Desire Unchained

“Right. Because sane people cut up other people to sell their parts.”


That earned Shade another whack with the club, this time in the shoulder. “You dare judge me? I had nothing until after I healed from the fire and started up this operation, but now I stand to take all you and our brothers took from me.”

“It wasn’t us,” Shade repeated.

“Liar! I know it was. And for that, you will all suffer. Just like your sister.”

Roag signaled to the Nightlash, who came forward with his own club. Runa screamed, but Shade just closed his eyes. Fighting would be pointless, and Roag would get off on it. Instead, he bore the beating until his knees gave out.

At some point the blows stopped and Roag and the Nightlash left, but he had no idea how long ago that had been. Felt like days. Stones and straw bit into his knees as he knelt on the floor of the cell. His head throbbed and his mouth was dry, and he was only now coming around again.

Runa’s touch, light and feathery, might have had something to do with that.

“How long?” he croaked.

“I don’t know. A while.” She pulled her hand away. They were still chained to the walls, barely able to touch and only if they stretched.

“Son of a bitch,” he breathed, settling painfully onto one hip. “That son of a bitch.”

“That demon … Roag … you thought he was dead?”

“For three years now.”

Shade stared past her, at the stone wall that oozed moisture, but in his head, he was seeing a replay of the day he’d learned Roag had died. Only later had it come to light that The Aegis had somehow located the magic-cloaked demon pub and slaughtered everyone inside. When the Guardians were done, they burned Brimstone to the ground. How Roag had survived was a mystery, but the fire damage explained why Shade hadn’t recognized his voice, which was now so gravelly and deep that his Irish accent had been distorted.

“I’m guessing that when he looked normal, with the blond hair, he was impersonating one of your other brothers? Wraith, right?”

“Yeah.” He glanced over at Runa, wondering how she was handling all this, but man, she was a trouper, sitting there all calm and cool when Shade just wanted to go as batshit loco as Roag.

“Is … is there anything I can do?” she said softly.

“Only if you can bring back my sister.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He risked another glance at her. “I thought you hated me.”

Her head snapped back as though he’d slapped her. “I would never wish this on you.” She looked down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. “I know what it’s like to love a sibling.”

Shame shrank his skin. He remembered her brother, her devotion to him, her misery as she watched him waste away. They’d been close—she’d told Shade how her brother had been awarded custody of her when she was sixteen, after their father disappeared and their mother had been hospitalized. Arik had protected her as a brother should.

As Shade should have protected Skulk.

“How is Arik?” he asked, needing something—anything—to keep from screaming.

“He’s great.” She slid him a sidelong glance. “Thanks to you.”

Shade cranked his head around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You healed him.” She searched his face, but he didn’t know what she was looking for. “I know you did.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t. I know it was you. Arik was dying, and then you came over … and after you left, his condition began to improve.”

Shade sighed. Three days before Runa found him with the two females, he’d gone to her house, an older two-story in New Rochelle, to drop off the jacket she’d left at his place. He’d also planned to make a clean break from her. He’d sensed her growing attachment, her need for more than he could give. The moment he walked through the door, the rank stench of death had assaulted him. Runa had been on the phone, so he’d wandered through the house until he found the master bedroom, where her brother had been lying in bed, a living skeleton.

“He was suffering from a demon-inflicted disease,” Shade said, when her stare made it clear that she wasn’t going to let this drop.

“What did you do?”

“Shit.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. He hadn’t wanted her to know any of this. He hadn’t wanted her to feel grateful or that she owed him. The last thing he needed was for her to harbor any kind of tender feelings toward him.

“Shade? How did you cure him?”

A scuffle broke out in a nearby cell, followed by obscenities, a few barks of pain, and then things settled down. The silence, with the exception of the nerve-wrackingly incessant dripping noise, was enough incentive to keep Shade talking. Anything was better than listening to the sound of his own thoughts.