Dark Devotion: Dark Series 3 (15 page)

Drawing on her inner strength, Tove pierced his belly with the knife, feeling his body yield to the sharp blade. Floki started to scream, but before the sound could build, she threw her hand over his mouth, stifling it. He fell onto his side, his hands clutching at the wound. Blood streamed from between his fingers, dripping onto the floor. Getting to her feet, she looked down at him.

“You will never touch me again.” Her words were drawn out by her rage. She wanted him to know that she wasn’t going to let him hurt her, nor any other woman again.

He looked up at her, hatred reflected both in his eyes and in the colors forming around his head and shoulders. “You have started a war you have no hope of winning.”

That may be. Her father didn’t have half the number of able-bodied warriors that his father did. But he did have her. She would die for her father and to die in battle was the most honorable way. Crouching beside Floki, Tove moved his hands out of the way. He was too weak to fight her, moaning when more blood spewed from his stomach.

“I will make you pay for this,” he spat weakly. Despite his fatal injury, despite the clear disadvantage, he was still defiant until the end. She ignored his idle threats though. She’d been willing to marry to him – for her father, for her sense of duty, for the survival and prosperity of her father’s rule. But she was not willing to allow Floki to rape her servant and then rape her. She could see now what kind of a man he was, and she would not condemn herself to that life, no matter the consequences.  

Taking her dagger, she slid it into the wound and twisted. Floki ground his teeth together, his nostrils flaring as pain swept through him. Pulling the knife out, she held it against his throat.

“You are a pig, and you will die like a pig,” she told him, running the blade across his throat. Blood flowed like a river down his chest, and each pump of his heart only made the blood gush faster. Tove watched the life leak from his eyes, feeling nothing but satisfaction.

When his chest had stopped pumping up and down, she got to her feet. She stumbled out into the hall with the dagger still in her hand. Blood covered her dress, chest, arms and legs. Nobody seemed to notice her arrival though. They were still drinking and eating, enjoying the music. Tove looked around, searching for her father.

She started walking through the throng of revelers. People stopped what they were doing when they saw her, a hush falling over the room with every step she took. When she was finally in front of her father, it took him a moment to notice her.

“Tove?” He stood up from his chair, his eyes taking in the blood, the dagger, the hard glint of satisfaction and determination in her eye. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head. “Your eye …”

She touched her left eye, feeling the swelling. She shrugged slightly.

“What of Floki?” Vadik Dalgaard, Floki’s father, asked.

Tove looked him in the eye. She would not back down from this. “He is dead.”

Vadik stood up, shoving the table away as he did. Food and mead fell to the floor. The dogs ran in and started eating what had fallen before being chased away by servants.

“Who killed him?” It was a demand from a chieftain, from a man who rarely didn’t get what he wanted.

Raising her chin a fraction, she said, “I did.” Her voice rang around the room.

The noise in the room returned, except it wasn’t joyful anymore. Anger polluted the air, shouts of outrage coming from the Dalgaard camp. Vadik stalked toward Tove, taking her by the throat and lifting her off the ground. The dagger dropped from her hand. Her fingers scrambled to loosen his grip.

“You killed my son,” Vadik snarled, his aura exploding with black striations. He started walking her backwards, toward the central hearth. She could feel the heat intensify with every step. With the air slowly being squeezed from her body, her vision started to darken. She gasped, desperately trying to suck in another breath. She could feel her eyes staring to bulge, the pressure of her blood forcing them out.

Vadik grunted right before blood started to drip from the corner of his mouth. Tove looked down to see the tip of a spear sticking out from under his ribs. Over his shoulder, she saw her father. His mouth was a twisted grimace, his eyes fierce. Vadik’s fingers finally loosened from around her throat. Her feet hit the ground and she sucked in a deep breath, feeling her lungs burn. Vadik dropped to his knees, his momentum carrying him forward. Tove stepped out of the way, seeing her father’s enemy fall headfirst into the open flames.

The smell of burning flesh was instant and choking.

She looked back at her father and nodded. All of that happened within a split second, because the next thing she knew, swords were being drawn and spears were made ready. Vadik had brought a third of his warriors with him to the wedding; Halvdan only had a dozen. The men crowded around Tove and her father, protecting their chieftain and his only living child.

“No,” Halvdan boomed, pushing through the bodies of his fighters. “I will fight with you, not cowering in the corner.” He rounded on Tove. “You,” he said, pointing at her, “find safety with the other women.”

“Father—”

“No,” he roared. The fighting had already started, their men already falling. Her father turned around and thrust his spear into the throat of one of Vadik’s men. “I won’t lose you too,” he shouted over his shoulder. “Go!”

A servant began tugging at Tove’s arm, urging her backwards. “Come, mistress.” Harried and scared, the girl went to lead her away, but Tove wouldn’t go. She belonged here with her father. She had caused this. She had been training to fight since she was six years old. Finding a discarded sword, Tove picked it up and entered the melee. She blocked one strike, sweeping up the dagger she had dropped and burying it into the neck of another enemy.

“Why won’t you listen to your father just this one time?” a familiar voice yelled.

Tove turned her head. “Soren? What are you doing here?”

He strode toward her, his eyes roaming over her face and body, taking in all the blood covering her.

“It’s not mine,” she whispered as he dropped his ax and cupped her face between his hands. “It’s not mine.”

“You need to get out of here.”

“I—” Over his shoulder, Tove saw one of Vadik’s men coming toward them. “Soren!”

In one fluid movement, he picked up his ax and swung it in a dangerous arc. The head landed in the center of a man’s chest, cleaving through it. Yanking the weapon free, Soren took her hand and dragged her away from the fighting. In the relative safety of the shadows, he said, “We’re outnumbered.”

“I know.”

“Then leave with me. Now. We can just run away and—”

Tears threatened to fill her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I can’t.”

He growled. “Gods, Tove, why can’t you forget your damn honor for once? You won’t survive this.” He gestured angrily to the fighting. “Come away with me and we can have the life we’ve dreamed about.”

Could she just leave? Could she never see her father again? Tove searched him out. He was fighting two men at once, successfully cutting down one with his sword before impaling the other with his spear. That was when she noticed his movements were a lot slower than normal. He had a large wound on his thigh and another on his head. He was injured, and her whole world seemed to shift. She had never seen him as anything other than a strong, vibrant man, and now…

Now she saw the reality of her decision.

Turning back to Soren, she kissed him on the mouth and said, “I’ll love you until my heart stops beating.”

She ran toward her father, toward the small group of fighters still trying to protect him. Gods, there were only five men left. Even as she joined them, another two were killed. She threw herself at their attackers, deflecting their strikes and making her own blows count. She immediately moved on to another and another.

Tove felt untouchable, as if Tyr himself was guiding her hand. She took down another six men when a loud cry stopped her. Turning, she found her father on the ground holding onto his side. The man he’d been fighting was standing over him, sword in hand, ready to make the killing blow. She ran toward the pair, her eyes and mind completely focused on reaching her father.

But something made her feet stop moving, and it wasn’t until she was on her knees did she realize that she’d been struck down. Impaled through the back by a spear, her attacker placed his foot on her shoulder and pulled the weapon free. Blood foamed from her mouth as she watched the man move to stand in front of her. Reaching out, he plucked the dagger from her hand and held it to her throat. Vaguely, she thought she heard Soren scream her name.

“This is for my brother and father,” her attacker said.

And then, all Tove knew was darkness.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Taer cringed and turned around, placing her back against the door of the club. Korvain was standing farther up the hall. His intense gaze traveled down her body, scrutinizing her in her tight dress and six-inch heels.

“Any time now,” he added with a growl.

She let out a breath and tilted her chin up. “Just out.”

He strode forward, took her by the arm and dragged her toward Bryn’s office, making her stumble in the ridiculous heels. The door slammed shut behind them, the sharp sound making her jump. She pulled free of his grip.

“What’s your problem?” She wanted to rub the ache away from her arms, but didn’t want to let him know just how much it had hurt.

“Did you go out to see
him
?” Korvain demanded, eying her outfit in disgust before prowling around the room.

“What if I did?” she spat, raising her voice.

He stopped with his back to her. His shoulders rose and fell, and the shadows around the room moved with them.

“I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know what you two were doing together earlier.” Taer shifted uncomfortably, a new feeling of regret creeping in. “But I am going to tell you this,” Korvain said, pinning her in place with his menacing stare. “He sells drugs and whores in the human world. He kills indiscriminately and he
will
hurt you.”

His words should have shocked her, and in a small way they did. That version of Aubrey was a foreign concept. She knew the Aubrey who helped her train to kill her tormenter, who made her whole body light up just by being in the same room as her. He was the male who had made her want more, who had made her crave.

But now he was just the man who’d taken what he’d wanted and left her.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Taer.

“Are you hearing me?” Korvain demanded.

It didn’t matter; she was done with Aubrey. “I hear you,” she replied.

He nodded. “Good.” He turned to leave the office, pausing at the door. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”

Taer agreed that it was late, but she wasn’t in the mood to sleep. She was in the mood to have a drink. “I have something I have to do first.”

“Just don’t leave the bar.”

“Why not?”

Korvain’s jaw bulged for a moment. “Just trust me on this one, Tay. Stay in the Eye.”

“But—”

“I’ll explain later,” he said dismissively. “I have to get back to work.”

When he left the room, he left the door ajar. Alone with her thoughts, Taer’s mind went back to Aubrey, even though that was the last place she wanted it to go. She needed a way to forget about how she’d made an effort to look good for him. She needed to forget how he’d stood her up, and as the music of the club trickled through the open door, she realized just how to do it.

Heading into the Eye, she walked straight past Mason standing guard at the bottom of the stairs, and made her way up to Raven. Brushing aside the curtains, she scanned the room, her eyes settling on Dex as he poured a drink with a flourish. He winked at the girl he was serving and took her cash.

She walked over to the bar and sat down. Dex sidled up on the other side.

“Taer, you are looking good, sweetheart,” he said with a suggestive grin.

“Thanks,” she said curtly. “Can I get a drink?”

His lifted his eyebrows. “Sure. What do you want?”

“Anything, as long as it’s strong.”

Dex set about making her a drink, mixing in triple shots of vodka and a coffee-flavored liqueur. He topped the whole thing off with soda and handed her the tall glass. She eyed it dubiously. “What is it?”

“A dirty black Russian. A friend of mine got me hooked on these a while back.”

Taer took an experimental sip, then threw the rest of it back and put the empty glass onto the bar.

“Another?” Dex asked, surprised. Taer nodded and he started mixing.

By the fourth drink, she was starting to feel a buzz. Dex had bounced between her and the customers for well over an hour. It was starting to slow down now though, so he was spending more time talking to her.

“What’s up, Taer?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

He gestured to the empty glass in front of her and gave her a questioning look.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, looking down at the shiny black bar top.

“Does it have something to do with that guy who came in before, your boyfriend?”

“No.”

Dex gave her a sad smile. “Look, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to get blind fucking drunk.”

He grabbed a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses and placed them down in front of her. He filled them and held one up. “To getting blind fucking drunk then.”

Taer couldn’t help but smile at him. She picked up the other glass and knocked it against his. The liquor burned on the way down, and she scrunched up her face, slamming the shot glass back down on the bar.

Dex sucked some liquor off his thumb. “You want to go out after I finish up here?”

Did she? Not really, no, but the alternative was going to bed, and she knew she’d go and see Aubrey in a moment of weakness. “Yes.”

He grinned, showing all his teeth. “Great. Let me finish cleaning up and we can leave. I’m meeting some friends at another club.”

Taer blinked at him and looked around. Raven was completely empty. Her brain was so foggy thanks to the alcohol that she hadn’t noticed the place had closed for the night. That was good though. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to feel.

Numbness was what she was chasing.

“You ready to go?” Dex asked a few minutes later. She nodded and slid from the stool. “Do you need a coat or anything?”

“I’m fine,” she said, stumbling a little.

“Whoa, take it easy there, sweetheart,” Dex said, taking her by the elbow. He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and guided her down the stairs. She’d drunk too much. She knew that, but she didn’t care. She was blissfully unaware of everything and that was just what she wanted right now.

By some miracle, both Korvain and Mason were nowhere in sight so leaving the club was easy. They just walked straight out the front door. Outside, the wind whipped around them and Taer wished she’d bothered to go and get a coat. She peered up at the sky, thinking that it could snow at any time.

“Where are we going anyway?”

Dex pulled her closer and threw his arms over her shoulders. “That will be a surprise.”

When they arrived at Whiskey Saigon, Taer groaned. She had pretty much sobered up on the walk over. Dex knocked on the door of the club, blowing into his hands to warm them up while they waited.

He knocked on the door again, putting his hands up on either side of his face to peer through the glass.

“Maybe you got the wrong night?” Taer asked.

“No, they’re in there. The lights are on.” Banging on the door, he yelled, “Yo, Cash, let us in, man.”

She watched a man approach from the other side of the door, his eyes fixing on her. He was a lot taller than Dex with a long face, high cheekbones and a mop of blond hair. If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed he was a light elf.

“I didn’t know you were bringing someone,” Cash said as he opened the door. His dark eyes studied her carefully, and Taer returned the favor. Up close, she could see her assumption had been right. He gave her a nod, then looked at Dex.

“She’s cool. Who else is here?” Dex took Taer’s hand and pushed past Cash. The color palate inside was moody, the walls covered in rich black and red wallpaper. All the seats at the banquet tables and at the bar were black leather with a red trim. The bar itself was smooth and dark with large red pendant lights hanging overhead. Up ahead, sitting at the far end of the room, was a group of three people – two guys and one girl.

“Tay, this is Steve, Paul and Laura. Guys, this is Taer,” he said, making a sweeping gesture toward the group. Laura was the only one who didn’t smile at her.

“Hey,” she said. Dex gestured to one of the free chairs. It was facing the wall, and all of her instinct told her not to take it, but then she remembered that Darrion was dead, and she no longer had to worry about a threat coming at her when she least expected it. She sat down, still turning the chair so it was side on to the door.

Old habits.

Conversation started up again when Cash joined them at the table. He sat beside Taer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body.

“What was your name again? Taer?” he asked in a low voice, keeping the conversation between them.

“Yeah.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “My real name is Tarathiel, but I haven’t used that name in over a thousand years.”

“Still Taer,” she replied, earning herself a small smile.

“What are you two talking about?” Dex interrupted, sliding his arm around her waist. She stiffened at his touch, but forced herself to relax.

“How much of a dick you are,” Cash shot back. He got up and went to the bar, reaching over the top and retrieving a bottle of champagne and two glasses. The light elf held out the bottle to Taer. She shook her head.

“Can I get you something else then?”

“A soda will be fine.”

With a nod, Cash stood up again and jumped over the top of the bar.

He returned with her drink. Taer sipped at her soda, watching them all. Cash rarely joined in on the conversations, but he watched Taer though. She felt his eyes burning into her. It seemed as if he wanted to say something to her, but he was biding his time.

After two hours of absorbing the noise of the conversation, she stood up, drawing Dex’s attention.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” she replied.

He downed the last of his drink. “I’ll walk you.”

“No. It’s fine.”

“It’s late. You can’t walk home alone.”

She smiled at him, the way she would to a small naive child. “I think I can look after myself.”

He frowned, obviously thinking he was being chivalrous.

Cash burst out laughing. “What she’s saying is that she’s not interested in anything you want to give her.”

Dex scowled, his alcohol-fogged brain working hard to keep up with the conversation. “What? No, I was just offering to—”

“Dex? I’m good.” Taer turned to Cash. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll walk you out,” he replied.

This again?
“I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

Cash stood up. “Yeah, well, I have to lock up after you.”

He followed her to the door, opening it up for her. Cold air hit them both in the face. Over his shoulder, Taer could see Dex watching them, his expression hard. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just been talking about you for a while now. To be honest, I didn’t even think you were real,” Cash said. “Are you two …?”

“No.”

“Dex wants there to be something more.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” she snapped back.

Cash put his hands up in front of him, grinning. “Put the claws away, kitten.”

Taer shook her head and stepped out into the cold night. As she turned away, Cash grabbed her arm. Without conscious thought, she palmed the dagger from her thigh holster and pressed it to the elf’s throat.

He laughed, completely at ease with having a weapon extremely close to a major artery. “I knew there was more to you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, pressing the tip in closer, dimpling his skin.

“I heard there was a female in Darrion’s latest quinary. I thought it was bullshit.”

“Darrion is dead.”

Shocked registered on Cash’s face. “When? How? Who?” He fired the questions off quickly like he knew the guy personally.

“Less than twenty-four hours ago.”

“Who killed him?”

She pulled her arm from his hand, but kept the knife in place. “You’re looking at her.”

If she thought he’d been surprised before, it had nothing on the look on his face now. “You?”

“Are we going to have a problem here? Because I have no issue with ending your life just like I ended his.” Taer was prepared for a fight. She was ready. She was more than ready. She had a fuck load of anger still and no outlet, but if Cash wanted to volunteer for the job, she would oblige him.

“We don’t have a problem.” Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugged it from his shoulders. Taer eased off when he turned to expose a tattoo spanning the width of his back.
Death before dishonor
– Darrion’s words, Darrion’s contract with his Mares.

Slowly, Taer lowered her arm. She should have known she’d run into one of Darrion’s assassins sooner or later. Living with her brother and Korvain, she had been shielded from a lot of the politics of the guild, including the other assassins that Darrion had bound by blood contract.

He turned back around, his expression thoughtful. “I figured something had happened. I couldn’t feel his pull anymore.”

She shrugged.

“How did you manage to kill him?”

Taer re-sheathed her dagger. “I found his weakness.”

“A weakness indicates that the bastard had a heart to start with.”

“He did have a heart. It was black and I made sure it stopped beating.”

Cash’s lips flexed into a smile. “I guess I owe you one then.”