Desire Unchained (15 page)

soared. Maybe he wasn’t truly bonded to Runa. Maybe … she began to stroke, and he deflated

like a punctured lung.

Fuck.

He wheeled away. The need for sex was still there, raw and persistent, but his groin felt

as if it was connected to Runa by a rope. It tugged, bringing his erection back, making him burn.

Runa might not be marked, but he was definitely bonded to her. She wanted sex, and by

the way his adrenaline was surging, she wanted it in a way she hadn’t before.

Damn her, she was going for his jugular, and it was only a matter of time before he bled

out.

“Ky, buddy, would you mind checking on Wraith?”

Eidolon strode into the ER, where Kynan and Gem had been treating a Trillah demon—a

sleek, catlike species—with a mangled foot. Gem had just come on shift, so they still hadn’t

dealt with how Kynan had practically run out of the break room yesterday, and the air between

them crackled with unacknowledged tension.

“What’s wrong with Wraith?” Ky tossed some bloody gauze into the trash.

“Remember the dead brother I told you about?”

Kynan nodded. “Roag, right?”

“He’s alive.”

“What?” Gem looked up from spiking a bag of saline. “That can’t be right.”

Fury flared in Eidolon’s expression, quickly snuffed by the doctor’s usual cool façade.

“I’m having a hard time believing it myself.” He snapped on some surgical gloves, all business,

which was, Ky had discovered, how the guy handled stress. “Shade says he’s behind the newest

black market operation that’s been filling our ER and morgue. He captured Shade, forced him to

bond with a warg, and … and he killed Skulk.”

“Jesus,” Kynan muttered. He watched Eidolon assess the patient as though nothing out of

the ordinary had just happened, but his eyes, flecked with red that came out when he was

extremely pissed off, were flashing.

“I don’t know how Wraith is going to react to all of this once it sinks in. I’d appreciate it

if you could help me keep an eye on him.”

Great. Just his luck to get tasked with babysitting detail. “No problem.” He stripped off

his bloody gloves and checked his watch. Six hours. He’d be off duty in six hours and drunk as a

skunk in seven. Couldn’t happen soon enough.

He’d wanted to get lit last night after the encounter with Gem, but there’d been a minor

crisis at Aegis headquarters, a rookie Guardian who’d fallen apart after her first battle. Tayla

could handle pretty much anything that came up during normal operations, but she was a little

too hard-edged to deal with meltdowns. The traumatized Guardian had also required medical

attention, so he’d pulled double duty as medic and shrink. Afterward, he’d gone straight to the

tiny bachelor pad he’d moved into after his wife left him and crashed out of exhaustion rather

than an alcohol binge. Tayla had offered to let him stay on the couch at headquarters, a

six-bedroom house where two dozen Guardians lived, but he couldn’t bear to stay where he and

Lori had been happy.

Happy.
What a joke. He had no idea how long Lori had been cheating on him before he

caught her, but now their entire relationship was in doubt, all the way back to his first military deployment. She could have been screwing anyone while he was getting his ass shot at in deserts

and jungles.

“I left him in Shade’s room,” E said. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Damn straight.” Kynan stalked out of the emergency department, made it to Shade’s

room a minute later.

The door opened as he reached for it, and Ciska brushed past him, a secret smile on her

lips. The secret became less of one when he entered the room and saw Wraith zipping up.

Wraith rolled his eyes. “E sent you, right?”

“Yep.” Kynan closed the door.

“I don’t need a babysitter, so take a hike.”

Ignoring Wraith, Kynan sank down in a chair. “Where’s Shade?”

“Probably fucking his
mate
by now.”

Yeah, that news had spread like hellfire through the hospital. Ky wasn’t sure why Shade

taking a mate was such a big deal, since E had done the same, but apparently it was a Very Bad

Thing.

“It’ll work out, Wraith. It’ll be fine.”

“Whatever. I don’t care.”

“Don’t give me that shit. You care a lot.”

Wraith snorted. “I don’t care about anyone or anything, human.” He jabbed Ky in the

chest with one finger, leaned in close to growl in his ear, “I’d sell out my own brothers for the

right price. Get that through your thick skull.”

With that, Wraith stalked out of the room. As the door shut, Kynan heard him shout,

“Hey, female! Come here!”

Kynan stared at the door. Wraith might not be looking for a fight or making a beeline for

a junkie right now, but he had a tendency to use sex in place of drugs or violence when he was

upset.

When the sex ran out, Wraith was going to go for one of his other two vices, and then

things would get ugly fast.

Wraith waited until the lab technician he’d just screwed closed the door to the supply

closet in which they’d just bumped uglies. Strike that—
he’d
bumped ugly. With her underbite,

overgrown lower canines, and patchy fur, she wasn’t the most attractive Slogthu he’d ever

banged.

As soon as she was gone, he slid to the floor, spine against the wall, and buried his face in

his hands.

Fucking Kynan. What made him think Wraith cared about anything?

I’d sell out my own brothers for the right price.

His words rang through his head, a harsh truth because he
had
sold out a brother. He’d

betrayed his own kind, his own flesh and blood.

And he’d fucking gotten off on it.

Three years ago, while hunting New York City street gang members for sport more than

out of a need to feed, he’d run into an Aegis slayer. Naturally, the moron had tried to kill him.

Wraith supposed the guy had been an adequate enough fighter, but there wasn’t a being on earth or in the demon realm of Sheoul who could take Wraith in hand-to-hand, and within seconds, he

had the guy on the ground, dagger at his jugular.

It had been tempting to kill him, to drain him dry with his teeth. Instead, he’d given the

guy a tip. Well, more than a tip. Wraith had practically drawn the Aegi a map to Roag.

Roag, who’d had a tenuous hold on sanity before
s’genesis
, and who had gone about as

evil as could be after. Wraith and his brothers had agreed that none of them should have to live

like that, but no matter what Roag did, Eidolon demanded full investigations before any severe

punitive action was taken.

But the investigations took too long, and finally, after finding the remains of a human

female Roag had raped to death, Wraith took action.

He could have killed Roag himself, but E would have figured it out. Wraith hadn’t

counted on The Aegis taking out the entire demon bar where Roag had been hanging out. Not

that it had been a big deal—so what if a bunch of vamps and demons got whacked? But didn’t it

just figure that the one who was supposed to have died was the one who survived.

And now, because of Wraith, Roag had tortured Shade, nearly killed him, and had killed

Skulk, one of the few females at UG Wraith hadn’t screwed—and not because Shade would have

blown a valve. Wraith had kinda liked her in a big-brother way.

And now she was dead, and Shade was suffering. Because of him.

“I’m so sorry, Shade,” he whispered.

He threw his head back against the wall, eyes closed, mind jonesing for the mellow blotto

of a drug binge or the cranked-up rush of a battle high. Sex wasn’t working; he could screw

every female in the hospital and it wouldn’t be enough. He needed more.

Balling his fist, he punched it into the wall. The pain gave him a momentary buzz, but

dammit, nothing was going to fix his life. He figured he still had a year left before
s’genesis
, and then he wouldn’t give a shit about any of this.

But right now it hurt. And with the exception of self-inflicted pain, he didn’t do hurt well.

“This is like the plot from a bad comic book,” Roag growled. “I’m surrounded by

complete incompetence.”

A Drec minion knelt before him, his head bowed. It had been nearly a day since Shade

escaped, and the mess still hadn’t been cleaned up. Several of his Ghouls were missing, and

Sheryen hadn’t returned from Eternal yet, which wasn’t unusual, but which pissed him off

nevertheless.

“Only two of our other captives escaped when their cell doors were damaged by falling

stone,” the Drec said.

Roag’s withered hand curled into a fist. He wasn’t concerned about the
other
escapees.

What really chapped his cracked hide was that Shade and the warg bitch had broken free.

Fury seared him, shivered painfully across his ruined skin. Wraith was going to pay for

ruining his life. For turning him into a burned-out shell.

Because he had no doubt Wraith was ultimately responsible. The night at Brimstone

played over and over in his head, a movie that was stuck in a permanent play-rewind-play cycle.

He’d been minding his own business, fucking a couple of faeries in the back of the pub, when the

place had been overrun by Aegi. Roag noticed that one slayer, a Mohawk-haired punk, had been

searching for someone in particular, and when he laid eyes on Roag, he’d zeroed in.

Roag had known, in that moment, that he’d been targeted. Instantly, he used his gift to

enter the slayer’s mind, and he’d seen a memory in the slayer’s head. One where he’d been

tipped off by Wraith, given directions to Brimstone and a description of Roag. His little brother

had even sweetened the pot by telling the Aegi that he’d pay for proof of Roag’s death.

Thanks to
s’genesis
, Roag had been able to shapeshift into something bigger and meaner,

and he’d ripped that Aegi apart. When the pub erupted in flames, the only thing that had saved

his life was that the demon he’d shifted into was immune to fire. Shifting into another species

didn’t bring with it the special gifts unique to the species, so Roag hadn’t been completely

immune, but he’d received enough resistance to prevent him from burning to a pile of ash. Still,

if not for Solice showing up after the slayers left, he’d have died.

He’d always despised Wraith, despised the attention showered on him by E and Shade,

but since that day at Brimstone he’d wanted Wraith to suffer as no one in history ever had. And

when Roag was satisfied that Wraith had suffered enough, he would die. But not before playing

skin and organ donor. Wraith would give back what he’d taken from Roag.

A commotion at the end of the hall grabbed his attention, and when he looked up, his

heart, what was left of it, stopped.

“My lord,” a Nightlash minion said, “we found her near the Harrowgate …” The

Nightlash carried Sheryen’s crumpled, broken body in his arms.

Roag stared at Sheryen as she was placed at his feet.

A bloody, injured Darquethoth limped forward. “We chased your brother and his female.

They attacked—”

“Who killed Sheryen?” he rasped. “
Who?
”

“Your brother’s mate, my lord.”

Rage rolled through him, rattling his bones, stretching his joints, making his leathery skin

crack until blood streamed from the fissures.

“Summon a necromancer.”

The Darquethoth hissed. “But master—”

“Do it!” Roag roared. “Now!” He would have his lover back. Consequences be damned.

“And get a new spy into the hospital.”

“Yes, master.”

“I will have Wraith,” he swore, “and I will ruin my brothers’ lives, but first I will have

that bitch’s head on a spike.”

Roag knelt next to his beloved, his entire body shaking as he pulled her into his arms.

Thank the Great Satan she’d died near a Harrowgate, where the demonic energy prevented her

body from disintegrating.

With a silent prayer, he willed the necromancer to hurry. Sheryen must be reanimated

before her body began to decay, and the clock was ticking.

“Fear not, my love.” He brushed his mouth over hers, glad she couldn’t feel his scarred,

stiff lips. “Soon, I will be wearing Wraith’s skin, and you will feel the pump of Runa’s blood in

your veins.”

He smiled at the thought, the delicious irony that only the blood of the one who had killed

her would bring Sheryen back to life.

Eight

Runa lay on the floor of Shade’s cave, her body aching with residual postshift tenderness,

her stomach knotted with hunger. She also ached with arousal, an inconvenient side effect of the

shift from beast to human after a full moon. The effects usually lasted an hour or so as the primal

animal hormones raged inside her human body. It didn’t help that she’d awakened naked on a

blanket that was steeped in Shade’s scent.

Bad enough that he affected her when he was with her. Now he was doing it from a

distance.

Need twisted her insides, made her clench her thighs and her teeth. She hated this phase

of the werewolf change, when no amount of self-gratification was enough. Raw, violent urges

roared through her, and it was probably a good thing Shade wasn’t here, because she knew damn

good and well she’d attack him.

For sex.

Where was he, anyway? she wondered. Her stomach rumbled, and her mouth watered.

Why had Shade not delivered food last night as he said he would? Had something happened to