Demetrius (20 page)

She wrapped her hand in the sweatshirt’s oversized sleeve and wound up to nail it again.

Her fist struck with another satisfying hit. The glass pane broke outward, a voice behind her shouted, and she dived out, vaporizing to the first place she thought of.

She landed against her garage door with a thump. Letting herself in, the first thing she spotted was the Rolls Royce.

A momentary wave of remorse threatened to spill tears at the reminder of father and better days. Ruthlessly shoving the emotion down, she forced herself to think more practically. Calli ran inside for the keys. She’d follow that damn demon bond in style.

Entering her house, she headed to the office where her father kept the keys to his precious Rolls.

Stopping, she looked around.

There were no signs of her father’s spilled blood, and definitely not his body. Someone had dragged his remains to out to be dusted by the sun, and cleaned up before they left. Broken furniture had been removed, ashes vacuumed. Only the blackened, shredded floor in front of the fireplace indicated anything sinister had happened.

She reached for the keys, her fingers immune to stimuli. They could’ve been burning hot or blistering cold and she wouldn’t have noticed. The care someone had taken in cleaning up her home—the place where her worst fears had come to fruition—was touching. It wasn’t just Demetrius, but those who carried out his request. She owed them so much, the least she could do was kill Draken.

Chapter Twenty-two

“These dwellings are archaic!” Draken stormed across the cave floor, his boots not making much sound caked in mud. Demetrius suspected that pissed him off more. “If I wanted a cesspool to fuck in, I would’ve stayed in the underworld!”

If Draken hadn’t been talking about sex with Calli, Demetrius would’ve laughed about the irony of a demon being bothered by filth.

The bastard meant to take Calli in the mud, in front of him before killing him. Demetrius burned with rage. Either he or Draken would die before that happened, and Demetrius didn’t plan on dying anytime soon.

Rourke hadn’t moved for hours where he sat across the cave, near the entrance. The deep meditation shit he did was highly effective, but it left Demetrius to rot in his own mind, worrying about Calli, about his team. He’d worry about himself, but there was no room left.

“I’m sorry, master.” McFeely stood nervously by the back wall of the cave. “It was short notice and we needed a place where there were limited entrances.”

Duct tape was the only thing preventing Demetrius from verbally ripping McFeely to shreds. The male was a coward. He’d turned on Callista yet again, too weak to be his own male.

If he were to tell the truth, duct tape wasn’t the only thing stopping him from tearing anyone apart. He couldn’t feel his left arm and the sieve effect of his multitude of stab wounds drained him of his strength.

He would say the same for Rourke, but maybe that meditation shit slowed the blood loss, or reserved whatever was left. At least one of them wouldn’t be useless saving Callista. If he lived, Demetrius resolved he’d download a meditation app.

A subtle scent that wasn’t mud wafted across his nose. Looking around, he noted Rourke with a fine crease in his brow. The smell hadn’t been Demetrius’ imagination.

He couldn’t get a clear read on the scent, concealed by damp earth. The cave was deep in the woods surrounding Freemont where the hills were more rugged. The demon’s counterparts in the Circle had flashed them there since it’d been daylight. All Demetrius had been able to tell was that they were nowhere near town, and it wasn’t a naturally made cave. Likely it was a dwelling away from people to conduct their rituals, sacrifices, and all that other demonic bullshit Demetrius was going to put a stop to.

Watching from under hooded lids, he observed Draken yelling at McFeely, waited for him to notice the change in the air.

Draken halted mid-tirade and spun a slow circle to face the entrance of their dark, dreary hole in the mountain. “Callista, it’s my pleasure.”

Demetrius blinked, wishing he could rub his eyes, but his hands were shackled, strung away from his body. He saw nothing, but then all his senses were dulled.

And then…a dark form peeled itself away from the dirt wall of the entrance. The hood thrown back to reveal sunshine yellow hair.

Fucking no.

Flash away, Callista!
He couldn’t speak, his gargled attempt at words couldn’t get around the tape barrier.

“Draken. I’m here. Release them.” She stood strong, no tremors shook her body.

He’d be proud of her courage, if he wasn’t so pissed she’d actually showed up and without any of his team.

“Not how it works, my dear. I want what was promised to me first.” Draken beckoned her toward him.

She spared a glance around the dank cave. Demetrius’ memory filled in what he could no longer see. Their heightened sight barely helped with the sun set.

“I-I can’t see.”

Demetrius lunged, but his shackles were anchored into the ground. If he was at full strength, he could’ve ripped them out. His blood-letting wasn’t just for fun and games. It had served to keep him weakened.

McFeely flicked on a flashlight and aimed it down at the floor. A dull beam cast a dirty glow within the room.

“That’s better.” She still didn’t look at him, but her hands fiddled in the middle pocket of his sweatshirt.

Draken noticed, too. “
Tsk, tsk
, Callista. Remove your hands and whatever you have stashed in that pocket.”

Silver glinted on the small switchblade she extracted from the pocket and dropped it on the floor.

Humor mixed with irritation crossed Draken’s face. “Do you think I’m going to hurt you, Callista?”

“Yes.”

That earned a dark laugh from the demon. “Ordinarily, you’d be right. But if you successfully birth our first child, I’ll continue to keep myself restrained.”

“What do you plan to do with that child?”

Callista was stalling, and Demetrius didn’t blame her. His sluggish, clouded mind frantically searched for a way to get free, to save her.

“Matters not, as long as it remains alive to be my key to the realm. Perhaps we’ll have a few more. If you die, I want to be assured entry whenever I wish.”

Callista seemed to mull it over. “What does this realm have that the underworld doesn’t? You must be powerful down there, not have to hide like here among the humans.”

“Even demons will do a lot in the name of freedom.” Draken held his hand out to her. “Enough talk. Come.”

Her pink tongue licked her lips. A movement Draken was as enthralled with as Demetrius was. “How do I know you’ll free them after we…”

“Fuck, Callista. We’re going to fuck. I’ve smelled that dirty vampire all over you, so I will take you until you’re saturated in my scent. On. Your. Knees.”

“It’s kinda muddy, isn’t it?”

“Kneel!” Draken roared.

Callista fell to her knees. Was her bond to Draken rendering her helpless against his commands? Demetrius strained against his binds, there was no give. Rourke, that bastard, still had his eyes closed, meditating.

“Pull down your pants, or I’ll rip them off.” Draken walked past her to settle in behind her.

Callista followed orders, terrified yet determined. She unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, circling her hands around the back to push them down.

Only she didn’t. She yanked out one of his guns and spun around, pumping round after round into Draken’s chest.

The demon shouted, his face contorted in rage, and he dived on top of her, knocking the gun out of her hand.

The couple grappled, but Callista was no match for the demon’s superior strength. She was losing, getting pinned while Draken ripped at her clothes.

She didn’t give up, and neither did Demetrius. His arms were bound, but he stretched out as far as he could and kicked at the male.

His hits were weak, futile, but he continued. Callista struggled, trying to keep Draken from dragging her pants down. Her legs were spread, cradling the male. One pant leg had rode up revealing one of Demetrius’ eight inch blades strapped to her calf.

If he could get that... It’d take time, he was weak as shit, but it’d be enough to hack Draken’s head off.

Draken punched Callista, his fist driving into her cheek. She yelped, biting her tongue when her head rebounded off the ground.

Rage clouded Demetrius’ vision; he roared, jerking against his bindings. His shoulders protested, one dislocated, but for fuck’s sake, he was not remaining shackled while Draken abused his princess.

McFeely circled around the cave, away from the struggle, until he stood near Rourke. He had that motherfucking gun with the vampire knockout juice, and it was pointing at Demetrius.

Eyes still closed, Rourke snaked a hand out, snatched McFeely’s ankle, jerking it out from under him. He grabbed the gun as the male fell and shot him twice before he hit the ground.

Rourke bared his fangs, hissing at Draken, who’d detected the vampire had freed himself. The demon twisted off Callista to attack Rourke.

Demetrius tore his bindings from their anchor in the ground, muscles screaming as he weakly tore the tape from his mouth. Callista scrambled into him, seeking safety. He wanted to pull her into him, cradle her to his chest, but it was impossible given his injuries, and he needed to kill Draken.

His numb left arm had been dislocated and he could hardly raise his right one, the cuff felt like it weighed two-hundred pounds. But he managed to grab his knife off Callista.

Rourke had Draken pinned, stabbing him repeatedly with a small blade he recognized as his. Demetrius would ask how that happened later. Draken was ripping into Rourke’s face and neck with his claws. That meditation must’ve helped because the demon couldn’t budge the vampire. Rourke ruthlessly continued to pepper Draken’s body with holes.

Demetrius couldn’t stand. He’d lost too much blood, been contained for too long. He army-crawled to the pair, knife in hand. Draken sensed him coming, was going to lash out at him to score his face and keep him away from his neck, but Rourke caught the male’s arms.

Surging to his knees, Demetrius brought the knife down in an arc and sliced deep into the demon’s neck. Draken’s eyes widened in panic. He bucked and thrust, but Rourke held firm.

Demetrius plunged again, going even deeper. He could only use one hand and the way Draken was writhing, this would take forever.

The demon found a well of strength in his panic. He fought and freed an arm, gouging Demetrius’ face, almost costing him an eye.

Callista appeared next to him, metal glinting from her hand. A gunshot resonated throughout the cave.

A hole bloomed in the side of Draken’s head. His black eyes glared at Callista, his fangs bared, he lunged for her, but it was with half the effort as before.

“Sucks being on the receiving end, doesn’t it?” Demetrius taunted. He hacked with the knife, severing flesh, sawing through bone, until at last, the demon’s head rolled away from his body.

The ground rumbled, dirt rained down from the ceiling. After witnessing how shit went down upon a demonic host’s death, Demetrius didn’t want to see what happened when an actual demon was killed.

“Callista, flash out of here. Now!”

“Not without you!”

“You two are going to drive me to drink pussy margaritas.” Rourke was already on his feet, dragging Demetrius to the exit of the cave.

Callista rushed to help.

“Wait. We should burn him, make sure he’s dead.” Demetrius didn’t want a future of looking over his shoulder, worrying Callista was being stalked.

She pulled out the vial Rourke gave her and ran back to Draken, dumping the contents on his remains. Rourke kept dragging him out of the cave.

“Flash!” Demetrius wanted the demon dead, but not at the expense of a mountain falling on top of Callista.

Ignoring him, she took out the lighter and bent down to set Draken’s body aflame.

Large chunks of earth fell. A huge slab hit Callista and the flame went out.

“Rourke, stop!” But Rourke continued dragging him out of the cave. “Flash, Callista! Do it!”

She flicked the lighter again. The flame set her serene face aglow. She shone with determination, wouldn’t flash until she got that damn lighter down by the fluid.

“Rourke, I command you to stop!”

The ground heaved, Rourke stumbled. Demetrius’ thrashing wasn’t helping.

A huge blaze lit up the cave.

No, no, no
. Vampires were too flammable. If she’d been standing anywhere nearby, she’d have gone up in flames, too.

Fresh air hit him, so much better than the stagnant sulfur-saturated air in the cave.

Pulling against Rourke was useless. The male hadn’t been tortured like he had.

“I have to go back, make sure she’s not still in there.”

Rourke pulled him farther away, into the trees. The ground rumbled, and he watched the side of the hill collapse on itself.