Riley Jensen 03 - Tempting Evil Part 26

I stopped. The elevator doors closed and darkness settled in. I didn't bother switching to infrared. Moss's and Merle's inherent corruption stung the air, and though their scents paled compared to the man in front of us, the smell of them was still so thick and foul it quickly seemed to clog my throat. I certainly didn't need to see them to know where they were.

The doors to the second elevator swished open. Starr stepped inside and we followed. It wasn't a tight squeeze and yet, as the doors slid closed again, panic surged. Suddenly I felt caged. Trapped.

Sweat began to trickle down my forehead. I licked my lips and tried to get a grip. I'd been in far worse situations-though right now, I was hard pressed to think of one of them.

I glanced around. Met Merle's gaze, and saw the heat there. Iktar was right-Merle hadn't yet finished with me. I wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad about that, though he was definitely the safer option of the two hetero men. The vibes I was picking up from Moss suggested anger-deep anger-over the events of the previous night.

I swiped at the moisture running down my hairline and silently prayed Starr would either open the second door or get this elevator moving.

He did the former rather than the latter, and as the metal doors swished open, I got my first glimpse of the room beyond. It was like stepping back into time and coming out in the Middle Ages, in one of those vast, lush banquet halls so often seen in movies.

A large wooden table, complete with rough hewn, high backed wooden chairs, dominated the far end, and behind that, lush wall hangings that depicted images of beauty and brutality. The rest of the concrete walls were brown, painted so that they resembled wood planking. A small arena of sorts lay in the middle of the room, though its base was rushes rather than the sand of the bigger arena upstairs. Scattered cushions and heavily padded benches were strewn haphazardly around the rest of the room. Heavy metal sconces lined the painted walls, these so laden with wax it was easy to believe centuries of candlesticks might have burned there. The candles were the only source of light, and the flickering amber glow added to the brooding, old style atmosphere.

It should have been inviting, if perhaps a little mysterious, but it was neither. The smell of death rode the air and, as my gaze skirted the room, the faces of those who had died here seemed to step out of the shadows, filling me with their despair, their anger.

I stumbled under the weight of it, and would have fallen if Merle hadn't grabbed my arm. The sick heat of him ran across my skin, overrunning all other sensation. When I looked up, the wraiths had gone. Maybe they were never there. Maybe it was just my imagination, my fear.Maybe.

I swallowed heavily and wrenched my arm from Merle's grasp. He chuckled, a heavy sound that itched at my skin. "You won't be pulling away like that later. You'll be begging."

"Yeah, that you've somehow learned some technique overnight." The words were out before I could stop them, and Merle's face darkened. Even more so when Moss chuckled softly.

"The wolf has s.p.u.n.k," he said. "Perhaps I might have to steal her back. Sounds as if she'd appreciate a man with a little more style."

"What I have claimed you cannot have," Merle growled. "You had your opportunity. You were too busy looking for new talent in the recruits."

Moss's face went red, and little veins began to stand out in his forehead. "I am not the a.s.s-lover amongst us-"

"No," Starr interrupted calmly, "I am. And if you two can't shut up, kindly remember that I am not overly fussy about my partners being willing and that I am more than ready to try someone I have until now considered off-limits."

As threats went, it was pretty darn efficient. The two men continued to scowl at each other, but otherwise fell silent. But they'd obviously been around Starr a long time, and would have had plenty of firsthand experience about how ugly he could get. And how far he would go.

Starr walked across to the table and took the middle seat. Moss headed left, while Merle motioned me to the right. Lucky me got to sit between death and his right-hand man. Not a place someone with a stomach as fragile as mine was feeling right now should really be.

As I pulled the chair up closer to the table, I looked up at the ceiling then around the walls again. There were no monitors to be seen, but there were guards hiding in the shadows. Surprisingly, there weren't Iktar's kin, but gray things with scaly skin and human extremities. They were armed-candlelight flickered across the barrels of the guns they held inhumanly still.

And they were watching me with that same unnerving stillness. One wrong move, one nod from Starr, and I was one splattered puppy, of that I had no doubt.

Starr clapped his hands, the sudden sound making me jump. Well-built men wearing skimpy thongs and little else appeared, all carrying either wine or food. It was a decadence I would normally have enjoyed, except for the fact Starr was so close. He watched them appreciatively for several seconds, then turned in his seat so he could look at me. And he wasn't looking at me appreciatively-far from it.

A chill ran down my spine. This man suspected I was not who I was pretending to be, and I had no idea why.

"So tell me a little more about yourself."

I shrugged, wishing like h.e.l.l I had a coffee to hang on to, and yet at the same time, glad I didn't. My hands were trembling so much I probably would have scalded myself. "I'm sure you've read my file."

"I have, but it's all dry details. I'm sure there is more to you than that."

"And I a.s.sure you, there's not." I shoved my hands under my knees and let my gaze drift to the nearest waiter. I just couldn't look at Starr for very long without my stomach turning at the vileness of his aura. At the deadness in his eyes. "The life of a thief is not very exciting."

"These people you stole the jewelry off-Jamieson was their name, wasn't it?" I shrugged again, and did my best to ignore the sick trembling in my limbs. Sitting on my hands helped them, but it didn't do much for the rest of me. "I have no idea. I don't study the people before a job. I just study the house."

"And the jewels? Who was your fence?"

f.u.c.ked if I knew. If it had been in the files, then I'd managed to skip that section of it. I glanced at him briefly. "Who said I've fenced them yet? Maybe they're a little too hot right now."

He grinned. He had an awful lot of teeth, many of them pointy. And not just the canines. "A nice safe answer."

"The truth always is." I thanked a dark skinned man as he placed a platter of meats and bread in front of me. His gaze met mine, and the warm brown depths were haunted. This man might not be physically dead, but deep down where it really counted, only ice existed. Everything else had been ripped away by the perversity of the man beside me.

I blinked at the sudden insight, and had to clench my hands against the urge to reach out and touch him-rea.s.sure him-either physically or psychically. There was nothing I could do tor this man, nothing I could do for the others in this room. Nothing other than destroy the foul thing who had ripped away their self-respect. Their humanity.

"But how do I know you are telling the truth?" Starr said.

My nerves were so bad I jumped at the sudden sound of his voice.

"You don't." I reached forward and plucked a slice of beef from the platter. "I don't have the jewels with me, so there is no way I can prove anything right now."

The beef was b.u.t.ter-tender, but it tasted as dry as sawdust. I swallowed with some difficulty, and reached for a gla.s.s of wine to wash the taste away.

"How very true. Unless, of course, you have a psychic at your disposal."

He clapped his hands a second time. The elevator doors slid open, revealing Dia and a guard. At least she hadn't lied about that. Which maybe meant she was playing this whole thing completely straight. Maybe it was just my suspicious nature suggesting otherwise.

She stopped in front of the table. Her stance was neither compliant or aggressive, but somewhere between the two. "You called for me?"

She wasn't looking at me, wasn't looking at anyone except Starr. Never turn your back on a tiger snake in mating season, my brother had once warned me. Obviously, someone had told Dia the same thing.

"I want you to read this woman." Starr's hand came down on my forearm. It was only a brief touch, but even so, his flesh burned mine, leaving red marks long after his fingers had gone.

Dia nodded and glanced at me. Despite her stance, her expression was serene, businesslike. "Hold out your hand."

Given I had little other choice, I obeyed. Her cool fingers wrapped around mine, and electricity leapt from her fingers to mine, tingling warmly across my skin. Something flickered in her unseeing eyes, and just for a moment, there was a tightening around her eyes and mouth. What that meant I had no idea, but I sure as h.e.l.l planned to ask her later.

"I see much anger in this one." She hesitated. "She has already fought with several of the women. She will fight with others before her time here is over. Rebellion is part of her nature."

"A given, seeing she's here as an arena wh.o.r.e," Starr snapped. "Tell me who and what she is."Tension ran through me. If his instincts were suggesting I was a fake, why wasn't he just getting rid of me? Doing this made no sense. But then, when did psychos ever play by the rules of the sane?

Dia's finger's briefly tightened against mine, as if in rea.s.surance, then she said, "She is a wolf who has been rejected by kin. She has fought to survive, and will continue to fight through the many life changes that are on the horizon. Her path will not be easy."

"The who, Dia. Stop hedging."

Dia hesitated, and for a moment I was so sure she was going to give me up that my heart lodged somewhere in my throat and every muscle twitched with readiness to leap from the chair.

"She is who she says she is," Dia said softly. "A no-good lying thief. Lock up your valuables, Merle. She has already noted the gold watch resting on your side table."

Starr laughed. It was an uncomfortable sound that itched at my ears. "Then the thief has taste problems. That watch is gaudiness at its worse."

"But it would have a good street value." Dia dropped my hand and stepped back. With her touch gone, the tingling sensation of electricity quickly died. I wasn't sure whether to be happy or sorry about that. At least her touch offered warmth in a room that was so, so cold.

She rubbed her forehead wearily and looked at Starr. "Is that all?"

"For now. I will have my reading later. After we go for our little walk."

Though her expression didn't change, a wave of anger and hatred rolled across my skin, drowning my senses for too many seconds. Dia wasn't playing games-not with me, anyway. And she would do anything to get her child free and destroy this man.

She nodded and walked back to the door. Once she'd gone, Starr looked my way. "Perhaps we should have some entertainment while we eat?"

Though it was phrased as a question, he didn't wait for an answer, simply clapped his hands again. Talk about taking the role of a king to the extreme. The curtains on the door to our left swept open and two men entered. The first was a black giant, so tall he had to bend almost at the waist to get through the doorway. And he was big width-wise, too, with hands and feet the size of paddles, thighs thick enough to support a jetty, and shoulders that just seemed endless. Unfortunately, the old saying of big hands, big d.i.c.k didn't apply here. My thumb would have been bigger than his appendage. Maybe that was the reason for all the muscles-maybe he got tired of the jokes.

The second man, though not small, almost seemed dwarfed by comparison. He was lean but muscular, a man who walked light and with understated power, like that of a predator on the hunt. His brown skin glowed like dark honey in the subdued lighting, and his expression was that of a man confident in his own strength, his own power... Shock rolled through me as he drew closer.

This wasn't a stranger. It was my brother.

My stomach sunk to a new low, and fear-sick fear-ran through me. Why was he here? Was it merely a coincidence, or did Starr suspect not only who I was, but who Rhoan was? If so, how? Who was this man in our lives that he suspected us instantly?

And if he did suspect us, why the h.e.l.l was he stringing this out?

Did he want to see how far he could push it before we broke cover?I tore my gaze away from Rhoan to look at Starr. The hints of self-satisfaction and antic.i.p.ation in his expression suggested the answer to that particular question was yes. He intended to push and push and push until one of us broke and admitted the truth he suspected. Which meant, from here on in, we would be totally supervised.

Or maybe we had always been supervised. Maybe that was the only reason Moss had made his appearance in the forest in the first place.

We had to get out. Somehow, we had to get out of here. The mission and revenge and jack's plans could be d.a.m.ned. None of those were worth the weight of Rhoan's death or mine.

My gaze went back to my brother as he and the giant walked closer. Sitting there, doing nothing, holding in my reaction, my dread, was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life. I'd been trained to fight and defend, not sit around and role-play. And while I could sometimes act with the best of them, this was different. This was our lives. And I was afraid that I would be the first to give something away, that I'd betray Rhoan and get us both killed.

My brother stepped out of the giant's shadow, and his gaze met mine briefly. Though his expression didn't flicker, I felt his unease like it was my own. Rhoan might be mind-blind, and therefore unreadable via psychic means, but that had never stopped me from sensing his presence or knowing what he was feeling. Or him sensing the same in me. We were twins. Our bond went deeper than mere flesh and bone and mind. We were two halves of a whole.

And any man who took me on as a life-mate would have to accept that my brother would always be an intense part of my life.

Though that would only matter if we both survived this h.e.l.lhole.

The two of them stopped in front of the table, but only the black man bowed. Now that he was closer, I could see the scars littering his arms, chest, and stomach. This man was a veteran of the arena. Which, in turn, meant he was an extremely good fighter.

So was my brother, but this giant had the advantage of reach and sheer d.a.m.n size. And those would matter, as Rhoan couldn't afford to use his vampire-gifted strengths. He had to play it strictly as a wolf.

I pushed my plate away and leaned back in my seat. If I ate any more I'd lose my stomach. Which might delay things for a minute or two, but not stop. The gleam in Starr's eyes suggested nothing short of his death would stop this game unfolding.

And if not for the guns trained on me, and the closeness of Merle, I might have considered that option.

Starr looked at me, eyebrow raised. "Lost your appet.i.te for any reason, my dear?"

"Yeah. I saw your idea of entertainment last night. I'm not up to seeing someone else beaten up and then b.u.t.t-f.u.c.ked until they're almost dead." I let my gaze roll down the giant's body. "Though one of them doesn't look as if he's got a d.i.c.k, let alone spines."

The giant snarled, and Starr laughed. "Perhaps I should let him show you just how well a little man can use his weapon."

I met Starr's gaze evenly. "You let him anywhere near me, and I'll kick him in his unseen goolies, bring him back to a manageable height, then take him out."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression mocking. "I know wolves-or even part wolves-are strong, but are you seriously trying to tell me you think you could take the giant out?"

"Have you ever been kicked in the goolies?"

"No, but-"

"Would you like to be? Just to experience how well it can nullify a man?"He laughed again. The sound sent another round of chills down my spine. "You have att.i.tude. I like that."

So if he was liking it so much, why was he looking at me like a cat who'd just spotted a tasty mouse? And why did all the sickos of this world always have to look at me like that? First Gautier, now Starr. Or was it simply an inherited look? After all, they did share the same gene pool, even if Gautier was conceived in a tube and Starr in the womb.

"Would you like to fight him, then?"

"I may have a big mouth, but I am not a fool." Sarcasm edged my voice. "So no. Especially when he's been warned of my intentions."

"Shame." Starr glanced at the two men. "Proceed."

And just like that, the fight began. The black giant was fast, his huge fists a blur of power that could easily have smashed Rhoan across the room if they'd gotten anywhere near him. Which they didn't. Even relying only on wolf skills, my brother was fast enough to avoid the blows. He wasn't replying with any of his own just yet, merely sitting back, watching the giant and biding his time.

A tingle ran across my skin, and I knew without looking that Starr was watching me again. I forced myself to lean back, to pretend disinterest when all I wanted to do was cheer Rhoan on. I picked up my gla.s.s, and slowly sipped at the cool, bitter wine. Or maybe it was sweet, and it was just my taste buds that were off, frozen by the fear that was continuously building deep inside. "If this is your idea of breakfast entertainment, I sure as h.e.l.l don't want a dinner invitation."

"If I want you here, you will be here." Starr's voice was mild, and yet still managed to be menacing. "Just as if I wanted you to watch that fight, you would."

I looked at him. "Short of hog-tying me and forcing my eyelids open, that's not possible."

"Anything is possible when you put your mind to it, my dear."

Even as he said the words, a scratchy, burning tingle began to buzz the edges of my thoughts and his bloodshot gaze seemed to grow, until it consumed my entire vision.

He was trying to get a mind-lock on me, trying to read me.

I threw as much energy as I could into my mind-shields, and tried to ignore the terror threatening to swamp me. Luckily, he wasn't a vampire, and wouldn't hear the rapid pounding of my pulse. But he-or the man who'd taken over Starr's ident.i.ty- was a wolf. And he would smell my fear, if nothing else.

But maybe that was a good thing. Only a fool wouldn't be afraid in this sort of situation, no matter how big a front they were putting on.

The buzzing got stronger, sending tiny reverberations of sick-feeling energy down my spine. Under normal circ.u.mstances I wouldn't have worried-I worked with vampires, and knew from experience they couldn't break my barriers. But this situation-and this man-wasn't normal by any standards. I had no idea if my shields were strong enough to stand up to such a concerted a.s.sault, simply because I'd never really been tested that way. Gautier tried just about every time he saw me, but it was almost a habit these days-something he did more to p.i.s.s me off. He didn't have the strength of mind to get past my shields and we both knew it.

Starr, however, was an entirely different matter.

The a.s.sault continued to grow, until my entire body seemed to hum with the force of his energy. It was a horrible sensation- like having my hand wrapped around an electric fence, only the energy flowing through muscle and nerve was fetid rather than clean. Sweat began to dribble down my hairline, and deep behind my eyes, an ache began.A grunt broke the tableau, and a second later, the giant crashed into the table, his head hitting the wood with a sharp crack as his flailing arms sent gla.s.s and plates flying.

Starr cursed, his chair crashing backward as he jumped up to avoid the red wine, food, and shards of gla.s.s. The buzz of energy snapped away, the shock of it making me gasp softly. My gaze met Rhoan's. He raised an eyebrow, and I nodded, just enough to let him know I was okay.

For now, at least.

The giant righted himself, and with a roar, charged back into the fight. Rhoan sidestepped neatly and gave the giant a pa.s.sing punch for his troubles. That punch sent the giant flailing again. I frowned, hoping like h.e.l.l my brother didn't use his vampire strength too much.

"For a scrawny piece of wolf, he sure has some power in him," Merle drawled. "There's not many who could throw Middy like that."

"No." Starr wiped spots of red from his shirt, then righted his chair and sat back down. Surprisingly, no one came running to clean up all the mess. Not until Starr clicked his fingers, anyway. As the loin-clothed waiters hurried to the table, Starr continued, "Hasn't he had military training, though?"

"Yeah, but I haven't seen many military men move like that wolf moves."