“Do you want her dead?”
He thought about the question for all of two seconds.
No!
The word screamed through his mind as he tried to contemplate killing Faith as he had done to her boss. He’d felt nothing but satisfaction. But he’d seen the shock and horror on Faith’s face. She’d known him in that moment for what he was. A killer.
He didn’t want to kill her, and he didn’t want anyone else to kill her. But he did want her to suffer for what she had done. For the lies, she had told. For making him believe that she was coming to care about him, when in reality she’d been using him.
The thought brought him up short.
Why did it matter whether she cared for him or not? The whole reason he’d wanted her in the first place was because he couldn’t see himself feeling anything for her but lust.
This shouldn’t be affecting him.
But it was.
And how could he blame her for using him when he’d planned to do the same
But he did.
“Shit.”
“Problem?” Ryan asked.
“No.”
Yes. He had a fucking problem. He’d sworn he would never care for another woman and certainly not a human where loss was inevitable. He had to stamp on this right now. In some ways, he hoped she had set Tara up, because then he could really hate her. Though he still wouldn’t let Christian kill her.
He could offer to keep her prisoner though. Take her to the Abyss. Toss her in a dungeon, make her want him, and then fuck her brains out every night until he’d got her out of his system. His dick twitched at the thought.
He had an image of her chained to the wall, naked, and he liked it. He could feel himself growing hot and hard.
“You all right?” Ryan asked.
He growled low in his throat, but the sting of desire subsided. “Yeah, I’m all right.”
“So how can they prove it one way or the other—about Faith, I mean?”
“Christian will use compulsion on her.”
“You mean mind-fuck her.” Ryan frowned.
“Yeah. Is that a problem? You’d rather he kills her?”
“I’d rather he just believed her.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.”
“Anyway. It does no harm.”
“So you say. I still don’t like it.”
The journey to the Order took only fifteen minutes and they didn’t speak again. Clearly, Ryan wasn’t happy, But hell, who was?
They pulled up in the underground parking and he climbed down, went around the back, and opened the double doors. Jonas jumped down first, amazingly agile for a man whole appeared to be in his seventies at the least. Ash suspected he was actually much older. Christian followed, turning to help Tara down. Ash gave her a quick glance over—already, she appeared stronger. The bruises still marred her skin, but she would heal quickly. A black eye, swollen lip, and he could see a ring of fingerprints around her throat. She still held the hand cradled against her chest. If Roz was here, she could have healed her straightaway, but she wasn’t.
Carl came next, and then he reached back in and tugged Faith down. Her hands were cuffed behind her and she landed badly and stumbled against Carl. She rested against the other man’s body as she found her balance, and Ash felt a growl building inside him.
He ground his teeth together.
“We’ll meet in thirty minutes.” Christian nodded to Faith. “Put her in the cells.”
“I’ll take her,” Ash said and wished he hadn’t spoken as everyone, including Faith, turned to look at him. Dark shadows circled her eyes. There was a cut, high on one cheekbone. It wasn’t deep but still slowly seeped blood. She’d stopped bothering to wipe it away and a trail ran down her face and dripped onto the white of her shirt. The hands were cuffed behind her back, forcing her breasts out and his gaze lingered on them a moment, then back to her face.
He caught a flash of fear in her eyes, quickly blanked out. She feared him? He should like that, but he didn’t. He forced himself to look at Tara and hardened his heart against her.
Carl had been watching him; now he gave a curt nod. “Don’t damage her,” he said.
It was none of Carl’s goddamn business what he did to Faith. He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. She felt brittle, breakable almost, and he loosened his grip as he led her toward the elevator.
Once inside, he released her and pressed the button for the lower floor. He half expected her to start talking, to defend herself, protest her innocence. Instead, she closed her eyes and rested one shoulder against the wall.
She still didn’t speak as he led her down the corridor to the cells. This was very similar to where they had found Tara—the place was meant to be intimidating.