Riley Jensen 03 - Tempting Evil Part 17

The woman stretched her arms, wriggled her fingers. If she was alarmed by the fact she was outnumbered or that these things were naked and nasty looking in the equipment department, it didn't show. Confidence still held sway over her expression. But how long would it last once the blue things got moving?

One of them began to fan his wings harder and, with gentle grace, rose in the air. The other walked forward, his wings fanning slowly, barely even stirring the few pale wisps of hair that spotted his blue head.

She didn't wait for them to come to her, and attacked the man on the ground with a ferocity that was surprising. The blue thing was momentarily beaten backward by the force and speed of her blows, and yet, at the same time, seemed unworried by them.

The second creature rose high, then with a flick of his wings, dove downward. The air screamed with the force of his plummet, and the woman threw herself out of his path. Claws raked the air, missing her skin but snagging strands of gold. They glittered brightly under the spotlights as the creature soared upward again. The woman hit the sand and rolled to her feet in one smooth movement, but barely had time to turn around before the grounded creature was on her. His blows were a blur, fast and hard, and for every ten punches she blocked, five got through. No were or shifter, no matter how tough, could stand such a beating for long.

As her confidence gave way to desperation and her breath became little more than sobs of fear, the blue thing on the ground stepped back. The woman dropped to her knees, alternatively sucking in great gulps of air and crying. I wanted to jump up, to scream that it wasn't over, that those things hadn't finished with her yet, but I forced myself to remain still and watch events. I couldn't help her, and I couldn't risk drawing unwanted attention, so I really had no other choice.

The circling creature began to drop. Antic.i.p.ation rode the air, thick and sharp. I looked across at the other tables.

Most were watching with avid fascination. Waiting for blood, wanting flesh to be rent and torn.

Bile rose, and it took every ounce of control I had not to throw up right there and then. At least the blue things were doing what they were bred to do-kill. The people watching had no such excuse. It made me hate them, made me want to throw them all into the arena and watch them scream and struggle against the blue things.

The stirring air must have warned the woman of the second creature's approach, because she suddenly gasped and threw herself to one side. Wicked claws rent her back as she rolled, and blood began to flow freely down her sides. A collective cheer went up in the arena, and some even began urging the creatures on.

The only table that was totally quiet was ours. Nerida wasn't even watching. Her eyes were closed and her whole body trembled-though I couldn't smell fear, so it was probably anger.

As one creature soared away, the other came in. This time the woman had no chance, and no time, to avoid the blows. Soon she wasn't even trying, just lying on the sand with her hands over her head, her whimpering lost to the whirring of wings, the thud of flesh against flesh and the cheers of the crowd.

After G.o.d knows how long, the other creature landed, and together the two of them dragged the bloodied woman over to the post. They pulled her upright and tied her chest-first against the wood.

And then, without ceremony, they b.u.t.t-f.u.c.ked her. She screamed, a sound so high and filled with agony that tears filled my eyes. I closed them, and covered my ears with my hands, but still her agony hit, battering my skin, my senses, reaching deep down to my soul, making me sicker than I ever thought possible.

They would pay for this. G.o.d help me, if it was the last thing I ever did, Starr, his lieutenants, and this whole perverted crowd would pay for what was being done here today. And the fact that I didn't even know this woman was inconsequential. No person-whether they be human, were, shifter, or whatever else there was-deserved to be treated like this.

Especially considering her only crime was trespa.s.sing. If she'd attempted to murder Starr, then maybe the brutality would be more understandable-still not acceptable, but at least understandable.

But there was no understanding this. It was just another pointer to the sickness of the mind controlling the cartel.

Eventually the creatures were sated and the woman dragged away. The announcer walked back onto the sand and introduced the next piece of entertainment-the evening's fight between two guards. I didn't watch any of it, just kept my gaze on the table.

If I looked up, caught Starr's gaze, he'd see the need to kill, and that could be disastrous when the whole point of the scene with the woman was to bring fear, and cow those of us who were new.

After the fight, guards approached several tables, including ours. Berna raised an eyebrow as a guard motioned me to stand.

"Hang on, I thought if we were naked, we had freedom of choice."

I snorted. "Unless the boss's lieutenants decide they like the look of us. Apparently, it's in the small print."

"I read the small print. I can't remember that."

"Exactly what I said." My gaze went to the blood-soaked sand near the pole. "But I guess they figure they can pretty much do what they want while we're here."

Her expression suggested disagreement, but her gaze Flicked to the camera and she didn't actually say anything. I followed the guard like the good little puppy I was pretending to be, but when he approached an elevator that wasn't on any plan I'd seen, I began to take a lot more interest. He shoved a key in the lock, then punched a code into the accompanying keypad, but his fingers were far too quick for me to see-let alone memorize-the numbers. The lift doors opened and I was waved inside.

Though there were six b.u.t.tons, only three had numbers. He punched sub-three and the doors closed. I casually looked up at the ceiling, checking for cameras and other security devices-particularly psychic deadeners. There was a security cam, which meant there was probably voice monitoring as well, but I couldn't see anything else. Not that that meant anything.

There was only one way to find out if I could do what I wanted to do. I lowered my shields a little, and felt for the guard's thoughts. His hunger and arousal hit like a club, and my body reacted as instinctively as ever. But below his hunger were his thoughts, and the ease with which I reached them surprised me. I would have thought anyone who knew the codes to any of Starr's private areas would have been either shielded or mind-blind.

Not that I was about to complain about the lack. I shuffled quickly but lightly through the guard's mind, picking up not only the code for the elevator, but general information like shift times and the fact that most of the security pool either visited the wh.o.r.es or played snooker in the bunkhouse when not on duty. There was also some interesting impressions about the guy who was the head of security-he was a tall, balding man with pock-marked skin. According to this guard, he was also an all-talk, no-skills f.u.c.kwit who liked taking the credit for other people's work. Which just might mean he was ripe for a little werewolf action- and mind-reading. As head of security, he'd surely know a whole lot more than this guard-and probably have access to the spare set of lift keys. If there was a spare set. This guard couldn't confirm that there was.

The elevator came to a stop. I withdrew from the guard's mind, re-shielding quickly as the doors swished open. Directly opposite was what I presumed was another elevator, this one not only secured by a key and keypad, but thumbprint scanner as well. The hallway to either side was long and silent, with the only source of light coming from the elevator itself and two solitary light strips down either end. Shadows haunted the s.p.a.ce in between, lending to the feeling of isolation.

"Mr. Moss waits for you down that end," the guard said, pointing to the left. He had his hand on the elevator door to prevent it from closing, which obviously meant he wasn't coming with me.

"What's down that end?" I pointed to the right.

"Mr. Merle."

"They don't share quarters, then?"

The guard snorted. "They don't share much at all."

I raised an eyebrow. "Even women?"

"Especially women." He motioned down the hall again. "You'd better move. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Tough was my instinctive response, but not one that was wise given my mission was to seduce first, raid mind second. So I nodded to the guard and headed off into the shadows. My footsteps echoed across the silence, a sharp tattoo of noise that rebounded eerily down the long hall. I'm sure the whole setup was meant to be scary-to induce that whole walking-into-the- shadowy-unknown fear.

And it might have worked had it not been for the fact that I'd faced far worse in the last four months. Shadows and the unknown were easy by comparison.

The small light above the metal door flicked to green as I approached, and the door slid open. The room beyond was surprisingly welcoming. A solitary light lit one corner or the large room, giving the golden walls an even richer hue but leaving the rest of the room to the shadows. The furnishings were a mix of oak wood and claret colored cushioning, and thick woolen rugs were scattered across the carpeted floor. A room that was comfortable and inviting was not something that I would have a.s.sociated with Moss, but then, what did I know about the man other than the fact he was a psychopath with a hot and heavy aura?

Moss wasn't in the room, but something was. His scent was obscure, oddly hinting at earth and air. I stopped just behind one of the thickly padded sofas and let my gaze roam until I pinned his vague shape in the shadows. Another spirit lizard. Like the other versions I'd seen, this one also had suckered ringers and toes, so there was definitely gecko in their DNA mix somewhere.

How "spirit" entered the equation was anyone's guess, but I figured it might have something to do with the fact that even in a room lit by the glow of a lamp, he was almost invisible.

Not that he was cloaking himself as a vampire might. He didn't need to. He was as naked as a newborn, and his skin was as black as the night. In the dusky light, he was little more than a black outline, a figure who had a basic shape but no distinct features. He didn't even have any noticeable type of genitalia-male or female-so why I kept thinking of it as a "he" I'm not sure. Maybe it was the shape of his face-there was something a little more masculine than feminine about it.

"So," I said brazenly, "what the h.e.l.l are you? The welcome wagon?"

His thin lips curved into a smile. His eyes were blue-all blue. No white, no black pupil, just a dark, almost midnight blue.

Pretty, but eerie. "Most first time visitors feel fear when they first see me. Second timers even more so."

I took the time to look him up and down again. "And what is there to fear?"

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Obviously." I let my gaze slide around the room. "Nice place-yours?"

He shook his head. "I am here to prepare you."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"s.e.x, of course."

My gaze jumped down his body. "With what?"

"With this." As he spoke, genitalia appeared, dropping down from inside of his body, finding shape and size between his legs. It was like watching a blow-up doll inflate and find form, only weirder.

"Interesting way to deal with the problem of getting kicked in the b.a.l.l.s," I noted dryly.

He smiled. As he did so, spines appeared along his c.o.c.k, flicking upright to reveal pointy ends.

"That," I added bluntly, "isn't coming anywhere near me."

"Yes, it is."

"You try, you die."

"You are here to do as you are told."

"No, I'm here to have s.e.x with Moss. If he hasn't got the equipment to do the deed himself, then that's tough. I'm not f.u.c.king a cactus just so he can get his rocks off."

The black creature raised an eyebrow, and I would have sworn there was amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes. Then all expression froze as his gaze moved beyond mine, and something inside me quailed.

"Interesting," a voice said from the behind. "You do not fear the creature and the damage it could do."

A cold sensation ran down my spine. For several heartbeats, I couldn't move, could barely even breathe.

I didn't know the voice, but I didn't really need to. Not when his evil seemed to permeate the room, sucking away all the good air, leaving only foul.

The black creature mightn't have induced fear, but the man who stood behind me certainly did.

Because that man was Deshon Starr.

Chapter Eight

I forced my feet to move, to turn around. Close up, Starr appeared even more inoffensive than he had from a distance, A weedy, nerdy type who looked as if he'd be more comfortable behind a desk and a computer rather than being the main power behind one of Melbourne's biggest crime cartels.

It was only when you met his gaze that you began to see the truth. There was no life in his eyes, no humanity. Just an endless arctic expanse of bloodshot blue.

Goose b.u.mps skated across my skin, yet deep inside, recognition twitched. Something about those eyes reminded me of someone. Just who, I couldn't quite remember. Not yet.

And yet, there was no one in my life who caused the reaction Starr had-and surely they would have, no matter what form they were wearing. I mean, the outer layer might change, but the soul inside remained the same. And it was the evil that was this man's soul I could feel.

So why was this happening now, and not when I was with whoever he was in my life?

Did the reason have something to do with what Dia had mentioned earlier-that my so-called p.u.b.erty was twisting and increasing my talents?

Like I needed that when I already had a drug running around in my system causing havoc.

Starr wasn't alone, and I thankfully averted my gaze. Anything was better than staring at evil incarnate for too long. The second man was Starr's other lieutenant, and Merle was every bit as impressive as he had been from a distance. I looked him up and down then raised an eyebrow. "Now, you I'd be willing to play with. Providing, of course, you have something resembling a regular d.i.c.k."

The words were barely out of my mouth when his aura hit, every bit as heated and will-withering as Moss's. Sweat beaded my skin and rolled down my back, and the low-down ache of desire became so fierce it was positively painful. His smile was all arrogance.

"If I wanted you, I would have you," he said, voice soft, flat, yet filled with the confidence of a man who always got what he wanted.

And with an aura like that, I guess he always did.

His gaze skidded down my body, and the desire burning the air increased, until it felt like every inch of my skin was being flayed alive. My knees buckled under the pressure, and my b.u.t.t hit the back of the sofa. It was the only reason I remained upright.

His gaze rose to mine again. "And I think I will."

He began to unbuckle his belt and I wasn't sure if it was antic.i.p.ation or fear that sent a tingle down my spine. h.e.l.l, the s.e.x part didn't worry me, nor did having an audience. It was just him. There was something inherently sick about him, something wholly off-center that made a deep-down part of me shiver away from the thought of having him inside. And yet, that foulness held none of the intensity I'd sensed in Moss. Merle was survivable. I doubted Moss was.

"Merle, put it away," Starr snapped, even though Merle hadn't actually gotten it out yet. Thankfully.

But the force of Merle's aura died at the order, as suddenly as a switch being flicked. There had to be were in his mix.

"Where's Moss?" Starr continued, his gaze not leaving mine even though his question was obviously aimed at the spirit lizard.

"Greeting the new guards. He will be here soon."

My heart leapt at the mention of new guards. Did that mean Rhoan had arrived? G.o.d, I hoped so. I needed to see him. Needed to talk to him. Get rea.s.surance and guidance and a great big hug.

"Tell him I wish to see him immediately on his return."

"Yes, sir."

Starr's gaze slid down my body. It wasn't a s.e.xual look, more the sort of look one boxer might give another right before their bout. When his gaze returned to mine, it hinted at recognition, and that was a whole different cla.s.s of scary.

"Do I know you?"

I resisted the urge to lick suddenly dry lips and shook my head. "Unless you've been up to Sydney recently. I've only been in Melbourne for a few days."

"So why do I feel this sense of familiarity?"

"I can't say, sir."

His thin lips curved into what I presumed was a half-smile-though it very easily could have been a half-sneer. "Respectful to those of obviously greater power. I like that."

Right now, I liked that he liked. Anything was better than him mulling over the fact that he knew me. Because if he knew me, I obviously knew him. And for safety's sake, I had better find out how before he did.

I didn't say anything, and he continued to study me. My stomach turned faster than a washing machine on spin cycle, and was threatening to rise at the slightest provocation. Which was weird, because I'd always figured when I finally confronted the man who had chased me, abused me, injected me with c.r.a.p, and tried to kill me, I'd feel anger-rage-more than anything else.

But I guess in imagining the whole scene, I'd forgotten one important point-Starr himself. Or rather, the fact that it had taken power, cunning, and sheer, b.l.o.o.d.y ruthlessness to take and hold control of the cartel.