Desire Unchained

Shade’s lips pulled back in a silent snarl. In a movement so fast Runa didn’t see it until it was over, he shifted into some sort of skinny, spindly demon and swiped an extra-long arm through the bars at Roag. Shade’s claws caught Roag across the chest, and blood splattered on the wooden rack next to him.

Roag yelped and leaped back. Cold, soulless fury flashed in his eyes. “I’m going to enjoy making you suffer. I’m going to enjoy making all of you suffer.” He held his hand to his ribs as he turned to Eidolon. “Did I mention the best part of all this? Besides killing Runa in front of Shade and watching him fade away forever? I’m going to remove a few of Wraith’s choice parts, skin him, and then make you transplant all of Wraith’s good bits onto me.”

Runa’s jaw about hit the floor. Eidolon’s eyes went furious crimson, glowing like Christmas lights. Evil Christmas lights.

“What makes you think I would ever do something like that?” Eidolon’s voice sounded like it had been dredged from the deepest pits of hell.

“Because, dear brother, if you don’t, I’ll torture Tayla in ways you can’t begin to imagine.”

Eidolon’s terror hit her in a blast of cold. “You don’t have Tayla.”

“Not yet. But I will. She’ll be lured to you by your suffering.”

Shade shook his head. “Don’t listen, E. Remember how Wraith couldn’t feel me when I was here?”

“I’ve removed the dampening spell,” Roag said. “She’ll come. And when she does, I’ll be ready.” He stalked to the fire, where several irons had been heating. He nodded to the two burly demons, and they each pulled a glowing iron from the coals. He smiled as he turned back to Shade.

“Time for some fun, boys.”





Twenty





Kynan had no luck finding Shade or Runa. Hell, he couldn’t find Eidolon or Wraith, either. He’d gone back to the hospital and was about to call E again when his cell phone rang—from E’s home number. “Yeah?”

“It’s Tayla.” Her voice vibrated with panic. “Eidolon’s hurt. Oh, my God, Kynan, it’s bad.”

Adrenaline spiked, a freefall dump into the pit of his stomach and a steep mach-climb to the top of his skull all at once, and he struggled to find his calm medic voice. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

A choked sob came over the line. “He called me hours ago from the hospital. Wraith needed him. At Shade’s place, I think. Wraith was freaked out about something. I haven’t heard from him since. Oh, God.”

A cold tremor went up his spine. If the brothers had been together and one was in pain, they were probably all in trouble. “Tayla, listen to me. You can feel Eidolon, right? That’s how you know he’s in pain.”

“Yes. I need to get to him.”

“Can you find him? Can you use your bond to locate him?”

“Yes … and he said something about Roag’s dungeon being in Ireland. I’m going now.”

“You can’t go alone. I’ll go with you.”

“You can’t pass through the Harrowgates.”

He blew out a breath. He’d forgotten about the restrictions on humans. Only dark-souled or unconscious humans could pass through them, so it looked like he’d need to be knocked out. The very idea gave him the creeps—apparently, humans who woke up inside the gates came out dead.

“We can get around the human restriction,” he said. “Meet me here at the hospital.”

“I need Gem. Can you find her?”

“I’ll call her.”

“She’s not answering her cell. She was all upset about some asshole dissing her or something … she went to Vamp. Can you get her?”

Shit. Vamp. The Goth club from hell. And he knew damned good and well just who that asshole was.

“Tay, don’t do something stupid and go by yourself. Wait until we all get back to the hospital. Got it?”

“Hurry, Kynan.”

He hung up and headed straight for Vamp. The Goth club was dark, loud, and weird. Figured it’d be death metal night. Kynan moved through the mass of gyrating bodies, gritting his teeth against the grind of flesh. Half the people wore too much clothing, the other half, not enough. Gem would, no doubt, belong in the latter group, and the thought had him clenching his fists in irritation he had no right to feel.

Ahead, a black and blue head bobbed in the crowd, and he made a beeline for it. He saw Gem before she saw him, and though jealousy burned in his chest at the sight of some tall vampire wannabe dry-humping her as they danced, he couldn’t help but stop and admire her.

From her six-inch-heeled black boots to her black micromini skirt, she was all long legs and long-stemmed rose tattoos winding up the inside of her thigh. She wore a red lace-up corset that pushed her magnificent breasts up and out, and the spiked leather dog collar around her graceful neck was connected to the top with a chain. He’d never been attracted to the Goth style or its fashion, but she owned it, and he found himself wanting to be the man rubbing all over her instead of the loser she was with.