Desire Unchained

His words rang through his head, a harsh truth because he had sold out a brother. He’d betrayed his own kind, his own flesh and blood.

And he’d fucking gotten off on it.

Three years ago, while hunting New York City street gang members for sport more than out of a need to feed, he’d run into an Aegis slayer. Naturally, the moron had tried to kill him. Wraith supposed the guy had been an adequate enough fighter, but there wasn’t a being on earth or in the demon realm of Sheoul who could take Wraith in hand-to-hand, and within seconds, he had the guy on the ground, dagger at his jugular.

It had been tempting to kill him, to drain him dry with his teeth. Instead, he’d given the guy a tip. Well, more than a tip. Wraith had practically drawn the Aegi a map to Roag.

Roag, who’d had a tenuous hold on sanity before s’genesis, and who had gone about as evil as could be after. Wraith and his brothers had agreed that none of them should have to live like that, but no matter what Roag did, Eidolon demanded full investigations before any severe punitive action was taken.

But the investigations took too long, and finally, after finding the remains of a human female Roag had raped to death, Wraith took action.

He could have killed Roag himself, but E would have figured it out. Wraith hadn’t counted on The Aegis taking out the entire demon bar where Roag had been hanging out. Not that it had been a big deal—so what if a bunch of vamps and demons got whacked? But didn’t it just figure that the one who was supposed to have died was the one who survived.

And now, because of Wraith, Roag had tortured Shade, nearly killed him, and had killed Skulk, one of the few females at UG Wraith hadn’t screwed—and not because Shade would have blown a valve. Wraith had kinda liked her in a big-brother way.

And now she was dead, and Shade was suffering. Because of him.

“I’m so sorry, Shade,” he whispered.

He threw his head back against the wall, eyes closed, mind jonesing for the mellow blotto of a drug binge or the cranked-up rush of a battle high. Sex wasn’t working; he could screw every female in the hospital and it wouldn’t be enough. He needed more.

Balling his fist, he punched it into the wall. The pain gave him a momentary buzz, but dammit, nothing was going to fix his life. He figured he still had a year left before s’genesis, and then he wouldn’t give a shit about any of this.

But right now it hurt. And with the exception of self-inflicted pain, he didn’t do hurt well.





“This is like the plot from a bad comic book,” Roag growled. “I’m surrounded by complete incompetence.”

A Drec minion knelt before him, his head bowed. It had been nearly a day since Shade escaped, and the mess still hadn’t been cleaned up. Several of his Ghouls were missing, and Sheryen hadn’t returned from Eternal yet, which wasn’t unusual, but which pissed him off nevertheless.

“Only two of our other captives escaped when their cell doors were damaged by falling stone,” the Drec said.

Roag’s withered hand curled into a fist. He wasn’t concerned about the other escapees. What really chapped his cracked hide was that Shade and the warg bitch had broken free.

Fury seared him, shivered painfully across his ruined skin. Wraith was going to pay for ruining his life. For turning him into a burned-out shell.

Because he had no doubt Wraith was ultimately responsible. The night at Brimstone played over and over in his head, a movie that was stuck in a permanent play-rewind-play cycle. He’d been minding his own business, fucking a couple of faeries in the back of the pub, when the place had been overrun by Aegi. Roag noticed that one slayer, a Mohawk-haired punk, had been searching for someone in particular, and when he laid eyes on Roag, he’d zeroed in.

Roag had known, in that moment, that he’d been targeted. Instantly, he used his gift to enter the slayer’s mind, and he’d seen a memory in the slayer’s head. One where he’d been tipped off by Wraith, given directions to Brimstone and a description of Roag. His little brother had even sweetened the pot by telling the Aegi that he’d pay for proof of Roag’s death.

Thanks to s’genesis, Roag had been able to shapeshift into something bigger and meaner, and he’d ripped that Aegi apart. When the pub erupted in flames, the only thing that had saved his life was that the demon he’d shifted into was immune to fire. Shifting into another species didn’t bring with it the special gifts unique to the species, so Roag hadn’t been completely immune, but he’d received enough resistance to prevent him from burning to a pile of ash. Still, if not for Solice showing up after the slayers left, he’d have died.