Dark Desire (10 page)

Chicago …

The heady scent of blood was floating on the air. This, accompanied by the panic and fear tainting the wind, drew Loki in. He was surrounded by warehouses, obviously in the more industrial part of town. Up ahead, shouts of surprise and pain echoed, and Loki knew without seeing it that it was going to be good.

Loki moved towards the sound, and as he got closer to the source, he could see the first of the bodies lying on the ground outside the door. Getting down onto his haunches, Loki got a better look at the corpse. The wound to the back of his neck looked as if it had been angled up, the weapon being driven into his spine to kill him instantly. There was blood everywhere, growing tacky around his body.

The light spilling out of the nearby door drew Loki’s attention. Standing up from his crouch, he entered the warehouse, hitting the wall of blood, seeing the carnage. There were more than a dozen bodies with at least a dozen different fatal wounds. Loki was impressed, and curious to know who had orchestrated such a beautiful scene.

But as he looked around a little more, he realized that he hadn’t even noticed the best part. In the middle of the room, Loki found a disembodied head positioned so it was looking up. Droplets of blood decorated the ground, a small perimeter of red circling the head. Loki’s eyes rose to the rafters, a gratified grin spreading across his lips. The body strung from the steel beams was still leaking, the victim’s life blood dribbling and seeping all over the bare concrete floor. His belly had been cut open, the intestines spilling out and dangling, suspended in the air like a macabre chandelier of human blood and flesh.

“Let’s get out of here,” a voice said, and Loki recognized it immediately. Stepping behind a tall wall of wooden crates, Loki watched Galen and Rhys descend the staircase at the back of the room and wander casually through the warehouse. They were covered in blood and gore, both of them wearing satisfied grins. They faded from the scene as the wail of sirens started in the distance.

The human authorities must have been on the way. Not wanting to be seen, Loki left the warehouse and staked out a spot in the shadows to watch. Within moments, the flash of red and blue lights reflected off the windows and steel doors of the surrounding buildings.

The first car pulled up, the word POLICE stamped across the front door. Another three cars followed, lights blazing, and the men from the first car got out. They both unclipped the snaps across their weapon’s holsters and kept their hands on the grips as they walked towards the front door of the warehouse.

Their eyes were on the first body as they passed it, but they pressed on. The man in front drew his weapon and led the way inside, his partner closely following behind him. Loki’s eyes moved to the other officers, now filing in behind the first two cops. He could see the wariness in their eyes as they passed him.

Staying back and out of sight, Loki drew closer to the door, watching the humans survey the scene in front of them. One of the younger ones suddenly doubled over, the contents of his stomach spilling out onto the floor a few feet away from one of the corpses.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Moloney,” someone said. “You’re fouling up the crime scene. Take it outside.”

The cop—Moloney—jolted upright like a puppet attached to invisible strings and turned around, wiping a shaking hand across his mouth. He didn’t even see Loki standing there as he staggered outside.

“What a goddamn mess,” another cop said, crouching down to inspect one of the bodies that had had its throat slashed.

“I haven’t seen anything like this before,” said another, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth and nose, trying to smother the smell of rust and spilled bowels.

“Who do you think is responsible for this shit?”

“There’s only one man who could order a hit this violent.” The man who spoke had a hard, square jaw, his mouth set into a grim line. Loki recognized this look. It was the look of a man who had seen too much.

“You’ve got a real hard-on for Craine, don’t you, Bray?” another cop said, this one a lot rounder and softer than Bray.

Bray ignored the comment. A drop of blood fell on his shirtsleeve, and he looked up at the ceiling. Taking a step back, he uttered, “Holy mother of God.”

The epithet drew the attention of the other cops, their gazes also gravitating to the rafters. Two more men gagged and fell to their knees.

“Do you know of any other man who would order that?” Bray demanded, gesturing to the body hanging from the roof. “This has to be Craine’s doing.”

The other man’s lips thinned into a hard line. “Okay, let’s say for argument’s sake it is, what’s the motivation?”

Bray was already walking toward the stairs. “All right, so we know Craine is the biggest importer and distributor of coke in Chicago, right?”

“No, we
think
he is,” the other man said. “We haven’t been able to pin a goddamn thing on him. It’s like he’s fucking coated in Teflon—nothing sticks.”

At the top of the metal staircase, Bray paused and turned around, his gun in hand. “I’d bet a year’s wage there’s something inside this room that will tell us everything we need to know.”

He twisted the handle and stepped into the room, gun raised. Less than a minute later, he was on the small landing once more.

“Well?”

“Nothing,” Bray replied bitterly, holstering his weapon and descending the stairs. His boots thumped against the metal. “Tell me the medical examiner is here already. I need to get out of here as soon as fucking possible.”

After a fitful sleep that saw most of the day disappear, Taer was on the floor in the living room, the news showing on the muted TV as she did some stretches to loosen up her muscles, tight and cramping from the previous day’s training.

Bending one leg and placing her foot near her groin, Taer leaned her chest towards the ground and stretched out her arm until her hands were wrapped around her foot. She felt the pull all the way through her hamstring, but she leaned even further forward, making her muscles scream. She welcomed this ache, trying to take her mind off the accidental dream walk she’d found herself in—the events still running like a movie reel in her head.

“Like what you see, Little Girl?”

Aubrey’s words echoed through her head, taunting her. All right, so maybe she was attracted to the bastard, but nothing was ever going to happen between them. All Taer needed him for was to help find Darrion. After that, he would be nothing more than a goddamn memory.

“But no matter how cool you play this, I know you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you.”

Taer huffed and increased the stretch, hoping the pain would take her mind off that smug bastard.

But no matter what she did, or which part of her body she pushed to the very limits, she couldn’t get her mind to focus.

“I knew you were there, watching me with that woman.”

She closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. Behind her eyelids, the image of Aubrey standing with the towel pooled around his feet, his magnificent body on show, all for her, was like torture.

“Taer?” Korvain asked, touching her on the shoulder, wrenching her from her thoughts. She blinked rapidly at him standing in front of her.

“Yeah?”

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, concern in his voice.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Taer said, “I slept like shit. How do you think I’m feeling?”

Korvain grunted. “You slept most of the day.”

Releasing her stretch, Taer gave her other hamstring the same treatment. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” he replied, taking a seat on the couch behind her and pulling out his karambit to clean.

“Will we be doing any training tonight?” she asked.

The Mare shook his head. “Not tonight. Dream walking takes a toll on your energy levels—even more than physical training does. Tomorrow night, maybe.”

“We could do some weapon training instead?”

His eyes shifted from the blade. “No, Taer. We’ve already discussed this,” he replied darkly, “and I’m not willing to discuss it further. My decision is final.”

Turning away from him, Taer swallowed down her anger and disappointment. If he wasn’t willing to teach her, she would just have to find someone else to do it.

“I have to go downstairs and help Bryn open up,” he said. “What are you doing tonight?”

Taer shrugged, focusing on the TV. “Not sure yet. Might just watch some TV or something. Maybe there’ll be a good movie on later.”

The dull rasp of a blade being put back in a holster whispered behind her. “I’ll check in on you later, Taer.”

She waved him away and pretended to be transfixed on the TV instead. When the apartment door shut behind him, Taer stood up and got showered and dressed.

She had somewhere she had to be.

Pushing into the War Hammer, Taer was too pissed off to acknowledge the stares and marched to the same booth she’d seen Aubrey at before. The bastard was sitting there, looking relaxed, with a woman—a different woman from before—straddling him, happily rocking backwards and forwards in his lap. He glanced up at her arrival, a cocky grin spreading on his lips. Taer wanted to wipe the damn thing off with the blunt end of a bar stool.

“Caught you at a bad time?” she asked sweetly. The woman turned around with a gasp, staring at Taer as if she had just interrupted a very private moment. Fucking newsflash: they were in a bar.

“Give us a minute, Ava,” Aubrey told the woman in a steady drawl, patting her on the ass she as extricated herself from his lap. Ava left them in a hurry, Taer’s eyes following her as she did. When she was out of sight, Taer turned her attention back to Aubrey, who was giving her a narcissistic smile.

Dick.

“Girlfriend?” she asked caustically, hating that anger she heard in her voice. Why should she care who Aubrey fucked?

“Just a girl,” he replied, readjusting himself openly. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Two visits in less than twelve hours.” He ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Aren’t I the lucky one?”

The reminder made Taer grind her teeth together. “That was a mistake,” she replied, “and not the reason I came here.”

Aubrey’s pale brows rose. “A mistake? I wouldn’t have called it that, but do tell me what the other reason is for you coming to see me.”

“I need to know whether you’ve found out anything about that Mare yet.”

“The guild master?” he clarified. Taer gave him a tight nod. The light elf leaned back in the booth, his fingers interlacing on top of the table. “Not yet.”

Taer was seething. “Is that because you’ve been too busy … entertaining the opposite sex?” she asked.

A lazy smile hitched up one side of his delectable mouth. “Jealous, Little Girl?”

Taer frowned. “Of her?” she asked, angrily indicating the direction the female had disappeared in. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“If you’re not jealous, why are you so angry right now?”

“I’m not angry, Aubrey. I’m fucking pissed off. You’d know if I was angry with you.” Taer realized what she’d just said was nonsense and frowned. “And that’s not the point. You said you could help me find this male, but so far I’ve not seen you do much else other than womanize and philander. If you can’t help me, just say so, and I’ll go find someone else who can.”

“You didn’t mean a single thing you’ve just said,” he retorted, leaning forward, ensnaring her with his searing gaze. “If any of it were true, you wouldn’t still be standing here. So, tell me the real reason you came down here.”

Taer didn’t like how intuitive he was, but he was right. She hadn’t come down here simply to chew him out for not finding Darrion yet. She had come here to ask another favor, but was afraid of what he would ask for in return. He hadn’t asked for anything the first time around, but now she would be asking a lot more of him.

“I need another favor,” she begrudgingly replied, the words like ash on her tongue.

“I’m all ears.”

Cursing under her breath, Taer forced herself to look him in the eye. “I need weapons training.”

Both of his brows rose this time around. “Why would a sweet young girl like you need weapons training? And why would you think
I
would know anything about weapons?”

Planting her palms on the table, Taer leaned down, making sure Aubrey could see just how serious she was. “To torture and kill the bastard that killed my brother,” she replied darkly. “And you haven’t lived as long as you have without knowing how to fight,” she added.

The light elf’s expression sobered, his gaze intensifying. “So that explains the pain in your eyes,” he commented softly. There was pity in his tone, and Taer hated to hear it. Straightening, she tried to put as much distance between them as she could. His expression hadn’t changed, forcing her to look away.

“Will you help me or not?” she asked, knowing there really was nowhere else for her to turn.

“Of course,” he replied unhesitatingly, and her eyes darted back to his face.

“Just like that?”

He shrugged. “Just like that.”

There had to be more to it than that. “What’s it going to cost me?”

“Your name.”

“That’s all you want? I tell you my name and you help train me?” she shot back incredulously.

He smiled, but it lacked the cockiness she was used to. “Is that so hard to believe?”

She wanted to tell him yes, it was, but she wouldn’t push the issue. He had agreed to train her, and it had cost her a hell of a lot less than she’d expected.

“When can we start?”

“When will you tell me your name?” he returned, one brow cocked.

Taer looked away, indecision about his motives plaguing her. She’d already come this far, though. What was another step into Aubrey
’
s tangled web of debt? Facing him once more, she said, “It’s Taer.”

“Winter Fox,” he said, the true meaning of her name on his lips sending shivers down her spine. Fuck, she had to get better control over her mind and body while she was around him. Pissed off with herself for letting him affect her so much, Taer turned to leave, but paused when Aubrey spoke again, his silky voice drawing her back like it was a drug and she was the addict.

“Tell me something; do you like to read classic books?” he asked casually.

Taer’s shoulders tensed. “Not really had much time to read,” she replied warily.

“You should find the time. I could lend you a copy of my favorite book, if you’d like?”

“And what’s that?” she asked.

His expression was mocking. “Jane Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice
. You
have
heard of it, yes?”

Taer cleared her throat, refusing to acknowledge that she had. Instead, she said with a shrug, “Can’t say that I have.”

Aubrey stood up and moved towards her, his body lithe and graceful. “I’ll bring you my copy sometime.” His voice was inviting.

Reaching up, his fingers grazed Taer’s cheek. The pounding of her heart intensified, and she prayed he couldn’t hear it.

“Come back here before closing. We’ll start training then.”

It was close to three in the morning when Taer returned to the War Hammer. She had tried to talk herself out of going more than a dozen times, but she always came back to the fact that she needed Aubrey, even if she didn’t want to admit it in so many words.

The street was quiet as she tapped on the door. She was dressed in a hoodie and sweats, the bitter wind blowing right through her. Cradling her upper body tightly, she tried to fight off the chill as she waited for the door to open. There was a shuffling of feet on the other side, then the door was pulled open by Alistyre. The dwarf gave her a reproachful look.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gruffly.

“She’s here to see me, Al,” Aubrey said from deeper inside. The dwarf looked over his shoulder, grunted and stepped back from the door. Taer pulled the top of her hood down and walked inside. Aubrey appeared from the back of the bar dressed in a black singlet and black trackpants, his feet bare.

Against her better judgement, and in direct contradiction to her own pep talk to not become ensnared by the light elf, Taer couldn’t help but peruse his body when she saw him. Forcing her eyes away, she found him watching her, amused.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked.

She shrugged easily, dismissing his question. “Where will we be training?” She looked around the empty bar, noticing the relics from their old worlds hanging from the walls for the first time. Among the dwarves’ axes were elven shields and bows as well as battle horns and helmets.

“Upstairs.”

His answer brought Taer’s eyes back to him. “You live here?”

He shook his head. “I never said that.” Before Taer could ask any more questions, he turned around and walked back the way he’d come. “Are you coming, Winter Fox?” he called, mockingly.

Cursing quietly under her breath, Taer stomped after him, finding the light elf waiting at the bottom of a set of stairs.

“After you,” he said. Pushing her shoulders back and tilting her chin up, Taer marched right past him and up the stairs. She felt more than heard him follow, the heat of his body pressing up against her. At the top of the stairs she reached a door and pushed it open.

The space was huge, at least as big as the bar below. Each corner held different equipment: daggers and hand weapons, sparring mats, grappling dummies and targets. On the floor, blue mats had been spread out, covering the entire surface.

“Where would you like to start?” Aubrey asked, his voice a seductive whisper from right behind her. His hand brushed against the back of her neck. Startled, Taer spun around and reflexively swung her arm out. Aubrey caught her by the wrist before the strike could land, his fingers cinching shut.

Taer struggled to free her arm from his grasp, but Aubrey just flexed his arm, dragging her closer to his body. On instinct, Taer went still, her face mere inches from his. She was staring into his pale eyes, those infinite grey windows to his soul.

“Lesson number one: be prepared for anything.” His breath was a warm breeze across her cheeks, his cinnamon scent wafting over her. “And lesson number two: strike only when you know you will inflict damage.”

Releasing his fingers, Aubrey gently pushed her away and dropped his arms. “How much training have you had?”

“Not enough.” Taer hoped he couldn’t hear the tremble in her voice.

“It shows.” Walking in a tight circle around her, he seemed to watch her and ignore her at the same time. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

He paused and turned to her. “That’s a lot. Narrow it down for me.”

Taer thought about it for a moment. “I need to know how to defend myself against a bladed weapon.”

“What kind of bladed weapon?”

“Throwing knife,” she replied automatically, remembering Darrion’s proclivity for daggers.

“Okay. It’s a start.” Aubrey walked over to what looked like a metal tool chest. Pulling open the top drawer, the light elf withdrew a double-edged knife and turned to face Taer.

He weighed the weapon in his hand carefully, walking back towards her.

“A throwing knife,” he said, presenting the weapon. “Deadly if you know how to wield one successfully.”

She stared at the metal weapon. It was probably no more than seven and a half inches long with a silver and black finish on the blade. The brushed steel reflected light while the black oxidized steel seemed to absorb it.

“But beatable?” she asked. She needed it to be beatable. Taer had worked with long and short swords with Adrian, but he hadn’t wanted to show her any more weapons.