Lore hated leaving Idess, but he had a demon to face. At least he could take comfort in the fact that Idess couldn’t flash into Sheoul. No way did he want her getting messed up in this.
The moment Lore entered the den, his bond-pain eased to a dull ache. Detharu was waiting in his chamber, looking really fucking pissed off. The foul stench of someone’s terror soured the air, so thick Lore could taste it on the back of his tongue.
“Lore,” Deth snarled. “My patience with you is at an end.”
“I can see you aren’t in the best of moods,” Lore said, reversing course. “I’ll come back later.”
Deth’s guards blocked the doorway, and Lore turned back, carefully schooling his expression to hide the fact that he knew he was in for a world of hurt.
“Where is the female?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“And you’re ugly. What’s your point?”
Deth shot out of his seat. “You will bring her to me.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“I am going to make you suffer,” Deth snarled.
“Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“Oh, yes.” Anticipation glinted in the male’s eyes as Deth shambled toward him. “Have you killed your mark yet?”
“I still have time.” Lore studied his nails. “I’ll get to it.”
“Getting to it will be difficult, if you’re locked in my pit for a month.”
“You can’t do that.” Lore crossed his arms over his chest, still playing nonchalant. “I’m on a deadline.”
“Then you should have thought about that before you spirited away the female.”
A shiver of dread skittered up Lore’s spine. “Look,” he said calmly, even though inside he was sweating bullets, “I swear, as soon as I have Kynan’s head, I’ll submit myself for your punishment. Whatever you want.”
Deth’s steel-gloved fist nailed Lore in the jaw. Pain spiderwebbed up his face, into his skull, but he refused to show any reaction.
“You will not negotiate with me!” Deth roared. “I am going to punish you for taking the female. Right now.”
Lore snorted. “Pussy stuff.” Antagonizing Deth wasn’t the smartest move, but pain was coming no matter what, so Lore might as well get in a few jabs of his own.
This time, Deth’s blow struck him in the chest, those knuckle spikes puncturing, clawing like an eagle’s talons and snatching the breath right out of Lore’s lungs. Lore staggered back, but he managed a smile and a raspy, “Love the foreplay.”
Deth snarled, blasting Lore with his fetid breath. “Does Sin also love it?”
The demon wanted to see fear, but Lore would never give him that satisfaction. “Dunno. Probably.”
Deth got right in his face. Again with the rotten breath. “I cannot wait for you to fail your mission. I will make you watch as Sin is slaughtered. Her screams will be the music that fills this den for weeks.”
Lore’s skin grew tight, his muscles twitchy, and he was on the verge of erupting. A growl escaped as though through a relief valve. “I will kill you someday. I swear it.”
Deth laughed. Flickering flames from the fire in the hearth and torches on the walls played with the shadows on his face, twisting his expression into something even more hideous. “How many times have I heard that?” He shoved his fist into Lore’s gut and twisted so the spikes gored him viciously, ripping and tearing. “Now, will you bring the female to me?”
Pain wrenched through Lore, not all of it physical. He would never bring Idess here, and he would save Sin. Somehow, he’d protect them both.
“Fuck you,” he spat, even as he fought to stay on his feet.
Deth hissed, and the trapdoor beneath Lore gave way. After a twenty-foot drop, he made a bone-breaking landing on the wet, cold floor in the dungeon. A Nightlash female stood next to a wall of torture implements, smiling at Lore as if he were a gift.
Foreplay was over. It was time for the main event.
The sound of torture was like the sound of someone coughing during a movie. Rariel found both to be extremely irritating.
“Add an extra lash for me,” he said to Deth. Lore had seriously screwed up something Rariel would have paid to see; Idess as an assassin slave. “And make sure his life will not be endangered by this.”
Having Idess show up to protect Lore, now that he was Primori—and hadn’t that been a nasty surprise—would definitely be a bad thing. She couldn’t flash in here under normal circumstances, but Rariel didn’t want to test her ability to do so if her Primori was facing death. Though it might be worth it to see her forced into slavery as an assassin…
Deth gave an indignant snort. “My torturer is a master, trained in all arts and all species’ weaknesses. She would never accidentally kill one of her victims.”
Like Rariel hadn’t heard that before. “Just be careful. And I want his dagger. I have a special use for it.”
Deth signaled a sentry, who disappeared.
“You will have him healed after this is over?”
“I don’t like it,” Deth growled, “but since he is on a deadline for your contract, I’ll use my newly acquired Sem assassin to heal him.”