Chapter 15 #2
“Really?” He rumbled. I had forgotten how deep his voice ground into me, cutting me over the rocks. “Most things are begging me to drive deep into them.” His voice licked between my thighs, my eyes darting back to him, finding his attention solely on me. Heavy. Dangerous.
Crack!
Kalaraja was not one to wait for results.
His gun went off, propelling a cry from my lungs.
Warwick twisted, the shell pinging off the dual blades of his cleaver.
His nose wrinkled with a snarled growl, his hands reaching for his weapon.
Before anyone could react, he lurched toward me, the ragged mouth of his steel cutting down.
Terror choked off my scream as the blade sliced by my head, grazing my ear.
The guard screeched, blood spraying my cheek, the clank of metal accompanying the thud of flesh hitting the ground. My focus snapped to the severed hand laying on the pavement, the gun next to it. The teenage boy on the ground, spitting and howling, tucked his bloody stump into his chest.
“I warned you,” Warwick grunted down at him.
“Shoot them!” Kalaraja ordered.
The realization hit me that there was no cover near us. We were far outnumbered, and a bullet would be finding me tonight.
Istvan would win.
A single shot rang out, and then . . .
BOOOOM!
Killian’s SUV exploded, the vehicle launching into the air like a fireball, the impact of the blast scattering us to the ground. This was the third time tonight my bones cracked painfully over the ground, skidding across the pavement. Heat from the blaze singed my skin.
I popped up to find Warwick lying next to me, his eyes catching mine, a feral smirk tugging on his mouth.
“Let me guess. Distraction.” He did this. Well, it was his idea, and I had a solid suspicion about who his accomplice was. The figure I saw lurking in the shadows earlier.
He gave me a look, his hand wrapping around my wrist, pulling me up.
“Come on!” Ash bellowed from behind us. Killian and Sloane climbed to their feet as some of the soldiers near us rose as well.
“You fucking blew up my car.” Killian waved at the flaming hunk of metal.
“I could have waited until you were in it.” Warwick shot the fairy a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead, anyway? Should have known you wouldn’t die.” Anger bristled under Warwick’s skin as if he hated Killian more for surviving and standing in front of him.
Because he didn’t know Eliza and Simon were alive as well.
“Warwi—”
“Let’s go.” He cut me off. “And keep your faces hidden.” Warwick huffed, jogging for Ash.
Not hesitating, I swiped up the box and the two guns left on the ground near the one-handed guard. Tossing an extra one to Killian, the three of us followed our rescuers.
Giving one last look, I noticed among the dead and wounded, Kalaraja was nowhere in sight.
The man of death seemed to be able to slip away from his maker as much as we did. One day, there would be a final showdown, one of us not able to sneak from its grasp.
With a limping jog, we ran into the night, disappearing into the slums of the Savage Lands.
My skin prickled; the sudden contrast from icy cold to the sticky warmth of condensed bodies rubbing against me had sweat pooling at the back of my neck, my nose running.
Carnal Row was the pinnacle of debauchery.
Music slithered around, laced with erotic groans from the hammocks swinging from the roof, enticing the most resilient of visitors.
Gambling, drinking, and the euphoria of sex seduced all with a promise of forgetting.
Forgetting your aching back and weary body.
Forgetting your starving belly or empty pockets.
Forgetting the unbearable suffering of daily life.
Ebbing the grief of your children eating scraps and sleeping on flea-infested mattresses.
The magic of this place let you believe for one moment there was beauty and pleasure in the world.
The girl with striking split features wound her body around the hoop swing, bending and contorting into implausible ways while twirling firesticks.
Many of the barely dressed fae, luring passers-by into a club, called out to Warwick by name, begging the legend to join them for the night or any time he would allot them.
Killian, Sloane, and I kept deep in our hoods, but I kept turning around, trying to catch Killian’s reaction to this place.
His expression remained impassive and unmoved by the countless offers and touches he received.
Some even gasped when he walked by. They didn’t need to see his face to know he was powerful; they could feel it coming off him as he passed.
The Lord of the Fae would have magic some might never have felt before.
Killian’s eyes met mine. “You have no idea what I’ve seen in my day. This is nothing.” His tone suggested his past went far more into the seedy dark underbelly world than his position, as lord, indicated.
Sloane and Ash were hounded as well. The whole group, except me, had both men and women sensually and crudely begging them for pleasure while I was almost unseen. Like my iridescent gray aura reflected like an empty spot, blinding them to a person there.
As if I were a ghost.
“Where the hell are we going?” Killian hissed, our group quickly weeding through the throng.
“Sorry, Lord,” Warwick grumbled, slowing us down when we got to the infamous cathouse. “You’re gonna have to lower your expectations for a bit. No silk sheets and chocolates on the pillow here.”
Killian’s gaze danced over the front of Kitty’s, the prostitutes hanging out of the window calling down to potential clients.
“You think you’re the only one who suffered in life?” Killian shot to Warwick. “I worked and fought for where I am. I didn’t come from money.” He started to brush by the Wolf. “Just so you know, my sister was sold at the age of fourteen to work at a brothel.”
The bit of information hit my lungs like a punch.
I had assumed Killian came from noble birth, which was how most became noblemen and kings.
Nepotism was the formula for becoming a ruler.
To get a little insight on him and his family was rare.
He had a sister. Did he still, or did something happen to her?
The five of us stomped up the steps and through the doors, Killian, Sloane, and I still fully hooded and hidden behind the other two.
“No.” Madam Kitty stood in the middle of her lounge. Regal, beautiful, and pissed. Her arms crossed, and her mouth pinched. “One stray was bad enough. I put my foot down at three more.”
“So now I’m a fuckin’ stray?” Ash snapped, his lids lowering. “Good to know how you look at me.”
“That’s not—” She held up her hand, taking a deep breath. “I did not mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean?” Ash got closer, his chest puffing. Anger bristled off the easygoing male, their past bubbling up to the surface fast and hot. “Seems pretty clear how you feel about me. How you’ve always felt.”
“Ash, stop.” Warwick shoved his friend back. “Not the time.”
“Never is,” Ash retorted, though he eased back from Kitty.
Warwick turned to her. “Kit.”
“Don’t you dare call me that.” Kitty pointed her long nail in Warwick’s face.
“You continue to take advantage of me, Warwick. This is my business. My home. I have built this place up with my own blood, sweat, and tears, and you waltz in, give me those eyes and cocky smile and think I will simply bend to your will. How many times now has something gone wrong, and I have to rebuild another room or lose business because you are hiding out here.”
“I have always compensated you for it.”
Kitty glared at him. “You have pushed me too far lately. Your mood has gone beyond unbearable, and I’ve known you when you were only a vengeful killer.
This week, you have destroyed an entire floor, threatened my workers, and scared away clients.
So, until you find that girl and deal with your shit, I need you to get out. ”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Warwick ground through his teeth, the sentence sounding more like thunder than actual words.
“For someone as smart as you are, who has lived as long as you have, you are an idiot. You have your head so far up your ass, all you see is your own bullshit.” Fury flashed in Kitty’s brown eyes.
I had never seen her lose her cool. “I love you, brother, so I say this from the bottom of my heart. Get out.” She pointed to the door. “Go find her now!”
Warwick expanded with pure raw fury, appearing to want to demolish this room.
Ash’s hand clutched my cloak, dragging me forward and yanking down my hood. “Found.”
Kitty blinked at me. Warwick didn’t move, his gaze straight, a nerve in his cheek twitching.
“Though I think you have a misconstrued idea that his mood is going to improve now.” Ash scoffed.
“It can’t get worse.” Kitty stayed emotionless, but her lips pushed together, almost in a relieved smile, like she was actually happy to see me.
“I doubt that.” Warwick huffed, still not looking at me.
Kitty ignored him, motioning to the men behind me. “And they are?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Killian tug down his hood. His regal and sharp features couldn’t be hidden under the dirt and cuts.
Kitty let out a small gasp, seeing the Lord of the Fae standing in the entry of her whorehouse.
“My liege.” She stumbled for a moment but quickly gathered herself together, dipping her head in respect. “Y-you are supposed to be dead.”
“Seems we aren’t so lucky,” Warwick muttered.
“Yes, I am,” Killian responded, shooting a glare at Warwick. “And I’d like to keep it that way. For now.”
His response finally twisted Warwick around, the legend’s eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.
“We have a lot to catch up on.” I glanced at all of them, then at the door. “But I think it’s best if we move away from here.”