Desire Unchained

He was taking a chance, hanging out in the hospital. Before he “died,” Roag had hung out here because of the endless supply of nurses to screw, but he’d always hated this place, had never understood why his brothers had built it. Who gave a flying fuck about patching up demons? Taking them apart was a lot more fun.

But his Ghouls had been unsuccessful in finding someone who would spy for him, and he didn’t have time to get one of his minions on staff. Revenge had taken far too long as it was, and now that Sheryen had been reanimated, he had only days to find Runa before Sher’s zombielike body gave out. He needed Runa’s blood, and he needed it now.

Wearing the form of a common Slogthu, he was practically invisible to the staff as he kept to the shadows, pretending to be visiting a patient. He wasn’t worried about his brothers’ discovering him—Eidolon didn’t work nights, Wraith spent his nights carousing, and Shade would be dealing with his warg bitch.

Still, a few staff members possessed the ability to see through alteration magic. Not that they’d recognize him, since he resembled a charcoal briquette more than his former self, but any demon masquerading as another would arouse suspicion.

So he watched. Watched for the perfect victim for the next phase in his plan. He wanted to strike his brothers where it hurt—the hospital and its staff. Once his brothers were rattled, they’d make mistakes.

A female Sora—Ciska, according to her name tag—sauntered past, toward the Harrowgate, her red skin smelling faintly of Wraith. Roag’s hackles rose. Too many of the females in this place smelled like his little brother, who was living the life Roag should be living, screwing females without a care in the world.

He’d start having a care. Right now. Because the Sora didn’t know it, but she was about to become his next victim.

He took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with Wraith’s scent and comforting himself with the fact that this would be the last time she smelled of his brother. Because in a few minutes, she was going to smell of nothing but her own terror.





Twelve





Runa didn’t remember much of what had happened the night before—at least, not much of what happened after she’d come out of the shower. She’d gone straight to the tether and chained herself up before Shade had a chance to. Everything after that was a blank, but she did remember shifting back to human form at the same time Shade did. Though she’d still been angry, she’d given in to her raging hormones. She definitely remembered the sheer ecstasy of finally having someone there to relieve the cravings that came every morning following the full moon.

Shade had taken her three times, wordlessly, ruthlessly. Afterward, they’d collapsed into bed, and they still hadn’t spoken a word. Oddly though, he’d tucked her up against him and held her close as they fell asleep. It occurred to her that he’d wanted to make sure she didn’t escape while he was sleeping, but that theory didn’t track with the way his fingers had stroked her skin in long, lazy passes.

Six hours later, Runa awakened, but Shade still slept, so she wrapped up in a robe and padded around the cave, exploring the nooks and crannies, but mostly, she was looking for a phone. She found one in his TV room. Quietly, she checked on Shade to make sure he was still sleeping, and satisfied that he was crashed hard, she slipped outside the cave.

Steamy jungle heat engulfed her. How did he keep the cave so cool and dry, when it was obvious that he didn’t have air conditioning? Odd.

That she was obsessing about how Shade kept his cave cool instead of making the call she needed to make didn’t escape her notice. She had a life outside this weird one she’d stumbled into, and now she had to face it.

Stomach churning, she dialed her brother’s cell phone. He answered on the third ring.

“Arik?”

“Runa. Where are you? I know you aren’t due to check in until tomorrow, but I thought I’d hear from you before now.”

That was because she rarely went more than three or four days without calling Arik. Working for R-XR was lonely; few coworkers wanted to hang out with her socially, and Arik was her only outlet. Apparently, being a werewolf was something of a roadblock to friendship with humans.

She eased away from the cave and propped herself against a tree. “I ran into some complications.”

“Are you okay?” The strain in his voice was obvious even over the static crackle and echo.

“I’m fine. But I need you to research something for me. Maluncoeur.”

She heard the scratch of a pencil on paper, and then, “What is it?”

“No idea.”

“You going to tell me what’s going on?”

She peeked around the tree to the cave opening. All clear. “I was picked up by Ghouls.”

“What? Where are you? Do you need help?”