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Maybe he shouldn’t do this.
A gust of wind burst through the room, lifting the bottle of whiskey off the ground and slamming it into the woman’s chest.
“Ow!” she cried.
Kane cursed the day he’d stolen Pandora’s box.
She rubbed her chest, saying, “What just happened?”
“Could have been an air vent.” It was possible.
“Why don’t you kiss me better?” She inched closer to him.
“No kissing.” Harsh words. Even harsher tone.
“What about sucking? I’m really good at sucking.” She leaned over to unfasten his pants, but Kane flipped her over. He pressed her stomach into the cushions of the couch, holding her down. He didn’t want anyone’s lips on him.
“We do this my way.” Bile rose as he lifted the hem of her dress and tugged down her panties. Though he would have rather sawed off one of his limbs, he unbuttoned his pants, undid the zipper. The trembling of his hands magnified. Acid rose from his stomach and collected in his throat, scorching him. He paused.
What was the problem? He’d done this before. When he’d realized relationships weren’t feasible, he’d lived off one-night stands. At least for a little while. But none of them had ever broken him down like this….
“Am I doing something wrong?” she asked.
Gritting his teeth, he sheathed himself in a condom and … and …
Do it! Disaster commanded.
He took her.
He was rough, ragged, utterly without sensuality and carnal ambition. He had no focus, no desire to watch her reach climax. His mind despised this. And yet, his body liked it. But then, his body was a traitor. It had liked what the minions had done, too, and that’s what haunted him most. That a part of him had enjoyed his own violation.
This had been a mistake.
He didn’t want this woman, didn’t know her, might not even like her if he did. She wasn’t … her, the Fae his instincts craved so desperately.
Disaster cursed at the direction of his thoughts.
And as the female groaned to encourage him, images began to fill his head. Hands here … mouths there … minions everywhere …
Nearing panic, Kane somehow, some way, managed to finish. He wasn’t sure whether or not he’d gotten her off, and at the moment, he didn’t care.
The demon’s curses tapered into statements of approval.
Fighting a tide of self-disgust, Kane discarded the condom and fixed his clothing, then threw a few hundreds on the couch cushions beside her. He walked to the door, and motioned her out. First thing he saw was William taking a woman against the wall. The guard was nowhere to be seen.
“But … don’t you want my number?” asked the blonde. “In case the urge strikes again? I’ll make myself available to you any day, any time.”
“No,” he said, being blunt to be kind. He would never call her, and he didn’t want her hoping for the impossible.
“Was I not what you were looking for?”
“No. You weren’t. Now leave.”
Sighing, she straightened her dress and strode out of the room, the hall.
“All done?” William called. He hadn’t pulled from the woman, but he’d stopped moving at least.
More, Disaster said.
As much as Kane hated the words brewing at the back of his tongue, he said, “Bring me another one.” The sex hadn’t done what he’d wanted. The memories and all that came with them were still knocking at the door of his mind, ready to pounce. But Disaster was happy. So, Kane would take a second woman. And a third. However many proved necessary, until the demon was so saturated with satisfaction, he forgot what had happened.
Kane received an unapologetic and shameless thumbs-up before he shut the door, stalked to the bathroom and vomited. When he finished, he cleaned his mouth with the contents of another bottle of whiskey.
And not a second too soon.
A knock sounded at the door. William and a brunette strutted inside.
“How about this one?” the warrior asked.
“Whatever,” Kane said. “She’ll do.”
Before the night was over, Kane took twelve women. He used different positions, and different types of females. Girls in their twenties, women in their forties, more blondes, more brunettes and even two redheads. He hated every second, even hated himself. He vomited every time.
Disaster loved it all, and yet he never stopped tossing out images of Kane’s torture.
He hated the demon a thousand times more.
His time’s coming … soon …
The mountains of Montana
KANE HACKED THROUGH the foliage in front of him. Branches continually slapped at him, courtesy of Disaster. The satisfaction the creature had experienced during the sexual marathon hadn’t lasted long. Now, rocks rolled in his way, tripping him. Insects snapped at him.
He had to reach the Fae before the demon did any major damage … or Kane’s mind finally snapped. Whichever came first.
His head was even more unfamiliar terrain, with dark valleys and impossibly high mountains he could never hope to climb. Or maybe he could. When he’d left the club, he’d realized the Fae had become a source of light to him. His only source of light. She had made him want to smile during the worst period of his life. For that alone, she was a miracle.
He could really use a miracle.
Perhaps she could do what the parade of women had not: wash away the worst of his memories. Bring peace, if only for a little while.
Perhaps. But perhaps not.
Either way, he had to know. Had to see her, talk to her. Save her.
Deep inside, where instinct still demanded she belonged to him, he suspected she was his only hope of survival.
So, he would find her.
Would she smell the stale cigarettes and old perfume he hadn’t been able to wash from his skin? Would she demand he leave her alone?
Probably.
Would he obey?
No.
I’m disgusting. Cruel. A user and a whore.
I didn’t used to be this way, he wanted to shout.
What was the Fae’s name? The fact that he didn’t know was starting to irritate him. He would call her … Kewpie? No. Those big, gorgeous eyes fit, but nothing else. Tinker Bell, then. Yeah. Tinker Bell worked. She was such a delicate little thing, with her pointy ears and sharp little chin, and she flittered from here to there, always out of reach.
According to Torin’s surveillance, she was staying in a cabin in these woods. About an hour ago, Kane had found the cabin but not the girl. However, he had discovered fresh tracks. Human. Female. Size six feet. She couldn’t have much of a head start on him, and she couldn’t be moving very fast. As deep as her prints were, she was carrying a heavy load. Plus, night had fallen.
The half-moon lacked its usual glow, allowing an almost suffocating darkness to reign. The air was cold, the breeze wafting from the snow-capped mountains and chasing away any hint of warmth. Trees knifed toward the blackened sky.
“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” William asked from behind him. “It’s not my fault the pleasure train failed to work for you. You must not have done it right.”
Kane ignored him.
“What’s so important about this girl, anyway? I mean, really.”
Again silence.
“Does she have a magic pu—”
Kane spun around and punched him in the jaw. “Enough!” Fury bubbled in his blood, molten, acidic—poisonous. “Don’t go there. Don’t ever go there. Not with her.”
William rubbed the wound. “So why are we hunting her?” he asked as if Kane hadn’t just resorted to violence.
Could nothing shut the warrior up? Kane jolted back into motion. “She says I owe her.” And it was true … if not the full truth.
“And you always pay your debts? What kind of craziness is that?”
“Some people would say it’s honorable.” Maybe the only honor Kane had left.
“Some people are stupid.”
“And there’s the number-one reason I’ll never do anything for you.”
“Because you’re stupid like everyone else? That’s being a little harsh on yourself, don’t you think? I mean, sure, if you ever entertained a bright idea I’d have to say it was beginners’ luck, but you have your moments.”
I can act like I’m a calm, rational being. Kane stalked past a wall of green and entered a clearing. He stopped and breathed deeply. The air was clean here. Pure and untouched. Also kind of annoying. He wanted to catch a hint of rosemary, mint and maybe even smoke, indicating Tinker Bell was still here and warming herself in front of a fire.
He could swoop in and grab her. She would probably fight him, but he wasn’t worried. She lacked skill. And strength. Was probably fatigued. But she’s got heart, he thought, a now familiar ache lancing through his chest.
“Well?” William prompted.
“We set up camp.” Not because they’d been on the move since leaving the club and needed to rest—though they had and they did—but because he could tell they were being followed and he didn’t want to lead his shadow to Tinker Bell.
He doubted the Hunters were after him. Apparently, during Kane’s forced stay in hell, a battle had been waged in the skies, Hunters against Lords, Titans against Sent Ones.
The Lords and Sent Ones had won, utterly destroying the Hunters and severely weakening the Titans.
Kane gathered stones, twigs and dried leaves to build a fire. He cared little about warmth. He wanted the one following him to see the smoke and assume he was relaxed, unprepared. Was the culprit immortal? If so, what race? And why was he after Kane?
Doesn’t matter. He withdrew a dagger and sharpened it against one of the stones he’d set aside. His reflection caught on the silver metal, and firelight illuminated the image. The red in his eyes had intensified.
Disaster had grown stronger, Kane far weaker. Disgusted, he set the weapon away.
“You know we’ve got a female Phoenix on our tail, right?” William asked.
A Phoenix? He’d never messed with the fire-happy race. “I do. Of course I do.” Now. “How did you know?”
“I can smell her. How else?”
“Right.”
“The plan?”
“To wait.”
“And slaughter her on our own turf,” William said with a nod, black hair shagging around his supermodel face—or whatever he insisted on calling that ugly mug. “I like it. Simple, yet elegant.” He eased onto the only rock in front of the fire he hadn’t helped build, and dug through his backpack. He withdrew a pistachio nutrition bar he’d stolen from Kane, tore off the wrapper—and ate every bite, never offering Kane a taste.
Typical.
“That was good. You should have brought one.” William brushed his hands together. He wore a T-shirt that read I’m a Jenius, and that pretty much encapsulated the male’s entire personality. Silly, unconcerned, irreverent. Misleading.
Kane dug through his own pack. He withdrew three daggers, two Sigs and the parts to his long-range rifle. What could a female Phoenix want with him? He knew the race lived for the enslavement of others. He knew they were nearing extinction, many having met their final end. Like cats with nine lives. He knew they were bloodthirsty and war-hungry … but they usually only picked battles they could win.
So confident. Disaster chuckled with evil glee. So wrong.
Kane ignored him. He’d tried engaging the fiend, snapping retorts, issuing threats, but look where that had gotten him. Now, he wasn’t going to waste his time or energy. And why should he? This was a full-on case of dead demon talking.
Suddenly sparks flew from the fire, shooting out white-hot streams in every direction. Grass sizzled, and black smoke billowed. Heat licked over Kane’s pants, blistering his calves.
William scrambled around, patting out the flames. “You’re a menace. You know that, right? Everywhere we go, something terrible happens.”
“I know.” And the worst was yet to come. “To your knowledge, have the Moirai ever had a wrong prediction?”
“Oh, yes,” William said. “Definitely.”
Hope bloomed. “When?” He fit the rifle’s barrel on top of the frame, and the scope on top of that. He inserted the screws and gently tightened. “How?”
“When—too many times to count. How—free will. Our choices dictate our future, nothing else.”
Intelligent words from a Jenius. Go figure. “They think I’m destined to marry the keeper of Irresponsibility.”
