Enslaved in Shadows (38 page)

             
The thought made her gag over and over again in between screams.
She grew hoarse at first.
The feeling of sand paper scrapping over the soft tissue in her throat stopped her from screaming. She didn’t want to damage her voice.
But then he’d gotten really inventive.
He’d take a break, walk around her flayed
body,
and bend to lick the blood from her toes as it dripped down her thighs to a pool on the floor.
She told herself that was the worst part of this whole ordeal, but she’d been wrong.

             
In his
hands,
he produced a ball with tiny maggot like things that crawled over each other. He shook it and a loud buzzing noise emitted from the orb, almost like they were screaming.
He brought the ball closer, until her swollen eyes could adjust, she could see the worms, biting at each
other,
and although she couldn’t see
blood,
they were pissed that he’d shaken them up.

             
“Aaah, the ball worms,” he hissed.

             
Jesminda’s body went taut with fear, h
e was going to put them on her. S
he just knew it.
Her voice a ragged whisper she looked him in the eye.

             
“Just fucking kill me you son of a bitch!”

             
“That would be entirely too easy, death,” he tilted his head to the side to study her, “No; I think I will keep you alive for a couple of weeks, months even.
I’ve experimented with this and that where you’re concerned. Should you survive it will be a miracle.”

             
She didn’t think she had a voice left but as he opened the ball of worms and threw them in her face.
She screamed a horrid ragged sound that severed her voice box.
A few had gotten into her mouth chocking her and she chewed thinking she could kill them that way. To her horror when she bit down, the few in her mouth became many. She realized with agony they couldn’t be killed.
No,
they fucking multiplied and as her body struggled and the worms ate away at her, a sudden calm took hold of her and she felt warmth. Intense warmth as if she was locked in a box in the deepest regions of her mind, the pain blissfully went away.
She was going home.
Finally,
death showed her mercy.

Chapter 24

             
The wolf didn’t care as he bounded into the warehouse of manmade material, it smelled horrible. There was defecation and death all around him and still he ran. Vampires and Regs were caged in cells not fit enough for dogs. In this
place,
they were equal. Draven’s wolf passed the cages ignoring their cries for help.
What he cared about was his mate. Her fear knocked him back a few steps once he’d penetrated the barrier that had kept the noise out. The others hadn’t been able to hear the noise and neither could he. She could have been screaming for hours. He howled in rage at the thought.
Draven didn’t hesitate as he pounded up the metal stairs and ripped the door off its hinges.
He knew the others were following somewhere close behind. He ran and ran until he came to a door slightly ajar.
The screams had come from the direction to his left. No sound came out now, was his too late? Was she dead? Gods help the man who did it.
His wolf crept quietly to the door and looked inside.

             
Her body was strung up by some invisible line he couldn’t see. As he took in the
scene,
his wolf recoiled for a split second before he regrouped and took in his surroundings. Her skin was stripped at her back. There were stitches going from her throat to her navel. Both beast and man raged at the atrocity of her ordeal. He’d failed, failed to keep her from harm’s way. Draven’s wolf understood now why she’d fought him at every turn. Even if Marcus hadn’t helped to commit the
crime,
he put her here.
Her neck was bruised and blood dripped a steady stream off her toes onto the floor. The beast was crazed as well as the man. They would fix it, would save her. Had to.
He tried to process the different smells inside the room.
There was a strong malevolent presence. Reverberated in the space and attempted to beat at his skin. The hairs on his back rose in aggression.
His teeth elongated further, waited for whatever evil still stood in the room with him, now waiting to strike.
He looked to his mate, and sent of a prayer to his Gods. She seemed peaceful, as if the pain she’d born hadn’t destroyed what resolve she had left.

             
The animal part of him knew she smelled different. The human part of him tried to quell his rising anger at her mistreatment.
He could hear his human half yelling.
Dietrich is here, patience will get us all things. Calm be the waters till the storm hits.

             
Calm be the waters, but the wolf’s storm was rising and rising fast. There wasn’t much he couldn’t do in this form, and that included defeating the dark magic that swirled around him.
The temperature in the room dropped as the presence peeled itself away from a darken corner on his far left.

             
“I see we are no longer alone.”

             
Draven’s wolf rose to his full height on his two hind legs and stalked closer. His body contorted, adjusted into a true werewolf.
In his beast
form,
he wasn’t able to reason, there was only one
goal,
and that was to get to his mate.
His wolf reached out, claws extended and attempted to slice the thing in half. His claws went straight through, didn’t stop his progression.
He continued wildly, attack after attack but was unable to break skin.

             
“That’s not going to work on me dog,” the man stated.

             
He didn’t care. Draven roared in frustration and attempted to pounce on him but hit the wall in the opposite direction by an unseen force.
There was something really wrong with this picture. He could handle all things in this form.
Didn’t matter what he faced immortal, magic, or human. He could take it!
They were losing but the beast didn’t care. Blow after blow came, and when it seemed all was lost he smelled something foul in the corner. Distracted by the smell of death he approached it.
As he made contact with the mass on the floor, the dark man went into a rush of flying fits and blows to his side.
It didn’t stop Draven who lunged at his opponent who was no longer in non-corporeal form. Their bodies connected mid-air and landed on the ground in a heap of fists,
claws,
and skin.
Draven wasn’t going to be defeated. He refused to let Jes down again. The man attempted to sit on top of his chest and stab him with something glowing bright blue.

             
He roared when the knife successfully stuck him in his shoulder. It immediately turned him back into his human form.
His body crumpled on the floor as the blood from his wound ran down his bare shoulder and burned like hell’s fire.

             
“Who brings a knife to a fist fight?” Draven asked as he attempted to stand. The dagger was deep, draining him of his strength.

             
“Someone prepared to do battle with anything.” The man answered.

             
Draven could see his eyes and they were dead soulless. It was as if he was one of the death walkers, only smarter. Or dumber depending on how you looked at the situation. Draven looked to where he knew Jes was hung up and stifled a shocked gasp. She wasn’t there.
Dietrich.
He must have possessed her body and somehow got her out of the warehouse. He didn’t care how he was grateful for what the other man did. Large portions of gratitude poured from his soul. She was safe, would survive.

             
“Question?” Draven asked hoarsely.

             
The man arched a brow as if surprised. “Answer.”

             
“We’re you last in line when it came to getting super villain names? My friend Royce seems to think so.” Blood began clogging his passageway as he spoke. He spit the blood on the floor and smiled.

             
The man stood straighter at the question and looked completely perplexed.

             
“You’re about to meet your maker and you ask me about my name?”

             
Draven was amazed at the level of intelligence from the notorious Red Sun.
He out right laughed, well he tried laughing. He spit more blood. Where the fuck was back up?

             
“Come on, I mean really The Red Sun, that doesn’t inspire me to fear you or to even consider you a worthy opponent. Seriously the name sucks.” Draven taunted. His lungs were burning. What did that dagger do to him?

             
“The Red Sun is not my name it’s the name of my organization.”

             
“Even worse.” Draven said through harsh breaths. He was sitting up now and the sting of pain in his shoulder was easing for the moment. He eyed the black mass in the corner again and noticed it was no longer there. It was on the ceiling of the room, silently slinking across the width of space. Draven’s skin burned from the inside out. He winced.

             
“I see you’ve noticed your normal state is somewhat altered.”

             
“Is this where you go into your long babbling monologue of how you’re going to take over the world?
Because I don’t think I have the patience to hear it.”
Damn.

             
“You’re trying my patience.”

             
“Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Well, first I have another question what’s your name big daddy?”
Keep him talking. He thought as he spit more blood. Someone would come soon. He was in serious shit. Where the fuck was Royce?

             
The man looked shocked. Royce was right, having a sense of humor in a dire situation fucked up the opponent mentally. Damn his vision was getting blurry. Draven realized the room had started to spin. He put his head between his knees for a moment to catch his breath. His opponent stood in front of him and reminded Draven why it was bad to let your guard down even for a moment.
As he brought his head back up his face was introduced to the underside of the man’s size twelve’s, and the reason he knew the size? Well, that was because as the boot came into view, sure enough the fuckers read 12w and then it was lights out.

Chapter 25

(Six weeks later)

Jesminda woke up in a white sterile room. She could see she was in some type of enclosure, but wasn’t certain. Everything was still hazy.
Her head didn’t hurt, which was a plus, and she wasn’t in any pain. The horrible events came crashing back from the other night.
The beatings, the ball worms, and then the blissful warmth, where was she now?
She couldn’t remember anything past that.

             
She tried to look around and see more of her surroundings but couldn’t. She was strapped down on a bed with all kinds of machines beeping around her as her heart sped out of control. Where was Draven? Was Faith okay? Why wasn’t anyone coming into her room? Was she still in the hands of The Red Sun? Oh for fuck sakes use your voice, she thought.

             
“Hello! Hello! Can anybody hear me? Hello?” Her throat was horse, but she kept screaming. Jes’ voice became louder and louder until someone finally stood over her.
It was Royce and Dravaggio. They were there trying to calm her.
Where was Faith and Draven? Why were they looking at her like that? Her stomach bottomed out as she thought back to the ball worms, oh dear God was her skin gone? Was she just a wasted skeleton, with melted skin that only showed her bones?
Tears began leaking out the corner of her eyes as Royce pulled back the curtains on one side and smiled down at her.

             
“No sweet, you’re not a skeleton and your skin hasn’t melted away, look.” He unstrapped her legs and arms. He raised her free arm and showed her skin that was her own.
Her relief was short lived because he still hadn’t answered her questions concerning Faith and Draven.

             
“Faith’s here, Bells is with her and her everything is fine sweet. I promise.” Royce said against her brow as he placed a kiss against her forehead.
The bastard still wasn’t telling her where Draven was. Where was he?
She eyed him, willed him to answer her question. Where was Draven?
Why wasn’t he here s
itting beside her? W
aiting for her when she woke up?
The assignments over.
He’d changed his mind. Could be the only reason he wasn’t here. Royce gently took her hand.