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As the two stumbled to the dirt, viciously punching, kicking, and swiping at each other, Bjorn’s legs gave out, the pain increasing exponentially. He hit his knees, then toppled over. So dizzy. Blood rushed from his limbs, pooling around his vital organs to keep them warm.
Though he fought to remain aware and active, black dots encroached on his vision. His blood turned to acid, and he knew. The blade had been poisoned.
Whatever William had planned, it did not bode well for anyone, not even Fox. Did he hope to use her, perhaps, for her portal-opening skills?
No, no, no. My prisoner. Mine! No one else had the right to use or harm her. Must save her. Must…
Darkness enveloped Bjorn’s mind, dragging him kicking and screaming into a deep, deep sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
Fox fought William’s hold, desperate to return to Bjorn, who had passed out on the ground, surrounded by his own intestines. A development she should applaud, considering he planned to exterminate her.
The knowledge still tore her up inside. At least Distrust had gone quiet, petrified of the Ever Randy for some reason. A first.
Would Bjorn pull through? He had to pull through. She loved him and—
Whoa. She sucked in a breath. She loved him?
A tiny glimmer of light chased away the shadows in her mind, the truth suddenly clear. She did. She loved him. Or rather, she used to love him. After everything he’d done today, she planned to switch off her emotions every time she thought of him. Or saw him. Or spoke to him. That way, she would never hurt over him again. But…
The hurt proved too strong, and wouldn’t go away. It gnawed at her insides. Lost my lover and best friend today. And he was her best friend, wasn’t he? Or he had been. She’d enjoyed conversing with him, sleeping with him, and making him smile. Now, tears scalded her eyes.
Okay, so, maybe she’d switch off her emotions tomorrow and go back to her cold, barren existence then. Today, she would wallow in her misery, ensuring she never forgot the consequences of falling in love.
William maintained a tight hold and flashed her to—she gasped, her jaw going slack. What is this place? Eerily dark, illuminated by thousands of mini-fire pits. Inside each set of flames—a human soul. The scent of burnt meat saturated the air, stinging her nostrils. She gagged.
Shackled by chains and staked to the ground in a supine position, those souls writhed in pain. Scream after scream assaulted her ears, broken up by the occasional moan. Everyone within her vicinity begged for help.
“What is this place?” she croaked.
He unveiled the evilest grin she’d ever beheld, every inch a prince of darkness. “I call this area a spice rack. During their human lives, these people chose to serve me. Upon their deaths, they became my property. As spirits, they never die and never ash. They do feel the heat and agony of the flames. Then, whenever I crave soul food”—he snickered at his own joke—“I pick a tasty one or two.”
Soul food. A disgusting reference on so many levels. “You snack on people?” A lump grew in her throat, and she gulped.
“Among other things,” he sang.
Fox had spent a little time with William when she and Galen visited the Lords of the Underworld. William of the Dark had irritated and amused her, but he’d never disgusted her like this. Something had changed. He wasn’t the same man as before.
“This is where you think you’re going to keep me?” She tried to wrench free, but he dug his claws deeper into her wrist. Either that, or his claws had lengthened. She winced as the tips embedded in bone.
When Fox kneed his groin, he willingly released her.
“You little bitch,” he snarled, backhanding her across the cheek.
Her head whipped to the side, pain exploding through her brain. Blood coated her tongue, and weakness poured through her. He wore a ring on every finger and one—or all—must have had some sort of toxin. Losing too much blood too fast. Too weak.
“I know I’m going to keep you here until I decide to make use of your Gatekeeper abilities. You will help me win my war with the Kings of the Underworld and their Sent One allies, or I will magnify your suffering each and every day.”
Confirmation: this was not William. William aided the Kings. Suspicions danced through Fox’s mind, followed by rumors she’d heard about William’s brother, Lucifer, some type of sorcerer, who used magic to cast illusions and shapeshift into anyone, at any time…
Finally, comprehension dawned. So did horror. “You are Lucifer,” she rasped. “The Destroyer, King of Deception, Prince of Darkness, the Dark One, Satan, and the Devil.
“Ding, ding, ding.” Right before her eyes, his appearance changed. Dark hair lightened. Blue eyes darkened. Bronze skin became gold. As beautiful as an angel—a lie.
Nauseous, she stumbled back, putting distance between them. Or trying to. She tripped over a set of shackles and crashed to the ground. Lucifer followed her down, clearly intending to chain her there. That evil, evil smile…
The second he moved within range, she kicked him in the stomach. As weak as she was, she caused little damage. Worse, he latched on to her ankle with minimal effort and laughed.
He laughed harder as he spread her legs and kicked the apex of her thighs, sending painful vibrations through her womb. “You kneed me, and I kicked you. Tit for tat. Everything you do to me, I will do to you, only worse.”
“Thanks for permission, asshole.” Drawing on a reserve of strength, Fox erupted, bucking and kicking until she knocked him down.
They rolled across the ground, and ended up in a flaming prison. Searing pain! Excruciating agony! The flesh on her left side blistered and melted, and stars winked through her vision. He remained unaffected, punch, punch, punching her face. One of her eyes swelled shut. Her lip split, blood filling her mouth. More stars obscured her line of sight.
Come on! Finish him! He took his next swing. At the last second, she threw herself to the side. He hit air, his momentum propelling him forward. Fighting for every breath, each movement a lesson in torment, Fox crawled toward the empty prison and latched on to the chain. As she hoped, he followed, flipping her over, dropping to his knees, and pinning her legs. A total mistake on his part.
She used the chain like a whip—thanks for the idea, Thane and Xerxes. The links wound around Lucifer’s neck. Yank. She drove him to the ground face-first. Before he righted himself, she hooked the end of the shackle to the chain itself, securing the links to each other, ensuring he couldn’t slither free; he’d have to use a key. A key he probably had in his pocket.
Time wasn’t her friend. Go! Now, now, now. Did she have enough juice to open a portal?
As Fox lumbered to her feet and raced away, she pressed her fingertips together. Sparks ignited. Not as many as usual, but enough to open a portal, taking her somewhere else. Relief bombarded her. Where should she go? No, to whom should she go? Easy. Galen, the man who loved and trusted her. No doubt he was out of his mind with worry. She never wanted to see Bjorn again. He’d turned his back on her when she needed him most, choosing to believe the worst of her. But. There’s always a stupid but. First, she had to see Bjorn again. One last time. She had to warn him about Lucifer.
It was decided, then. She would issue the warning, then she would leave. Forever.
* * * *
Bjorn came to as familiar voices invaded his mind.
“—out of Water now,” Thane was saying. “The next time Alana summons him…”
“We knew this day would come,” Xerxes replied, worry roughing up his tone. “At each syphoning, Alana has drained more from him. Without the Water, he won’t survive the next visit. I’ve asked around, but no one is willing to share what little Water they have left.”
“We must find a way to break Alana’s bond to him, then, without harming him. I know we’ve tried and failed in the past, but we must have missed something, somewhere.”
“As long as he stays in Hell, she will not approach him. Nor can she force him to visit h
er lair.”
Footstep sounded. Someone patted his cheek. He blinked open his eyes to find Xerxes beside him. Thane perched at the edge of the bed.
Bjorn cast his gaze this way and that, but his surroundings proved unfamiliar. He wasn’t in a cabin in Hell or a cloud in the heavens but…a room the armies of Sent Ones had built for medical emergencies? Sterile environment, with medical equipment scattered throughout.
He lay upon a gurney, inhaling highly oxygenated air. Another patient slept on the other side of the room. Someone he recognized…who, who?
The answer hit him, and he stiffened. The Warrior Fox had tried to kill.
Fox… Memories assaulted him. Her betrayal…William’s attack… The pangs started up again, tearing through his chest.
“How long was I out?” he demanded, jolting upright. “Where is Fox?”
His friends ceased pacing and zoomed to his side.
