seemed to be so. One of the men punched a code into a keypad, and an adjoining door slid open. The other soldier shoved her into a barren cell, with only a cot and a toilet within. She inanely remembered Carrow calling jail
two hots and a cot
.

“You have to untie me.”

“You're in no position to make demands,” the leader said. “Best accept your lot and prepare yourself for tonight.”

“What's my lot?”

“It's very simple. We were out provisioning,” he explained, raking her with his gaze, “and you are a provision.” He turned to the doorway.

“Then there's nothing I can do for you,” she murmured. “I vow you won't survive past midnight. And your last sight before you die will make you relieved to go.”

One soldier laughed nervously. The second lackey scowled. The leader turned in a flash and backhanded her, his heavy ring catching her temple when she tried to duck. The force sent her spinning to the ground. Hands still bound behind her, she landed on her face.

Struggling to her knees, she wiped her temple on her shoulder. When she saw the blood, she cast him an evil smile. “You're going to die extra bad for that.”

*  *  *

At dusk, Bowe couldn't resist the pull of his female any longer. Her scent was still in the jungle—she hadn't made it to the city and a flight out. Though he fought with everything he was, he felt himself changing direction, retracing his earlier footfalls to her.

He'd never run so fast . . . no, there'd been one other time. . . .

He shook off that memory. Mariketa's tantalizing scent called to him and nothing else mattered. Acres of treacherous terrain passed effortlessly beneath his feet. Just a mile or so more till he found her.
Closer.
He could tell she was near . . . yards away now, directly up the stream bank.

He jerked to a stop when he reached her scent.

She wasn't here.

He'd locked onto her bag, her clothes. So where in the hell was she? Her canteen lay off to the side—she'd never
leave her boiled water. Other odors came to him—human males laden with aggression, gun oil, cigarettes. He sighted boot prints in the mud. Over the next rise were tire tracks. Soldiers had abducted her.

And Bowe knew why. His claws sank into his palms.

He barely detected another scent. Her fear.

—
Punish them.
—

They'd taken his female, frightened his vulnerable mate.
Turning . . . already.

He would slaughter them, every one.

With a roar of fury, he let the beast free.

H
e'd come.

Mari knew when gunfire began to echo in the tunnels of the bunker. Men barked orders with authority, and machine guns popped in concentrated waves.

Yet soon the organized defense became erratic. The commands devolved into . . . screams.

These humans—along with herself—were trapped down in the earth with a monster. He'd begun to kill, and she could do nothing but wait with dread. With her hands still bound behind her, she rocked forward and back on the cot.

His onslaught of violence seemed to keep beat with the heavy drum of her heart. She heard hardened men yell out in terror before the sound gurgled from their slashed throats.

Had MacRieve used his teeth or claws?

Would
she
scream at the sight of him?

“
Dios mío!”
one soldier gritted out. Chills coursed through her when she heard another
weeping
—before being instantly silenced.

A split second after a wild clap of machine gun fire, an explosion sounded and the electricity flared. When the overhead light sparked and burst into fragments, she shrieked in the sudden blackness.

From somewhere out in the tunnels came his answering bellow of rage.

She swallowed with fear. Moments later red emergency lights hummed on. When she saw that chunks of glass had fallen out of the light cage above, she backed to the biggest piece, crouching down to collect it with her bound hands. Then she began clumsily sawing at the tie.

Just as she thought she was close to slicing free, she heard the keypad at her cell entrance. She didn't breathe as the door whirred open.

The leader slipped in, softly closing and locking it behind him. In a low voice, he hissed, “You'll tell me who's behind this incursion! Who's—”

He abruptly whirled around and jerked his gun up.

Harsh breaths sounded just outside her door.

MacRieve was here. And she couldn't imagine what he would do once he got past that barrier. Would he butcher the soldier, then shove her face into the cot?
Take you in the dirt like an animal,
he'd said.

Why was he hesitating? She heard the tips of his claws meet the steel of the cell door. He'd raised his palms to the door?

Yes, and then he rested his forehead against it, his claws beginning to sink in, in frustration. Her heart twisted.

Bowen didn't want her to see him like this.

Because sometimes monsters know what they are.
She felt her eyes water with sympathy for him, experienced a sudden ache to comfort him—

With a deafening grinding sound, he wrenched the door from its groove.

The soldier turned his attention from her long enough
for her to finish cutting through the ties at her wrists. When she glanced up, she could distinguish only MacRieve's outline in the shadows. His breathing was so loud it sounded more like snarls. His massive shoulders rose and fell with the heaving exhalations.

The man weakly raised his rifle and fired. Claws shot out from the dark to slice through the gun barrel as though it were paper.

Then MacRieve crossed the threshold. The red backup light finally caught him.

The soldier took one look at MacRieve and released his bladder; she swayed on her feet.

So much blood . . . MacRieve was covered in it.

Mari's thoughts began to register slowly, hazily.
Am I going into shock? Look at his face, his body. Had I thought I could handle this? Or comfort him?

At once, his pale blue eyes narrowed on the mark at her temple, then flared with an unimaginable rage.
He truly is a beast, a monster from Lore
.

Panic bubbled up inside her, and she shook as much as the soldier begging for his life in broken Spanish.

MacRieve's harrowing gaze swung to the man then returned to her face. “
Struck . . . you?
” His voice was deep and raspy, his vocal cords altered.

She stared dumbly, unable to answer. MacRieve raised his hand above the man for the killing blow, his black claws glinting in the red light. A whoosh of air. She squeezed her eyes shut as jugular blood sprayed across her face, hot and thick.

What came next was a blur. The scream was hers. Light flooded from her eyes and hands. MacRieve flew across the
room. As she darted for the entrance, she used magick to lift the onerous cell door, then slammed it behind her, sealing it like a plug.

His roar boomed off the solid walls.

The sound of a monster.

In pure terror, she ran through the smoky tunnels, absently working circulation back into her wrists. Everywhere dead soldiers lay mauled, their sightless eyes still wide with shock. Blood had splashed against the walls and pooled on the ground, looking like tar in the glow of the backup lights. She clenched her jaw against vomiting from the sickening odor, but she would spare no pity for killers like them.

She locked and sealed the next tunnel door, and the next, aware that she was only delaying MacRieve. Her only hope was to get a vehicle. . . .

Tripping up the last set of stairs to the surface, she used her hands to push herself up again and again. At last, she reached the outside. Running free into the rainy night, she sloshed in puddles, mud splashing up to her thighs.
Need a truck, need a truck . . . with keys.

She stumbled, raised her gaze.
There . . . truck.

Stolen
truck. It didn't have doors or a roof and the rain continued to pound, but could there be . . . yes,
keys
!

She darted inside to the slick vinyl seat, pinched the ignition key, and twisted it hard. The engine rumbled and died. Once more, turning over, then dying. “
Come on . . . come on . . . start, you bitch!
”

Ignition! She stomped on the gas pedal—not too light on the clutch either—and the truck lurched into motion. Glad for once of the smell of burning clutch.

The roads were soupy. The rain was falling on and off, but in thunderous bouts. She fishtailed, attempting to get
the wipers to work, but rain continued to pelt her eyes from above. She skidded along, driving too fast . . . too fast.
Have to or he'll catch me. . . .

When she hit a dip and was almost bounced from the truck, she fastened her seat belt. Squinting, she recognized the area, remembered the sheer drop-offs lining these roads.
Way too fast.

She shook her head. No, she'd risk a damn drop-off before she'd let him take her. She shuddered again at the image of him—the crazed look in his uncanny eyes, the blood spilling from the corners of his mouth and dripping from his fangs, his
size
.

And it wanted to . . .
mate
with her like that. To sink those bloody fangs into her skin.

No
. Concentrate! She could do this, could get away. She swiped the back of her arm over her drenched face—

Eyes reflected back at her in the headlights.
His.

She stomped the brake and yanked the wheel right, sending the truck reeling. The wheel spun wildly . . . until the back end lurched off the road's edge and jerked to a stop, the chassis sunk into a mud bank.

Have to run!
With shaking hands, she fought to unlatch her seat belt.

The entire road began to creep away.

As she screamed, the truck slid sideways down a sharp embankment until it hit a stump and reared into the air. It slammed back to the ground with the front heading down at an almost ninety-degree angle.

She locked the brakes, and hardwood limbs stabbed at the front bumper, but the truck wouldn't be stopped. Broad leaves slapped the windshield as the speed increased. She screamed again when the glass finally broke.

Oh, gods, no . . .
The edge would be close. Just as she raised her arms in front of her face, her body was catapulted forward, then snatched in place by her seat belt. Gasping, she lowered her arms and cracked open her eyes.

MacRieve was at the front—he'd
caught
the truck. She could hear his claws digging down into the hood as he grappled to hold her at the precipice.

The headlights shined over his bloody face and clothes, his straining muscles. The power in his changed body stunned her.

“
Get . . . out!
” he bellowed in that beastly voice. “
Higher
 . . .
now!
”

Eyes wide, she fumbled with the seat belt. Wouldn't open.
No . . . no . . . this shit only happens in movies!

The rain began again, a deluge. Beneath the truck, the ground moved, feeling loose, gummy,
loose . . .

She froze, met his eyes.

In an instant, he leapt forward, stomping across the hood. With two swift movements, he'd cut her from the belt and tossed her over his shoulder. He lunged over the length of the truck to fight for higher ground, but the earth was collapsing under his feet.