The Bastard (29 page)

If this was an example of his love, she’d rather have a flesh-eating virus.

Suddenly, his shoulders jerked back as if slapped. “Damn it. I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He left the apartment, the outer door closing with an ominous click. Lacy forced her mind to function. For what seemed like hours, she lay there and plotted. The clock showed barely five minutes had passed when her bladder knocked for attention. Oh, that was unfair. Although it would serve him right if she did pee in his bed, she couldn’t stomach the thought of laying in it herself.

A single thought sprang to mind and she froze. She’d cleaned this room and had put every weapon back exactly where she found it, including the humungous knife beneath the mattress. Could she just…

Using her butt and her thighs, she pushed and maneuvered until the mattress slid down about six inches. Thanking heaven he didn’t have a footboard, she planted her feet on the thick edge of the bed and shoved. The mattress slid away exposing the linen-wrapped box springs and a beautifully sharp knife.

It was huge, longer than the hunters’ knives she was familiar with and heavier than her own butcher’s blades. It was nearly as long as her forearm. Okay, she had a knife but her hands were tied. She thought about using her feet but she couldn’t grip with them. One clumsy move and the knife might fall to the floor, ruining any chance at escape.

She did utilize her feet to drag the blade closer. Then she scooted down, an inch at a time, until she lay flat on the box springs. A hysterical laugh brewed in her throat as she nudged the hilt around with her nose until she could take the bottom part in her mouth. She was giving head to a knife.

The knife was heavier than she thought. Cool metal dug into her tongue as her teeth bit into the soft leather wrapping the hilt. She strained until she was sitting up. Her jaw throbbed already. If she laid the back of the blade along her arm and sawed up at the rope, it might work.

Her gaze fell on the clock and she timed herself. She had to take a break three times to rest her pulsing shoulders and sore teeth but it only took seventeen minutes for the very tip of the blade to saw through the rope. The leather restraints broke free of the nylon.

She sprang from the demolished bed and ripped the cuffs from her wrists. She was free! And she had to pee so bad she could taste it.

She peed quickly then yanked jeans off a hanger. If she was running, barefoot and in her nightshirt in November wasn’t the way to go. She pulled the pants on under her nightshirt and jammed her feet into new Converse sneakers. She found a new dark purple thermal that was perfect for this kind of weather. She even had clean bras in the drawer. Erik had paid for them all and the thought was rebelliously fitting right now.

The knife hilt felt huge in her hands, but she was suddenly extremely fond of this dagger and had no intentions of leaving it behind. Unrolling the paper towels, she fashioned a semi-sheath for the blade out of the cardboard tube and stuck it in the back of her jeans as she’d seen Dray do. No amount of searching revealed her purse. With no remorse, she swiped three one hundred dollar bills from Erik’s sock drawer. That should be enough to bribe any driver she could flag down to take her to the nearest police station.

She hurried to the door, looking around the apartment with a surprising sense of loss. She’d come to love this tiny place. That was before she realized she was sleeping with a jerk who had no qualms about kidnapping her. A voice whispered in her ear that he hadn’t hurt her, could have inflicted so much more pain. She told that voice to shut the hell up and turned the knob.

The front door was locked. No amount of tugging, twisting or shaking budged the thing. Iron will firmed her throbbing face. There was no way a locked door was going to undo all her efforts. She spun toward the balcony.

Cold night wind made her teeth chatter. Frosty moonlight shone on the ground below and she estimated the height. She could probably jump it and not break her neck. Of course, she also might sprain an ankle. She wasn’t going to end up like some heel-wearing bimbo in a slasher film, reduced to maniac-food because of a sprained ankle.

There was another balcony several feet away. If she could find something to use as a bridge, she could get into another apartment, one of the empty ones, and slip out an unlocked door. Running back inside, she looked around. What could she use? The skis might be long enough, but they were so skinny. She flashed on the rope that had restrained her and ran back into the bedroom. Damn, even knotted together, they wouldn’t be long enough to reach the ground.

Her eyes fell on the closet door. If she took that off the hinges…

“Lacy, you stupid moron. Use your head.”

Erik had different size screwdrivers and all sorts of tools in a box beside the couch he used for his timers and bomb-making. In minutes, she’d pried the hinges off and moved the locked door aside. A harsh wind gust licked up her back from the gaping balcony door. It was almost winter. A perfectly good coat in her size hung in the closet, with the tags still attached. She ripped them off and strode down the hall, shoving her arms inside.

Inside the left pocket, paper crumpled in her hand. She pulled out a folded note, opening it before thinking.

Lace, if I can’t hold you and keep you warm, then use this until you come back to me. Love, Erik.

She sucked in a watery breath before carefully refolding the note and tucking it back into her pocket.
Love, Erik
. Damn him.

The corridor was eerily silent. Where were the guys? She wanted to avoid them all if she could. She contemplated the stairs, but instead headed for the elevator. She’d skip the ground floor and head straight to the below-ground garage. After that, into the night and run like a bat out of hell.

The few moments in the elevator raised the hair on the back of her neck. In this tiny box, she was a sitting duck. She held her breath until the silver doors slid open in the garage. Freedom beckoned and she bolted from the elevator.

Her sneakers squeaked on the pavement and echoed back to her. She raced past the battered remains of Erik’s truck, a motorcycle, an old jeep, a couple SUVs and a sports car that looked more like a UFO than an automobile. The incline leading into the garage wasn’t lit well and she slowed, eyes darting into the shadows. No one was following her.

Misty breaths unfurled in front of her mouth as she neared the night sky. Her face crashed into nothing. The force knocked her back.

“What the hell…?”

She walked forward holding her hand out. It touched something she couldn’t see. Star Trek episodes flashed through her mind and screamed
force field
but that was crazy. Those things didn’t really exist. But why couldn’t she get out?

Her fist banged on air that was hard and unforgiving. Panic shot through her. She crawled along the floor, feeling for a gap, and inched close to the cement sides but she couldn’t get even a finger past the exit. How in the hell did they drive through that?

Realization trembled along her bones. All the patio doors led to the courtyard. She’d never seen any way outside the complex except the garage. She couldn’t get out. She was still a prisoner. Determination balled in her stomach. No. She’d gotten this far. There had to be a way out of here. Maybe one of those empty rooms on the first floor had a doorway. Whirling on her heels, she ran back to the elevator.

Her finger hovered over the white One button. At the bottom of the panel sat that black circle she’d never touched. She pressed that sinister color.

For the entire elevator ride, Vike stifled the pain. He was no longer her hero. He was just a bastard. That word had never hit so hard or hurt so badly before. His brain told him to stop being a wuss and deal with it. A couple weeks for her Immunity to grow and he could drop her off, back into her normal human life, content that she’d live a long time hating him.

The doors slid silently open in the Hall of Infamy and he entered, his mind spinning with a set of pale brown eyes flaring with hate. His clothes melted away, replaced with the brush of fine silk as he strode to his normal place. Only then, when he raised his eyes, did his stomach bottom out.

Sela stood at the center of the circle, her swirling eyes blazing with anger. Black silk matching her unbound hair skimmed her body in a simple sheath free of any adornment. In her hand, a long whip curled like a seductive snake around her bare feet. Suspended from the hidden ceiling, two long chains ended with manacles directly behind her. His heart boomed with ramming speed. This was for him.

“Eiríkr Haraldsson, come forward for judgment.”

His name, his true name, falling from her lips stiffened his spine. He should have known this was coming. She’d healed him because they had a job to do, one that was gathering speed and hurtling toward Armageddon. Normally, fights were allowed but he’d broken the one cardinal rule he’d pledged on his immortal soul to uphold — to guard his teammates’ backs. Instead, he’d hurled an axe at his leader and intended to dust him. He couldn’t muster regret.

With his chin held high, he walked calmly to the center and held out his arms. Sela fumed as she snapped the cuffs shut, the metal biting into his wrists. She lifted her fingers and he rose, the chains stretching him taut until his toes barely scraped the floor. He was captive and at her mercy. Sela had no mercy when it came to her men. Not even
for
her men if they disobeyed her.

Sela’s voice was a frosty wind that licked along his skin. “Repeat to me your vow.”

Try as he might to remain silent, the words spilled from his lips in a language he rarely spoke any more but which brought bittersweet memories to his heart.

“I, Eiríkr Haraldsson, do swear by my blood and my soul to obey you, Sela, called Josiel under the Creator of All, to use all of my wits and strength to defeat those who would destroy all good. In exchange for mercy, I kneel before you and accept your Mark. I vow to fight the horde of evil, to defend those whose blood sings to me and to guard my brethren from all harm.”

Ire crackled around Sela, a tangible storm that stung his skin with invisible bee stings. “Did you break that vow and use your gifted weapon of choice against your brethren?”

He locked his sight on Zale’s blank face and answered in English. “Yes.”

“Do you repent and regret this action?

“Absolutely not.”

Sela inhaled. “Defiance?”

“I did it and I’ll do it again. I won’t rest until that asshole’s dust covers my feet.”

Her eyes blazed with the fire of Holy anger. “You stand here, hanging by chains and ready to feel my vengeance, and still you keep your hatred and vow to enact
kareth
upon your brethren?”

Kareth
, the scattering of soul-dust so that it could not be Awoken come the End of Days was tantamount to erasing Zale’s existence. Zale could never be welcomed into Paradise should his sins be one day forgiven. His name would be forgotten by the ages and his soul set to wander forever, a shade without rest. It was the most grievous sin in existence and the deepest fear in all Awoken souls.

“You’re damn right I do.”

Sela shook her head, sorrow closing her eyes. “Why, my warrior? Tell me your heart so I may understand such hatred.”

“He took Lacy to the medi-room. She didn’t understand what she saw. He had no fucking right!”

“A woman caused this?” She rolled her eyes. “I cannot allow discord to fester among you. She dies. I’ll do this myself.”

“No,” he roared. Fear whooshed with the same force as his anger and his torso swung from the strength of his shout. “Sela, please don’t. I beg you, don’t kill her. I love her.”

“The vow you took is eternal.”

“Dust me.” Her eyes widened but he forged on. “Right now, dust me and forget about me but if you have any care for me, please don’t kill Lacy.”

Sela turned her back to him and looked around the room. “I don’t understand this. I’ve allowed all of you your human urges, asking only that you do not populate the land with offspring. A woman has never caused turmoil among you before. You have lived and fought and bled beside one another for thousands of years. Does loyalty mean so little to you?”

Nomad’s jaw worked furiously but he didn’t speak. Rex and Dray lowered their heads, fixing their gaze firmly on the gold circle on the floor. Zale closed his eyes.

“It’s not that loyalty means so little, Sela,” Myth said. Deeper than the richest Earth, his eyes were filled with longing. “It’s that love means so much. Vike didn’t look for it but he found it. Don’t punish him for being human.”

She recoiled as if slapped. “His punishment is not for loving.”

Rex exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “But it
is
for reacting like a man when someone he loved was hurt. Men will do anything to protect those they love, even kill.”

“Man wasn’t meant to be alone.” A pain so raw it screamed bled from Nomad’s face. Vike blinked in shock. He’d never seen the grouch show any emotion except contempt. Now his voice carried a heavy burden, one of well-aged misery and loneliness that rocked Vike to his marrow. “It’s too much to ask, Sela, too much.”

“Vike’s a hothead. We all know it.” Dray rubbed his chin then snapped his hand back to his side. “But Zale was a dick. Vike just…went too far.”

Camaraderie swelled in his chest as his team looked to him. They understood and stood by him, even when faced with Sela’s anger. Never since being Awoken had he felt such a bond with his fellow warriors.

Sela turned to Zale. “You had reason for your actions other than malice?”

He nodded.

“Do you regret your actions?”

The team leader shook his head. Vike lunged but the chains held him tight.

The whip trailed Sela’s walk, a slithering sound along the marble that raked against Vike’s nerves. Settling in her throne, her quiet could not hide her unfocused eyes, her mind swirling with thoughts. Time stretched. Not a single man shifted, just waiting. Vike’s thighs began to burn as he balanced. His wrists screamed with pain as the iron bit into his skin.