Savage Bond (The Fallen) (16 page)

"You just now got around to mentioning that?" She squeezed off a round and got one of her own.

"You can still hurt," he said grimly. "Don't underestimate how much you can feel."

"Got it," she snapped. "What's second on your list?"

"This," he said. Raising her hand to his mouth, he launched a throwing star. Four down. "I love you. Now stay the hell back."

The pack surged and he sprang into action

Pull. Cut. Fire. He cut ruthlessly through Hazor's pack. Feet apart, boots planted, he was a cold whirlwind of death. He'd been trained as a Heavenly warrior—and then exiled. He'd spent three thousand years street fighting and no one was getting to his soul mate. Not now. Not ever.  That mate stood shoulder to shoulder with him because she was done hiding and there was no safe ground here anyhow. Still, he got his body between her and their oncoming, ignoring her protesting growl.

He pumped and fired, the shotgun taking off the head of the rogue nearest them in a crimson spray. There were still too many rogues on their feet and circling.

"Reload," Vkhin snapped, tossing the gun over his shoulder. "Now, Ria."

Her hands grabbed for the barrel. "On it."

Hazor headed his way, the bastard clearly done watching from the sidelines as his pack took hit after hit.

Vkhin didn't hesitate. Going on the offensive, he strode towards Hazor, his boots eating up the ground. As he closed in, he got one hand wrapped around the handle of his blade, pulling the sharp edge in close to his chest. Hazor wouldn't hand him his opportunity, so he'd take it. The blade was just another extension of his hand. Part of him. All he had to do was hit his target.

Hazor struck first, driving across the downed bodies of his pack. Fyreblade out and reaching for Vkhin's throat. Vkhin feinted, letting the blade cut through newly empty air. As Hazor's body followed the fyreblade, Vkhin drove his own blade up with lethal force. A quick prick and penetration that unerringly found the soft spot between the other male's ribs.

Vkhin's other fist rose and fell, striking with lethal force. He didn't need a blade to inflict damage.  His fist drove in and out, battering his opponent. There was nothing elegant or pretty about a blade fight. The air around them smelled of shit as the blade bit deep into the other's lower intestine.

Score one for him.

Driving forward, he took back the ground. Step by step. Until he and Hazor were skin-to-skin, hand to hand. Arms locked and fighting for control of the blades. Hazor's blade slashed across Vkhin's forearm, a long, shallow burn of a cut, and Vkhin cursed.

Hazor's blade came back around again, as the rogue Fallen's lips peeled back. "I'm going to skin you inch by inch, Fallen. Flay those bonding marks right off you."

Vkhin struck hard and fast with his free hand and Hazor's head snapped backwards with a satisfying crunch. He followed with a fast series of blows. Punch. Strike with the blade. His fist plowed into the other's face, then planted the blade deep in the exposed neck as Hazor's head followed the blow. One hard twist of his arm and the other's head listed.

"Not today," he said through gritted teeth. His blade took Hazor's head.
Not ever
.

As Hazor's body hit the ground, the final rogue picked himself up off the ground and swung towards them. Vkhin reached for weapons—mind already calculating whether it would be quicker to pull the blade out of Hazor's neck or palm the back-up blade strapped to his thigh—but Ria already had it.

As he'd fought, he'd been aware that she'd been laying down protective cover to keep the remaining rogues from massing. Now, the shotgun came down over his shoulder. He braced himself, holding steady.

"Ready?" she growled.

"Always," he murmured.

She fired, the shotgun driving down into his shoulder as the butt recoiled. There was a roar of heated sound in his ear and then the last rogue went down and stayed down.

"Ria." Vkhin's dark voice spoke Ria's name like her name was a promise.

She looked at him. Looked away from the carnage surrounding them. Fighting wasn't pretty. War wasn't, but sometimes, there were things that had to be done. She'd done exactly that, so she'd be okay. She realized she was rubbing her arms with her hands and forced herself to drop her hands by her side. She was going to be okay.

Really.

"We need to go," he said. He held out his hand to her. "Come here, baby. We're going to get you home now."

"How?" Suspicion colored her voice. "Neither of us can touch that wall."

"No." He shook his head patiently, unfolding his wings. The dark arches stretched up into the sky behind him. "That's why we're going to fly."

"You want me to fly. No way." She took a step backwards, but he kept right on holding out his hand—that big, strong warm hand. This close, there was no missing the black swirls of their bonding marks, a tangible promise. Right now, Vkhin belonged to her, was hers in every way possible until he'd given her that one favor. That was how the bond worked. One promised favor. One bond—until the favor was met. Despite the raw heat in his eyes that promised he'd give her everything, he'd leave when he'd fulfilled the terms of their bargain.

"No flying, Vkhin." There. Her words sounded confident, sure. He'd get the message and together they'd figure out another way out of here. Given the carnage surrounding them, it might even be possible to wait it out until a search party found them.

Because there was no way she flew. The wall cutting them off from the rest of the world was too tall, too high. That wall stretched upwards hundreds of feet and she'd done thousands in the chopper, but the chopper had crashed, hadn't it? She sucked air in, her chest painfully tight. Her mind knew the air was coming in, but her lungs didn't seem to have the message. Each new breath was a struggle. Heat flushed her face, warming her body unbearably.

"Ria," he crooned. He took a step towards her, closing the distance. His arms came around her and the gesture was too tender. That searing intimacy wasn't what she'd expected from her brutal warrior. There was tenderness in that touch, even if he didn't know it. "Breath, baby."

"I don't fly." She didn't let her doubts color her voice.

"You flew in here," he pointed out calmly.

"And that was a mistake. One I don't intend to make again."

His hand reached up and stroked her cheek. "You know there's no other way out."

"Find one." She could be stubborn when she needed to be.

"Why?" he asked. When she didn't answer right away, he kept right on pushing. "Why don't you like flying?"

She stared at him mutely.

He gave that her patient look, the one that did unspeakable things to her insides because she'd never expected to see patience on his face. Worse, he dropped a kiss on her forehead, as if he'd known her for years and they were the kind of couple who had years of anniversaries under their belt.

"You need to tell me, baby. We have to go over the wall, because there's no other way out. That's the way the Preserves work. You fly in. You fly out." His head turned away from her, looking up. "The Fallen will be on their way, but I don't know when they'll get here. Maybe, your people will come for you, too, but these aren't certainties. Do you need to take that chance?"

He wasn't forcing her. He was
asking
. He took his watchdog gaze off the still-empty skies and eyed her face instead, as if he thought he'd find answers there. Maybe he'd find an answer she didn't have, because she didn't know why she hated flying. Just that letting her feet leave the ground like that, watching all that empty space open up between herself and safety, wasn't something she took lightly. She wasn't sure, however she could explain to him what she didn't fully understand herself.

She dragged in one breath, then another, while he just held her, waiting for her to make up her mind.

"I love you," he continued. "You want to stay here until MVD or the Fallen come up with a chopper, we can do that." The understanding in his voice almost broke her. "Maybe, we hike up until we hit a watch tower and see if we can signal for help."

"It's not a good idea, is it? But it's not as if my last flight ended well," she pointed out. She wanted him to tell her she was wrong, but she already knew he wouldn't.

"Safest course of action is to go now. These rogues aren't a threat," he dismissed the remains of their attackers with brutal practicality. "But there will be more."

"Soon?"

He shrugged, but he didn't drop his arms. She gave in to temptation and laid her head on his chest. That heart beat of his was strong and steady.  "Probably. So you tell me what you need to do. You need to wait, we wait. I'll take care of anyone who comes after us," he promised. "You'll go home, one way or another. I promise you that. Trust me."

God. She did, she realized. She trusted him.

"Alright." She tilted her head back, watching his face. "Then let's go now. I'm ready to go home, Vkhin. Take me there."

When he wrapped his arms around her, she tensed, her heart beat hitting train wreck speed. "Your feet are still on the ground, baby," he whispered.

His wings unfolded, slid free from the dark tattoo inked across his back, dark and powerful.  As strong and hard as the male they bore up. The soft rustle filled the space between them.

"This flight will be different," he promised. "No more crash landings, Ria."

"Yes," she whispered and those wings opened completely and beat, hard and strong, driving them away from the ground and up into the sky.

 He kissed her as he took her up, sweet and slow and deep. She held on to him, losing herself in the man and the indescribable heat of his mouth. The sensations of soaring and weightlessness.

God, he was incredible.

Too soon, her feet bumped against the balcony of her flat. A quick flick of his wrist had her balcony doors open and then he was backing her inside.

Chapter Ten

The need to get that damned vidstick to her desk drove him forward. He needed to wind up this damned favor business, so he could get on with the important things. Like figuring out a way to keep his soul mate forever. In his arms. Where he wanted—needed—her to be. He wanted her to choose him, choose them, and that meant holding up his end of their bargain so she wasn't bound to him.

He didn't know what he would do if she didn't choose him.

Pushing the thought from his head, he forced his fingers to pull the slim stick out of his pocket. Part of him really didn't want to let go because what he had with her right now was still so much better than the emptiness of before that he almost didn't want to take the chance of losing.

This was going to be her choice.

Since she hadn't specified
which
desk she wanted the pics delivered to, and he was choosing that much. That, he smiled slowly, was a mistake. Her bedroom worked just fine for him. The vidstick landed on her desk with a small click and he turned around to face her.

"You've got your pictures," he said. "On your desk. Just as you asked."

Her eyes widened and the bond between them snapped. Just like that, the direct in he had on her emotions was gone. It was okay, he told himself. He could still sense her, still had the bigger connection because she was still his soul mate and there was nothing that could break that greater bond. He didn't need to drink her emotions because he had emotions of his own now. Too many emotions. Love, tenderness,
fear
—all cascading through him and making him stand there and stare at her because he didn't know where or how to start.

Judgment time.

Except! he still needed to call in and make the situation clear to the other Fallen. Snagging the charging cell from her desk, he made a quick call to the Fallen. The what-the-hells and the details covered five minutes and, when he snapped the phone shut, clean-up was already headed for the Preserves. He'd take the pictures in later. Ria hadn't considered the longer term implications of her request; he'd delivered the vidstick to her desk, sure, but the moment the device had hit the surface, he'd been free of his promise. Sometimes, being Fallen was all about the letter of the law and not the spirit.