Blood Lands (Savage Lands #5)

Zander strolled deeper into the garage, flipping open a large locker built into the wall.


I blinked.

“Fuck, I’m hard,” Warwick muttered next to me, making me snort. Though I probably had to agree with him.

The entire cabinet was filled with weapons. Handguns to rifles, knives to swords, dynamite sticks to grenades. Killian was stocked and ready for battle if any enemy were to breach his land.

Warwick went straight to the bikes, his hand sweeping over the curves of the sleek black design, his eyes glossing over with reverence. I had no doubt Killian got these from the Unified Nations. They were too well made for anything in the Eastern Bloc. “Never thought I’d want something Killian had.” He trailed his palm up the engine of the motorbike.

I leaned against it, popping up my eyebrow. Warwick stood, his form looming over me, his voice gravelly. “Good thing you were never something he had, Kovacs.”

“Think so?” I taunted, thinking back to when I kissed Killian on the veranda, when Warwick’s shade had stepped in.

He gripped my hair, holding my head in place. “Well, then I’ve taken both from him and will ride them long and hard until they know they are mine.” He rumbled against my lips, spearing desire between my legs, and hitching my breath, a snarl lifting my lip. “Don’t even pretend you aren’t dripping right now and wish I could fuck you on this bike. I can feel your pussy throbbing, princess.” His teeth nipped my bottom lip, tugging on it, the feel of his tongue sliding through my folds before he backed away, leaving me grappling and horny as he sauntered over to the weapons cabinet.

“Fuck you,” my shadow murmured in his ear.

He let out a laugh, turning and winking at me. He really was insufferable, but damn he was right.

Eliza and Zander were already loaded up with guns and knives, rolling a bike out of the garage. Being a horse shifter, Zander could be his own transportation, but not for that length of time and speed.

All of us were in similar outfits, black on black. Eliza let me borrow some of her clothes, Warwick taking whatever Killian had in the closets. His clothes fit Warwick extremely tight, showing off every muscle in his thighs and the unbelievable arc of his ass.

I loaded myself with weapons, stuffing my boots with blades, and proceeded to the sleek bike, climbing on behind Warwick. Wrapping my arms around his middle, I let my shadow slip into his trousers, my tongue licking up the vein in his cock.

“Fuck!” He hissed, jolting at my imaginary touch.

I withdrew with a conspiratorial grin, leaning into his ear. “Ride long and hard, Farkas.”





The cold night bitterly sliced at my skin, the hair under my beanie flagellating my face like thin whips. Clouds kept most of the sky hidden, the wind howling in my ears as the motorcycles made their way down the road, nearing the borders of Hungary, Austria, and Slovakia. Though with Markos’s new reach, I no longer trusted we’d be safe from the HDF once we passed the borders.

A tingle walked up my spine, shivering the back of my neck. Turning my head over my shoulder, all I saw was Zander and Eliza behind us, their single headlight the only other occupant on the road. I shifted on the seat, feeling the itchy sensation, unsettled and jumpy from the time we left Killian’s property and got onto the motorway.

Keeping my gun cocked and ready in my grip, as my gaze constantly darted around, feeling at any moment something was going to jump out at us. But miles and miles went by, and there was no hint of anything. We were so close to the border, with only a mile left.

Breathing out, I leaned my face into Warwick’s back, giving myself a moment to soak in his warmth. My face hurt from the cold, every part of me willing us to cross into Slovakia.

One moment was all it took.

Tiny sounds crackled in the air, the bike skidding as the tires deflated under us, slipping and sliding us off the road. I caught sight of a spike strip lying across the dark road.

Blinding headlights burst in front of us right at the border, the squeal of tires pitched the air as three motorcycles next to the car lurched for us.

“Ambush!” Warwick bellowed back at Zander, steering the unusable bike into a ditch near old train tracks. Leaping off together, we started shooting double-handed at the unknown assailants, trying to guard Zander and Eliza. Zander stopped before hitting the spike strip, driving off the road on the other side, Eliza already shooting.

If our bike was working, we could have easily cut across the grass and headed for the main motorway, but now we were stuck.

A growl of an engine jerked my head behind us; another big truck with three motorcycles was coming up behind us.

Dread rolled in my gut.

“Warwick?” I dragged his attention to the group closing in on us. “This doesn’t feel like a raid party.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He swore under his breath. Holstering one of his guns, he yanked a weapon off the back of the bike, which reminded me of his claw-cleaver he had lost along the way. “Cover me.”

I nodded, my finger on the trigger as the first three motorcycles got closer. Warwick didn’t even wait. Barreling toward them, he swung the cleaver around with a roar. The sound of the blade slicing through flesh and bone hit my ears, followed the gurgling cry of a man before a head rolled onto the pavement. His bike tipped over, sliding across the road, sparks spewing up into the sky.

Shouts and cries came from the other men, bullets volleying at us. Eliza shot another one in the head as Warwick spun again, slicing through the arm of the last man, the limb splatting onto the ground next to my boots. With a guttural scream, he fell from the bike, bleeding out before Eliza shot him in the head.

Ice flooded my veins, terror filling my stomach when I spotted the symbol on the clothed arm laying at my feet.

The patch I had sewn on countless uniforms in Věrhăza. HDF.

Panic urged me to glance back at the truck heading for us, motorcycles in front of it. It wasn’t a normal vehicle. It was an armored truck. Istvan’s.

“It’s HDF!” I yelled at everyone. I attempted to pull at my powers as I did in the pit, but to little avail.

“Go! Go!” Warwick waved at Zander and Eliza. “They don’t want you. Get across the border.”

“We aren’t leaving you!” Eliza screamed back.

The armored truck in front of us roared to life. I could see only a single driver inside, heading for us. It struck me only because HDF were always in pairs.

“We’ll be right behind. We’ll run for it.” Warwick replied as gunfire came from the approaching riders.

“No!” She burrowed down, stubborn as her brother. The girl was no stranger to a gun, looking like a badass.

“Dammit, Eliza, go!” he bellowed, pointing to Zander. “Go!”

Zander nodded, revving the engine, urging Eliza to get on the back.

She glanced between us, sorrow reflecting in her eyes, before she ran for the bike.

“Eliza...” I called to her, her head twisting to me. I took a breath. “Sedlec Ossuary,” I said the name of the church Povstat hid under. The sacred knowledge that could destroy every life inside if discovered by the enemy. She would have known eventually, but something told me to tell her now.

She nodded, climbing on the bike, and Zander tore over the grass, heading for the main motorway. Gunfire from the oncoming attackers blasted at them.

“Come on!” Warwick spun for the rail tracks next to us, running down them, splitting the focus of the attackers. Sprinting right behind him, I felt the same prickle skate over my skin, warning me. Something I had felt before.

“War—”

Before I could get his name out, two shots rang out. Something hit my chest with a slam, tearing the air from my lungs, dropping my legs. Warwick stumbled with a roar, then fell next to me. I peered down, ready to see blood, to know this was the end. But sticking out of my chest was a large dart, pumping a drug into my veins.

Even worse than death was knowing your attacker wanted to keep you alive.

My world swayed and rolled, and dots encroached my peripheral as I slumped to the ground. My ears picked up the echo of footprints as I started to lose consciousness.

A face came over me. Sucking in fear, I stared up at the hazing details of him.

Kalaraja, the lord of death, smirked down at me.

“Ms. Kovacs.” The familiar nasally voice scratched at my ears. “Did you forget? I always get my man. And in this case, my woman too,” he said before shooting another dart into my stomach.

The sound of his cruel laugh followed me down into the pits of darkness.





Chapter 21





Bangs and cries echoed and boomed.

Pain throbbed through my bones, and the feeling of something choking me strangled my neck.

Body odor, urine, and the dank smell of earth clipped at wings of hope, understanding before my brain did where I was.

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