Savage Bond (The Fallen) (7 page)

"Time's up," he said, as if he'd run down to the corner store for milk and a dozen eggs. She flinched and he knew his voice sounded flat and unemotional—which was enough of a message, wasn't it? She couldn't keep fucking with him and they both knew it. "You need to make your decision, Ria."

"I can't," she said and her voice was a mere whisper of sound. She cleared her throat, as if she wanted her voice to be bigger, to fill up the space between them, but she was tapped out. "I can't do that, Vkhin. You know who I work for. You know the rules. As long as I'm an MVD agent, I'm not a free agent."

"They don't have to know. You tried to transmit and the transmission got cut off. Maybe you lost the camera when you jumped. Maybe that camera hit the ground a little too hard. There are many reasons why you wouldn't have what they need. Pick a story, Ria, and they don't have to know the truth."

"I don't sell out." Who was she trying to convince?

He shook his head and reached for her wrists. "Everyone does. Everyone has a price."

"Everyone human, you mean," she clarified. He should have left her tied up, because nothing got the point across faster than restraints, but he needed to get her moving fast. So he got out his knife, angling the sharp tip beneath the plastic ties.

He disagreed with her argument, though, and he wasn't feeling polite. "Everyone, Ria. Human. Fallen. We all can be bought if the price is right. We just have to find your price. Hold still," he added as the sharp edge brushed against her exposed skin.

"You're for sale?"

He pulled the blade up, a short, controlled tug. The plastic snapped, leaving .his hand cradling her wrists. "Of course. You think I wouldn't do anything for my brothers, Ria? Anything at all to see them get their wings back and get on with their lives?"

She slid her hands out of his and he let her. He could have stopped her. They both knew that. Only thing she didn't know here was why. "Including come after me for my pictures."

"Including that. Think it over, Ria. Take the night," he added. "If you need to. We'll hit the trail now and you think about my offer."

He hadn't asked her to bond with him. Maybe that omission surprised her, but he didn't fucking care. After all, wasn't that the ultimate purpose of the Fallen here in her world? To seduce and to tempt with their promise of a single, diabolical, all-or-nothing favor? She wouldn't bond with him, but she'd wonder about that dark offer. She'd admit that much to herself, had probably known since she'd found herself tracking his movements across M City. He'd been more than a target. He'd
interested
her.

He'd get her pictures, though. She'd hand them over before she cleared the wall.

He turned away, as if he didn't care whether or not she followed his lead. After all, if she was being honest with herself, he was her only viable option. "We start walking," he said. "We head for the wall now."

"What about you?" This time, she didn't protest his plan. That was a step in the right direction. She came along with him, let him take the lead here, she'd give him what he needed before they hit the walls and he had to admit the truth. That, now he was inside and on the ground, he couldn't simply climb back over the walls. The wards wouldn't let a Fallen touch the wall—because the Preserves were designed to be a one way ticket.

"This is just a walk in the park, right?" she said bitterly. "Nothing to worry about."

 "There's plenty to worry about," he said calmly. "Nothing is safe here. So we're going to head west, right up to the edge of the wall."

 "You have a built-in GPS?"

He shot her a look. "Don't need one." He flicked a finger towards the dark night sky. This far from M City, light pollution was at a minimum. Tonight, the sky was a carpet of bright stars, patterns of light and cloud spread as far as she could see. "There's your map."

"I'd rather have the GPS." Folding her arms over her chest, she stared back at him.

"You don't need it." He looked up, his eyes scanning the sky. "Big Dipper is there." He gestured with the tip of his blade. All that lethal beauty focused on the poetry of the night sky—it didn't fit with what she'd expected from him.
He
wasn't what she'd expected. "And, right next door, you've got the North Star."

His star was beautiful, a harsh, sharp pinprick of light in the black sky. She still would have traded it for a GPS. The sun would erase his map and then where would she be?

"You line those up, you know where you're going."

"I don't."

"You do. Now. Something happens to me, you just keep heading in that direction. You'll hit the wall."

"And then what? You think you can get me over that wall? Or do we just stand around at the base and wait?" she asked.

"I'm going to get you to the wall," he countered, "but I can't climb it. Can't even touch it. The wards won't let anyone, anything, paranormal touch the walls—you don't fly, you don't cross. My helo is out of fuel, so we're not flying. Once we're close enough, though, my team will be watching. I'll either help you scale the wall, or they'll drop you a line so you can climb out."

"The wall doesn't have a door? A gate?"

"No." He eyed her calmly. "You're in the Preserves, Ria. We built these walls to keep the Fallen
in
. No one leaves once he's inside, so no doors. No exits. Only way out is over. This was
meant
to be a prison."

He'd come here to take advantage of her fear and isolation, but instead he wanted to comfort her. To tell her that everything was going to be okay here because she could do this. She wasn't falling apart. Her hands shook, but she was keeping the fear under wraps now. He shouldn't have found that self-control seductive, but he did and so he let himself have just a little taste. The soul thirst rode him hard as always, demanding he throw it an emotional snack. Ria's emotions were sharp and strong. And wrong. Even as his thirst eased just a fraction, fed by her fear, he knew that.

A woman like her shouldn't be afraid. She didn't know everything he'd done in the millennia since he'd Fallen, but her pale, set face still reproached him. Yeah, he belonged right here in the Preserves with the other monsters.

So the wry smile she shot him shocked him. She wouldn't admit he scared the piss out of her and he respected that.

"So if you can't go over, why can I?"

"Because the wall's only warded against paranormals," he said patiently. "You're human, Ria. You can touch it, climb over."

They headed out and he knew he'd be counting the miles down. "You let me know if you need anything and we'll stop."

She nodded, matching her pace to his. "I'm not stopping for anything," she vowed and he told himself that was exactly what he needed. He didn't want another opportunity to kiss her, to taste all those emotions she kept so carefully concealed inside her. Desire and fear. An arousal that teased his senses, had him longing for something more.

Longing for Ria Morgan, who deserved far better than him.

So he wasn't stopping and he was getting her home.

If he gave into temptation, if he stopped, he might not let her go.

Chapter Four

The crash site stank of death and super-heated metal. The sharp copper tang hit the back of Hazor's nose, burning down into his lungs until he was more awake than he'd been in months, hyper-aware of his surroundings and the rogues crawling over the wreckage of the downed chopper. The human still strapped in the pilot's seat was very clearly dead and there was little he could do with that kind of leftover. The emotions had gone with the soul. Now, the fire had burned the body almost beyond recognition, melting the MVD-issue jumpsuit onto the blackened remains.

That made Hazor's job here that much easier.

One less human to tell the world that he'd seen Hazor raising an army here in the Preserves—an army with forbidden wings. If word got out, if the Heavens learned too much about Hazor's activities down here, the archangel who had taught Hazor the secret of restoring the Fallen's wings would also Fall and Hazor would lose his own newly regained wings.

And that wasn't happening.

"There were three humans," Hazor growled.

His second-in-command inhaled sharply and hissed. "Not all dead."

"One dead. Two jumpers. Both female." Hazor pointed to the corpse. "Pilot went down with the bird, but the photographer and the bodyguard jumped clear. First went out about five minutes before the chopper went down. We'll start the search two clicks west of here. The other jumped last minute, so she should be close."

 The second jumper wasn't mission critical. She was muscle for the photographer and Hazor doubted the woman had seen anything beyond her targets. If she'd had the vidstick from the camera, she'd have bailed sooner instead of trying to draw the rogues' fire away from her companion. Whatever intel she had was in her head. Taking care of her would be simple.

The photographer was a different story, he realized as he examined the burnt wreckage of the tripod-mounted camera. Fire had gone to work but not before someone had popped the vidstick, which meant whatever info had been on the camera was now walking around the Preserves.

His second snapped his fingers, summoning a tracker to his side. Rezon was a big, hard bastard with a scar that twisted down the left side of his face. Topping out at well over six feet, he towered over the other rogues who cleared a path for him. He was all cold menace and didn't so much as blink when Hazor gave him his orders.

"You take the second jumper." He'd go after the photographer himself.

""Kill or retrieve?"  Rezon asked in a flat voice.

"Retrieve." There were advantages to getting his hands on the missing female and you didn't send a tracker like Rezon after a female without clarifying the life-or-death situation. "If you can. If she gives you trouble, kill her. The first girl, however—I want her alive. She'll have the vidstick somewhere on her person." And, even if she didn't, he still needed to make sure. He couldn't allow the information she was carrying to fall into the hands of the Fallen—and he'd fought alongside those bastards for too many years to write them off now. The Fallen would send someone after the chopper.

"Speed," he said, "is of the essence. I want these girls. Now."

Nodding, the tracker peeled off, heading north to find the second jumper. Rezon had never lost a trail yet.

Dismissing the tracker and his quarry, Hazor turned his attention back to the crash site and its surroundings, running his eyes over the deets.  Twenty minutes and five hundred yards later and he had his direction.  The broken canopy and a minute trace of blood on the trees below said that this was where the photographer had hit the ground. He snapped out an order and a second team took off, running hard on her scent. He'd catch up with them after he'd finished his sweep of the crash site. Just in case there was anything—any
clue—
he was missing here
.

Hazor had his orders and they were simple. Kill the girl. She'd seen too much, taken photos of Hazor intoning the runes that gave a rogue back his wings in exchange for a demonic bargain. Maybe, she wouldn't—couldn't—connect those dots. Or, on the other hand, maybe she could. Just maybe, she could repeat the runes and that made her a walking recipe for how to add wings to a Fallen. If that was the case, she couldn't be allowed to leave the Preserves. That information could
not
be allowed to fall into the hands of Zer and his lieutenants.

So the order had gone out.

The human photographer and her companions had to die. Fast or slow, it didn't matter. What did matter was ensuring she never spoke of what she'd seen.

Picking up the trail, he got his ass in gear and moved out, his pack following close on his heels. He'd lead. They'd follow. It was almost too simple, like using an Uzi to shoot fish in a barrel. Too damned easy. 

Sucking air deep into his lungs, he memorized the scent and the taste of his prey. Her aura tasted like lemons and orange, ginger and cinnamon. He could almost taste the shock of her crash landing in the middle of a prison. He inhaled again, holding the breath as long as he could. And desire.

The human woman smelled most deliciously of arousal.