Dead World 3, page 23
Morgan stepped back. “After what we’d witnessed the night before, I had to get Gina out of there as soon as possible. You would’ve done the same,” he said.
Demery laughed. “No, I wouldn’t, mon. I would never leave a man behind. Every soldier knows that. It’s the first thing you learn. Obviously you forgot, or maybe you were the type who saved his own hide and didn’t worry about your men.”
Morgan flinched. “You would if it meant your mate’s life,” he said. He’d already lost Gina once. It wouldn’t happen again. He had felt bad about leaving Demery, but he wouldn’t change a thing.
“Melea and I have a blood bond,” he said.
“True,” Morgan said, “but she’s not your mate or you wouldn’t have left her the first time.”
Demery’s expression sobered. “I guess we’ll never know, mon. Did you find what you were looking for here?” He nodded at the dome.
“Maybe,” Morgan said. He needed to know more about what happened before he shared information. For all he knew, Demery had come here to gather intel for the Sand Devils. “How did you escape?”
“Easy.” Demery grinned, flashing stained fangs. “I waited for Reaper to get bored with beating the shit out of me, then I grabbed Melea and ran. Of course by then, he’d already raped her repeatedly in front of me. Since we are blood, I got to share the experience with her.” He drew a pair of pants out of his pack and tossed them on the ground at Morgan’s feet—the back was covered in blood.
Morgan winced at the savagery.
“You ever experience anything like that in the war, Hunter? Know what watching and feeling something like that does to a man?” Demery’s face contorted with anguish that quickly morphed into rage.
“My cousin Kane, a man I loved like a brother, attacked and killed three women. I knew two of them personally. His intention was to go after Gina next and force her to be his mate. He would’ve used any means necessary, including rape, to get what he wanted. If it hadn’t been for Jesse Lindley, the owner of the water trader you were staying in, he would’ve succeeded. I found Gina beaten and lying on the floor with a sack shoved over her head.”
Morgan took a deep breath as he relived the nightmare.
“Jesse was an old wolf and was in even worse shape, since she’d fought Kane off. He killed her while she lay helpless in the emergency care center because he was angry that I’d claimed Gina as my mate. I didn’t see or feel any of these things happen, but I know how helpless I felt afterward. I imagine it was the same for you, not being able to help Melea.”
“As you can see,” Demery indicated to the pants, “it was so much more than a feeling. I experienced every thrust, every tear. I felt her disbelief, her fear, her horror, and eventually her disappointment in me.”
“I’m surprised you let him live,” Morgan said. He’d have killed the man, even if he died in the process.
“I didn’t have a choice. It was leave or die,” Demery said.
Morgan understood Demery’s outrage. No, he’d never been sexually assaulted, but he had been repeatedly violated at the genetic labs. His body had been subjected to extreme pain and psychological torture.
There were times Morgan had thought he wouldn’t live through it, but he had. And had come out the other side a changed man.
“Where is Melea?” he asked.
Demery indicated to the foothills in the distance. “I had to leave her against that outcropping of rocks. She was too exhausted to continue and my injuries prevented me from carrying her. That’s why I came here. I figured if you’d made it to the outpost, you would be able to help.”
“And if we hadn’t been here?” Morgan asked.
“Then I would’ve asked the guards for assistance,” Demery said.
Morgan glanced at the rocks and tried to gauge the distance. The wind moaned as it picked up sand, carrying it from dune to dune. “You left her unprotected? What if there’s a predator around?”
“She’s safe for now, but she won’t be if Reaper finds her.” Demery looked around, his gaze darting nervously over the sand.
He was right. They needed to get to her fast. “The guards reported that the Sand Devils were making their way around the mountains,” Morgan said.
“Reaper sent some of his men ahead to prepare the encampment south of here. While they were doing that, I saw my chance to escape and I took it.” Demery’s dark gaze dropped to the sand at his feet.
“So they’re not out looking for you?” he asked. “I find that hard to believe.” Morgan scanned the horizon for movement.
“They have scouts in the area, but the group has moved on,” he said.
Morgan glanced at the sun. It wasn’t getting any lower. If there was even a chance that what Demery was saying was the truth, then helping him was the least he could do after leaving him.
“We’d better get going,” Morgan said.
He debated for a moment whether to retrieve his pistol, but decided against it, since using the lift again might alert Gina. Besides, if Demery tried to pull anything, all Morgan had to do was grow a claw and rip a hole in his protective suit.
“Lead the way,” he said.
“Thank you.” Demery turned and wobbled.
Morgan’s hand shot, but stopped short of touching him. “Are you sure you’re up to making this trip?” he asked. “You can wait here. I can get Razor to come with me. Between the two of us, we should be able to carry Melea.”
Demery’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “You’ve left me little choice, mon. After what she’s been through, Melea’s unlikely to come to anyone but me. She knows to hide if she doesn’t see the white suit.”
Morgan’s hackles rose at his tone, but he let it slide, given what Demery’d been through. He owed him that much. Contrary to what the vamp thought, Morgan had never left a man behind before.
If the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t have in this case either, but it wasn’t all about him anymore. He had to keep Gina’s welfare upmost in mind. He’d noted the Sand Devil leader’s predatory gaze when it fell upon her.
It wasn’t a matter of if he acted, but a matter of when. And Morgan would die before he’d let Reaper lay a finger on his mate.
They made good time crossing the desert floor, despite Demery’s injuries. Within a couple of hours, they reached the outcropping of rocks. They were much smaller than they’d appeared in the distance. There weren’t many places to hide.
“Where is she?” Morgan inhaled in an attempt to catch Melea’s elusive feminine scent. The hot oppressive air refused to give up its secrets. He walked a few more paces ahead and looked around. “I don’t sense her presence.” Unease prickled Morgan’s scalp. He looked around and readied himself for a possible ambush.
“She’s over there, behind the cluster of boulders,” Demery said.
“I should be able to smell her by now,” Morgan said. “Especially if she’s injured.”
“She’s there.” Demery took the lead. “I cleaned her up the best I could. Can’t exactly have her running around smelling of blood, when I’m in this shape.”
Morgan followed, his senses alert. If this was a trap, as he was beginning to suspect, he needed to be ready. Claws sprung from his fingertips. He welcomed the pain.
“Melea,” Demery called out, then ducked behind a boulder.
Morgan frowned and approached cautiously. He still couldn’t detect her scent. He sniffed again, finally catching a faint musky odor.
Demery was still hunched over. “It’s okay, I’m here. You can come out now,” he said.
Morgan waited.
When Demery straightened, he had a scarf in his hands. Morgan recognized it as being one that Melea had worn. His muscles relaxed and his claws retracted.
Morgan thought getting him out here had been a ruse, when he’d been unable to smell her. Had been expecting one, which was why he hadn’t wanted Gina to come along. He was relieved to be proven wrong.
“You know what I love about wolves?” Demery laughed.
He shook his head. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” Morgan’s unease came back in an instant, along with his claws.
“It’s that they rely on their sense of smell and ignore what’s right in front of them.” Demery turned and the scarf floated to the ground.
Morgan didn’t register the laser pistol in the vamp’s hands until it was too late. The shot rang out, catching him in the chest, knocking him onto the rocks. His skin burned as if a torch had been taken to it.
Gina... He’d lost her for good this time.
Morgan glanced down, expecting to see a gaping hole where his heart had been. Instead of a fatal wound, his skin reddened and continued to burn. A stun blast. The son of a bitch had hit him with a stun blast. Morgan’s body stiffened and a wave of pain rolled over him, then he felt nothing at all.
Chapter 28
Demery unzipped a pouch in his suit and pulled out a short-range comdevice. “It’s done,” he said. “Come and get your pet.”
He put the comdevice away, then picked up the shackles the Sand Devils had left for him. He shoved his blood’s scarf into his pocket, then went to work.
Within a few minutes, he had a collar around Morgan’s neck and his limbs bound. He’d removed his shirt and replaced it with a long silver chain, which fastened at his neck and ran to his waist.
Demery tugged at it, testing the leash’s strength. It clanged, but otherwise stayed strong. Perfect for leading the wolf around. If Reaper wanted a pet to bleed for sport, then he’d damn well give him one.
The Sand Devils arrived quickly. Morgan was still out and would remain so for at least another hour, since he’d hit him at such close proximity.
“I’ve done as promised, mon. Now give me my blood and let me be on my way,” he said with more authority than he felt.
Reaper signaled to someone at the back of the caravan. Melea was shoved out of one of the vehicles. She ran toward Demery on shaky legs. Before she could get to him, Reaper snatched her by her braids, stopping her.
“We had an agreement,” Demery said, between clenched fangs.
“I will keep my end of the bargain, but not until I’m sure that Other blood runs through his veins.” A fat finger pointed at Morgan’s unconscious body. It was followed by a swift kick to the ribs.
Morgan moaned, but did not wake.
“I gave you my word,” Demery said.
“And look where it got me,” Reaper said.
Demery growled in frustration. “I had no control over their actions,” he said.
“Maybe that’s true. Or maybe you helped them get away.” He shrugged. “Your word doesn’t mean much around here. You gave me your word before and you ran off to live on the other side of the boundary fence. If I hadn’t taken care of your blood, she would’ve perished.” Reaper cupped Melea’s ample breast until she cried out in pain.
Demery shook with fury, his gaze locked on Reaper’s hand. “I didn’t leave her. I went in search of what you wanted. You said specifically that you’d only accept wolf’s blood in exchange for Melea,” he said. “Here’s your wolf.” He toed Morgan.
“If that’s true, then our trade will be complete,” Reaper said. “But if you’ve double-crossed me again, I will pass your woman around to every man while you experience her pain. Then I’ll bleed her slowly in front of you and watch you thirst to death.”
Melea’s mocha skin paled at the threat. Blood roared in Demery’s head, deafening him to everything but his rage.
“Or maybe if the wolf doesn’t suit me, I’ll have you take his place,” Reaper said.
“Taste him and be done with it,” Demery snarled. All this talk about blood and violence was making him hungry. “Stop wasting time.”
“You forget your place.” Reaper shoved Melea behind him and stood nose to sun shield with Demery. “I will taste the wolf, but not here.” He glanced around at the mountains like he expected an ambush. “Let’s move this to the encampment.”
“How long will it take to get there?” Demery prayed it wasn’t too long. He didn’t think he’d make it much farther without blood.
“A few hours. Now pick him up and put him in that vehicle. We don’t have all day. Just looking at him makes me thirsty.” Reaper laughed. “But I don’t have to tell you about the thirst. Do I?”
He walked toward a metal monstrosity that resembled a steel armadillo, leaving Demery to follow. Reaper jumped in the passenger side and pulled Melea onto his lap. He went back to stroking her breasts, all but daring Demery to stop him.
Melea stared straight ahead, her brown eyes wide and unfocused. He’d seen that look before in the eyes of soldiers who’d experienced heavy combat. Given time she might recover from the trauma. Demery looked closer at her vacant expression. Then again, she might not.
Demery bit the inside of his mouth and tasted blood. He swallowed it, praying it would keep him going until he could feed properly and get Melea away from this madman.
The ride to the Sand Devil encampment took awhile. In the distance, he could see the outpost where he’d found Morgan. Demery was grateful that Red hadn’t come out to meet him. He wasn’t convinced he would’ve been able to go through with the plan and lie to her face as easily as he’d done to Morgan.
He glanced down at the sleeping wolf, who’d been dumped onto the vehicle floor. Morgan was snoring loudly, which was a side effect of the stun.
The collar around his neck had already begun to blister his skin. When Reaper finished with him, he’d be raw. Demery didn’t envy him that, but Morgan had brought it on himself.
In the beginning, Demery hadn’t intended to exchange any of them for Melea, but he had hoped to bargain for her using some of their blood. He’d almost worked out a deal when Morgan and Red left him. Reaper’s fury had changed his mind.
The healing had been slow going. Demery still ached, but not as bad as a couple of days ago. Soon he and Melea would be out of here and they’d leave this nightmare behind.
They hit a rock and Morgan groaned.
When the wolf did come around, he’d have one hell of a hangover, but the pain in his head would be nothing compared to what Reaper would do. The barbarian wanted the blood of an Other.
Demery had made the mistake of bartering his own blood when he’d first come to trade with the Sand Devils. It hadn’t taken long for Reaper to discover the advantages of drinking an Other’s blood. Soon he had added strength and speed without any of the drawbacks. Eventually Demery’s blood wasn’t enough. Reaper wanted more and greater variety to feed his unquenchable thirst.
He’d barely escaped with his life. Demery hadn’t been able to save Melea. She would’ve slowed him down. Like a coward, he’d had her deliver a message, saying he’d return with a wolf, then left her with these animals. What survived was a shell of the original woman.
As many times as he imagined different scenarios, he’d do it again if it meant the difference between her life and his. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but it was the truth.
They made it to the Sand Devil camp, which consisted mainly of lean-tos and tin shacks. Two men removed Morgan from the vehicle and chained him to a metal spike that had been driven deep into the ground. His arms were pulled out to his sides to form a macabre cross. It wouldn’t take long for his lips to crack and his skin to burn.
Demery watched as he came around. Morgan’s head shot up and his amber gaze locked on him. A growl sounded deep within his throat, both promise and threat, then he yanked on the chains. They clanged loudly, but held.
“You have no one to blame but yourself,” Demery said, brushing aside any second thoughts when Melea slid off Reaper’s lap.
Morgan’s eyes drilled him in place. “You will regret this, vampire,” he said, his voice guttural. “These chains will not protect you.”
“It won’t do you any good to shift. Those chains are silver laced with steel and that post is sunk six feet into the ground,” Reaper said. “You can’t break them.” He shoved Melea toward Demery, then drew a large knife from the sheath at his thigh and approached Morgan. “This will hurt.” He sliced him across the chest. A line of red appeared as his skin opened and blood dripped.
Morgan flinched, but didn’t make a sound. His gaze remained on Demery.
“Someone get me a cup,” Reaper shouted.
One of the Sand Devils rushed forward.
Reaper pressed the cup below the wound and waited for the blood to fill it. He applied pressure to hurry the process along. When the crimson liquid neared the top, Reaper brought the cup to his lips and drank.
Blood spilled out of the sides of the cup and down his face as he swallowed greedily.
His lips smacked when he’d finished. “Ah,” he said. “He’ll do nicely.” Reaper pressed the cup back to Morgan’s chest, working the wound once more, then turned to Demery. Crimson sloshed over the sides, spilling onto the ground. “Care for a taste?”
Morgan trembled in anger and his muscles tensed, which only made him bleed more. His taut abdomen was now slick with blood. The sweet coppery aroma filled the air.
Demery’s mouth watered. He could smell the blood through his protective suit’s air filter. It enticed him, lured him closer, when he knew he should stay where he was. He had Melea back. This was what he wanted. The smart thing to do was go. If they left now, they could be over the mountains by tomorrow night.
Reaper waved the cup under his face shield. “I know you want some,” he said. “You’re practically drooling.”
Demery’s eyes followed the liquid’s swirling movements, mesmerized by the ebb and flow. He was so hungry. His mouth watered and his fangs extended.
“Blood, let’s leave,” Melea pleaded, tugging on his arm.
He looked into her ashen face. Abuse at the hands of Reaper had faded her natural beauty. “We will soon.” Demery brushed his gloved hand over her cheek. “I promise.”
She shook her head. “No, let’s go now. I’ll feed you. You don’t need this blood.” Tears welled in Melea’s eyes.
She was right. They should leave immediately. But it had been days since he’d fed. His body ached from the hunger. Demery was too weak to go far. He’d never make it over the mountains.
