Читать книгу The Darkest Touch - Gena Showalter - Страница 12
ОглавлениеDUDE. THE RED QUEEN,Torin thought, incredulous. No wonder the immortals in the skies had merely whispered about her. Insane? Cruel? Hell, yeah. They’d probably assumed saying her name aloud would have a Beetlejuice effect and actually summon her.
Now, at least, he understood the title. With such power, she could kill entire armies in a snap and then some. And this is the female who threatened my friends. My only family.
Seriously. Duuude.
The demon shuddered.
Hidden by gnarled tree limbs that were covered with thorns and brittle leaves that snapped at him with actual teeth, Torin watched Keeley from a distance, like a creeper, completely dumbfounded by her. She’d stood in place as hunks of the dungeon rained around her, and not a single injury had she sustained. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Her arm was a wreck. But still. She’d brought the prison tumbling down, just as she’d claimed, and she hadn’t seemed to lift a finger to do it.
What else could she do?
Something stirred within him. The same fierceness he used to feel on the battlefield. The very sensation he’d once lived for—and had never thought to have again.
He smiled.
Idiot! This was one battle he may not be able to win.
Could anyone? Had he not freed the other prisoners on his way out, every single one of them would have died today. Would she have cared?
Definitely not.
Speaking of the prisoners...one of the males had been familiar to him. Emaciated, but familiar, rousing a sense of anger inside him. Torin had been unable to place him—or later, to find him.
Not that it mattered anymore. He had a bigger threat on his plate. In more ways than one.
He’d lost track of the number of times he’d almost gone back for Keeley. Not to hurt her or yell at her as he should have wanted, but simply to see her again, to tease her. To beg for her forgiveness. To prove she wasn’t as heart-stoppingly gorgeous as he remembered. To end the stupid tugging, an invisible cord constantly urging him closer. To just...be with her.
How stupid was that?
I have to kill her.
A pang of remorse ripped through his chest as he pictured the powerful, courageous beauty dead in a grave.
Damn it! He shouldn’t feel conflicted about her fate. And he shouldn’t have to remind himself of her threat against his family.
Time for a little negative reinforcement. Torin circled his fingers around the thick tree branch at his side, granting the foliage permission to feast on him.
Razor-sharp teeth grazed his skin, and blood dripped from his hand. The leaves erupted into a feeding frenzy like piranha, leaving nothing but bone. Hurt like hell as he pulled his arm away. He didn’t have to worry about the plant spreading the illness—it would die within the hour.
As he healed, he studied Keeley more intently. Two things became uncomfortably clear. The negative reinforcement hadn’t helped, the desire to slay her remaining curiously absent. And a desire to throw her down in a test of strength grew. A test of strength—that was all.
Her eyes were wide and sensuously uptilted as if forever beckoning the men around her to bed. Strip me, they said. Do anything you want to me.
Though her hair was caked with dirt and tangled, the strands glinted brilliant cobalt-blue in the muted sunlight. Her lips were red, erotically plump, the kind women were willing to pay a fortune to have...and men were willing to pay a fortune to have all over them. Her skin was flawless, as pure as ice, and also tinted blue.
Extraordinary. A living, breathing Sugar Plum Fairy, Dungeon Edition.
Cue the porno soundtrack.
He groaned. Not this. Anything but this.
Centuries ago, Torin had spent the bulk of his time screwing every woman he met—in his mind. And he’d been good. A god among men. Nothing like the too-rough soldier who’d been unable to seal the deal. He’d taken his lovers against walls, bent over coffee tables and on the ground as wild as an animal, and they’d loved it.
My gateway drug, opening doors I will never be able to enter, taunting me with what I can never have.
Keeley lifted her arm and stretched out her index finger. Lightning split the sky, striking the tip. She wasn’t felled and never even wavered on her feet. But she did smile.
What the hell was she?
Disease banged against Torin’s head, reckless in a bid to get away from the girl.
For once, Torin agreed with the demon. Warring with Keeley would not be a quick grab and stab as he’d expected. It would take time. Time he didn’t have. Cameo and Viola weren’t going to find themselves. And let’s not forget the need to hunt and destroy Pandora’s box. It was the only thing in this world or any other capable of killing him and all his friends in a single swoop.
Or so he’d thought.
Though he’d made no noise, Keeley’s head snapped in his direction. Her ice-blue gaze locked on him and narrowed. Despite the distance between them—roughly a hundred yards—he felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
And he liked it.
Just kill her and go.
“Hiding?” she asked. “I’m disappointed in you.”
Damn. In their time apart, he hadn’t built an immunity to her I-just-want-to-suck-you voice. Though it probably wouldn’t have mattered if he had. She wore a dirty, tattered dress, the sleeves torn off, the thigh-length hem frayed, and it was totally Tarzan’s-Jane sexy.
He stepped into a beam of light. “Well, I’m curious. How did you topple an entire building? And why did you wait so long to do it?”
“Torin, Torin, Torin.” She tsked. Despite her seeming composure, her eyes blazed with hatred. “You are demon-possessed. You murder people with a touch. I doubt using my secrets against me is too far outside your wheelhouse. You’ll understand if I refuse to answer?”
“Of course. But with your skills, I’m surprised more people don’t know about you.”
“I rarely leave survivors. There’s less gossip that way.” She looked him over once...twice...going more slowly the second time. She licked her lips, making him think—
No. Don’t think. He was already hard as steel.
Not even Cameo, the gorgeous keeper of Misery, had affected him this strongly—and with so little—and they’d dated for months.
“Feel like doing a girl a favor?” Keeley asked. “Tell me how you opened the door to your cell. The prison was designed to respond to Cronus, and you, Lord of the Underworld, are not him.”
It had taken Torin only a second to unlock the door, and he’d wanted to kick himself for not escaping days ago. How could he have forgotten Cronus had sealed the All-key inside his chest? That it could open any lock, anytime, anywhere.
“No favors,” he said. “Not today.” Attack her. Now!
“Of course.” She smiled and, though it was nothing more than a malevolent display of teeth, it was like she’d found a hidden, magic button connected directly to his reproductive system.
For intense, sizzling arousal, press here.
He backed up a step. Isn’t her. Can’t be her. His hobbies usually distracted him from unwanted desire, but he didn’t currently have access to a computer or video games, or a kitchen, or a camera, or a pool table, or a chessboard, or a pack of cards, or a thousand other things. And, okay, wow. Apparently not thinking about sex, not trying to get sex, and not actually having sex equaled lots of free time for Tor Tor.
But even though it wasn’t her—really, really can’t be her—he couldn’t stop himself from imagining her dressed as a concubine. Glittery bra. Blue, of course, paired with sheer pantalets. No panties.
In his mind, he pushed her to her knees and demanded she swallow every throbbing inch of him.
She had that penchant for swallowing, after all.
She obeyed him eagerly—couldn’t live another moment without knowing the taste of him—opening her mouth, taking him deep. All the way, until she reached the base. A moan of rapture left her, the sound vibrating along his length, intensifying his pleasure.
Yes. That. That’s what he wanted.
He had to grit his teeth against the magnificence of the sensations coursing through him. The longing for what he could never have—and shouldn’t want. The heat. The race of his heartbeat.
Enough. Stop!
Had Mari taught him nothing?
Had Cameo? She’d never flat-out stated her dissatisfaction with their arrangement, but he’d felt the emotion like another entity in the room. She’d had needs. To be handled by her lover. Petted and caressed. Massaged. Comforted. Squeezed, kneaded...filled. Needs he couldn’t meet.
Destined to disappoint. Always.
Besides, this female meant to kill him. And if not him, his friends. For a crime he had committed. This was no silly misunderstanding they could work out with a simple heart-to-heart convo.
Keeley splayed her hands, all look how awesome I am. “I’m going to do you a favor and let you pick how this goes down. Would you rather I remove both of your arms or force you to dig out each of your organs with your own hands?” Somehow she appeared even calmer and the flames of her hatred even hotter.
“How do you plan to do either of those things if you can’t touch me?”
“Why tell you,” she said, “when I can show you? Spoiler alert: my next trick is going to nut-kick the last one.”
“Nut-kick?” If not for her murderous rage, she might have been the perfect woman. “Real queens don’t talk that way.”
“This queen does.”
A second later, the foundation dropped out from under his feet. No, not true. It hadn’t dropped; he had been catapulted into the air where he hovered, his limbs pulled taut...and tauter...until both of his shoulders were jerked from their sockets. His skin began to tear. Sharp pains, everywhere. Any moment, he would lose each of his limbs.
The perverse thing about the experience? He liked the pressure, savored it.
“How are you doing this?” he asked through panting breaths.
She blew him a kiss.
Hardcore. Like foreplay for warriors.
I’m a sick man. Har har.
“Right now,” she said, “you are experiencing an extreme bout of helplessness. The same helplessness Mari must have felt as your fever pillaged and plundered her immune system.”
Forget the pressure. Guilt choked him.
Keeley’s chin trembled. “You made her cry, warrior. Sometimes I swear I can still hear her sobbing.”
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Do it, then. End me.” He deserved it. And she would be satisfied, his friends safe from her wrath.
“So quickly?” she asked. “No. We’re just getting started.”
Some of the pressure eased.
“Come on!” he shouted as his wounds healed. “What are you waiting for? You won’t get another chance like this.”
“Actually, I’ll get as many chances as I like.”
“That confident in your ability?”
“Perhaps I’m that confident in your lack of ability.”
The taunt burned so badly he could have used a little aloe vera on his soul. Always on the bench, never in the game. Forcing an easy tone, he said, “I’ve been nice to you on account of your loss and everything—”
“Which was your fault!” she spat, the pressure increasing all over again.
“—but my goodwill has officially run out.”
An animalistic roar suddenly echoed through the forest, interrupting the beginning of a long, rambling speech that would have had no point but that of postponement, giving him a chance to think of a way out of this.
Torin dropped, crashing into the ground. Even as he lost his breath, he jumped to his feet. Behind him, twigs snapped. Limbs slapped together. Another roar sounded, this one louder, closer.
Something was headed this way—and fast.
He’d been in these woods for days, and there’d been no sign of life. Well, other than the carnivorous plants. Now this?
He looked to Keeley. She put her hands on her hips, every bit the annoyed female. Funny thing. Even that was sexy.
He punched the side of his skull in an effort to clear his thoughts, and it actually helped. He palmed a dagger he’d brought from home, ready to face this newest challenge.
The creature arrived, surrounded by a cloud of dust. Realization hit—this is an Unspoken One. Half man, half beast. Rather than hair, snakes danced and hissed from his scalp. And rather than skin, he had what looked to be the charred remains of fur. Two long fangs protruded over his bottom lip like sabers, reaching his chin. Though he had human hands, his feet were razor-sharp hooves.
His black gaze roved over Torin, cataloging every detail, and his forked tongue stroked over his lips. “Mine.”
* * *
KEELEY STUDIED HER newest opponent. Such an ugly thing. The Unspoken One must have heard the prison fall and come running, determined to find out what had happened.
Now he appeared eager to have a nice Torin dinner.
Get in line. She might not be a carnivore like the Unspoken One, but she would have liked a nibble—or ten.
Stop flirting with the idea of seduction and fight! She thought of all the times this creature and his siblings had invaded the prison, frantic to break through the bars and feast on the prisoners. Though they’d never gotten past the bars, they had reached through and managed to grab hold of those who’d stepped too close; she’d heard the horrendous fruits of their labors. The screams. The pleas for mercy that were never granted. The victorious cackles of glee.
Payback was going to hurt.
As she prepared to render her first strike, Torin flew through the dust and sliced the tip of a dagger across the creature’s throat...only to disappear. Where had he gone? He had to be nearby. According to Galen, Torin was not an immortal capable of flashing.
The Unspoken One remained on his feet, healing quickly and growing angrier.
Torin reappeared and struck—again and again and again—inflicting more damage every time. The Unspoken One tried to latch on to him. Tried being the key word. Torin displayed excitement rather than fear, always ducking at the perfect moment.
As much as she hated to admit it, the warrior’s masterful skill impressed her.
The problem was he wouldn’t make actual contact with the beast or throw a punch. Wouldn’t even kick out his legs. Determined to prevent a plague? Even among the vile Unspoken Ones?
Maybe he truly did feel bad about what he’d done to Mari—Keeley flattened her hand against her stomach to slow the sudden churn of sickness—but that wouldn’t change his fate. It couldn’t. She had one redeeming quality: her integrity. She’d promised to end him, and she would.
The Unspoken One swiped a claw at Torin, and this time Keeley took it personally.
Torin was hers to kill. No one else’s. Anyone who so much as thought about harming him automatically signed their own death warrant.
“I’ll give you a five-second head start,” she shouted to the Unspoken One. “I suggest you run—fast.”
At the sound of her voice, the creature froze. His black gaze swung to her and narrowed. “You.”
“Four.” Keeley fluffed her hair. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about my fondness for viscera and my distaste for showing mercy. Well, I assure you, they’re both true. Just ask your brother. Oh, wait. You can’t. He approached my cell and I gutted him. Three.”
Torin dove through the air, slicing through the Unspoken One’s eye. A bellow of pain echoed. The beast at last got his paws on Torin, batting him in the chest. Torin soared over what remained of the drawbridge into the murky moat below.
Death warrant signed, sealed and about to be delivered. “Two. One.”
“Always thought you’d be the tastiest,” the beast crowed, returning his attention to her. He took a step toward her, and though a hundred yards separated them one moment, he was in front of her the next. He towered over her, his fetid breath fanning her face, burning her skin. “Finally get to find out if I was right.”
“No one taught you the value of a good toothbrush, I see.” She waved her hand under her nose.
“Don’t worry. I’ll clean my teeth...with your bones.” He swung at her—Unspoken Ones so enjoyed tenderizing their meals.
She sent a bolt of power slamming into his chest, causing his entire body to seize. She was about to send another bolt when something hard slammed into her side, knocking her out of the way. That something maintained a tight, intractable hold, traveling with her, twisting midair, taking the brunt of impact when they landed.
She caught her breath and regained her equilibrium—only to realize a panting, scowling Torin loomed above her, a muscle flexing in his jaw.
Fool! “Why did you do that?” she demanded.
“What kind of idiot female just stands there while a beast triple her size prepares to knock her brains right out of her ear hole?”
He is...helping me?
But why?
Thoughts...derailing...
Wet hair clung to Torin’s face, droplets of water trickling down, down, washing away streaks of dirt. Spiky lashes framed emerald eyes glittering with a sensual blend of menace and lust.
He was raw sexuality, his masculinity proving savage enough to batter through every feminine defense she’d ever erected, drawing a hot, carnal response from her. Tremors, breathlessness.
Unending hunger.
Knowing the Unspoken One was out for the count, at least for a few minutes more, she reached up to trace the outline of Torin’s beautiful lips. He stayed put, perhaps trapped by the same desperate need she felt—definitely daring her to do it, to take what she wanted—but at the last second, he reeled backward, as if she’d planned to strike him rather than caress him.
“Don’t,” he snapped. “As long as there are clothes between us, you’ll be fine, but skin-to-skin will destroy even you.”
Anger. With him—and herself. How could she have forgotten his taint?
Relief. Weakness of any kind was not allowed.
Anger again. He was Mari’s killer! The enemy. Desire for Torin could not be stronger than desire for revenge.
Her bones began to vibrate, the ground to shake. The wind whipped into a dangerous frenzy. Thunder boomed as the sky darkened to an oppressive black.
Torin searched for the source of the tumult, not realizing it came from her.
The Unspoken One recovered sooner than expected and flashed to them, swatting the distracted Torin out of the way and grabbing Keeley by the neck. She didn’t struggle as she was lifted off her feet. There was no need.
“Not so haughty now, are you, female?”
“Someone has a toilet-paper word of the day, doesn’t he?”
A sharp lance of pain in her neck. He’d just broken her spine. Oh, well.
“I want you to know the great pleasure I will derive from squeezing you so forcefully your head pops off.” His voice was like razors, slicing at her, his grin slow and triumphant...and all the more evil for it. “I’ll use the wound like a straw and drain you dry.”
Creative. “It’ll take...more than you...to end me.” The vibrations around them intensified, soon spilling into him.
Confusion furrowed his brow just before the ground opened up, threatening to swallow him whole. He released her in a bid to jump to safety, though she didn’t fall so much as an inch. No, she remained in the air, the wind coming harder, lashing the ends of her hair and the hem of her ruined gown.
The night-dark clouds undulated, screaming as they travailed...and finally gave birth to a violent storm. Daggers of ice pelted the land...the Unspoken One. Slash. Slash. Slash. The cuts went deeper than those Torin had given him, his skin tearing, blood leaking.
Grinning, she crooked her finger at him. The Unspoken One tried to plant his heels and remain in place, but he wasn’t strong enough to oppose the lasso of her power, and all too soon he stood only a few inches away from her, at the edge of the rupture. He’d hoped to harm her. Had hoped to harm Torin.
Now he died.
Torin swooped in low, running his dagger across the Unspoken One’s ankles. With a bellow, the beast dropped to his knees. But just before he landed, he twisted and once again swiped a beefy arm at the warrior. He missed. Torin rolled to a crouch several yards away, and even though the ice pelted him, too, causing the same slashing damage, he kept his narrowed gaze on the Unspoken One, preparing to launch another attack.
Can’t let him. My emotions...almost too strong to control...
If she wasn’t careful, Torin would be killed in a moment of chaos.
Where was the justice in that?
Deep breath in...out...but “almost” had already crashed and burned. She’d felt too much for too long, without any kind of outlet. She attempted to flash Torin out of range. Maybe she succeeded. Maybe she didn’t. The rage kicked down the walls of her defenses and burst from her; she lost track of her surroundings. Her spine realigned, healed and arched, causing her body to bow.
Howls of agony erupted—and they did not come from her.
The riiiip of skin.
The crrrack of breaking bones.
The pop of a body bursting. The whoosh of rushing blood. The splatter. The downpour of shredded organs.
Warm liquid splashed over her. Shrapnel beat against her.
But as quickly as the storm had come, it quieted. Keeley floated to the ground. She wiped her eyes to clear her field of vision. The Unspoken One had been reduced to debris—and none of it was identifiable. He would not be able to recover from this. He would never regenerate. This was it for him, the end.
Good riddance.
But...there was no sign of Torin.
Either she’d flashed him away as hoped, or he’d died, his guts mixed in the carnage. Remorse speared her straight through the heart. Because she might not get to exact the kind of revenge she’d hoped. Not because of—no, impossible—an underlying sense of loss.
I can’t miss him.
Or could she? Torin was Mari’s killer, yes, but he was also the only link Keeley had to the girl. Her only link to the land of the living.
She attempted to flash to him. When she stayed put, panic snuck in, an assassin to her calm. She could lock on anyone...except the dead.
Well, he wasn’t dead. He was a fearsome Lord of the Underworld, and he could simply be moving too quickly for her to pinpoint.
Yes, that had to be it.
She marched forward. He was out there, and she would find him. No matter where he hid. They would finish their war, and she would find another link to the land of the living.
Life, meet perfection.
