And when she heard a roar, pain-filled and broken, echoing in every direction, she wanted to vomit. That had been Nicolai’s voice. What the hell were the giants doing to him?
Then the sound cut off abruptly, and she found the silence was even more disturbing than the roar. Had the giants just…killed— No! No, no, no. But what if…?
Oh, God. A sob caught in her throat. If he lived, he would have come for her.
She was his, he’d said so. Many times. And somehow, he was hers. She barely knew the man but she felt something deep and inexorable for him.
Only minutes before, she’d thought her heart and soul safe from his appeal, her mind too concerned with the danger to him. Now, as she was dragged to the unknown, death a possibility, when she thought him dead, the truth hit her.
Her heart and soul had never been safe.
Nicolai fascinated her. He was bossy and arrogant, yet protective when it mattered. He was a killer with a lover’s hands. In his arms, she’d come alive, had been utterly undone. He was already a part of her. In her blood, her head, her everything. So, no. No, no, no. He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t be.
Whatever had been done to him, he would heal. He had to heal. His roar had probably cut off because he’d passed out or something. Yes, that was it. And since he healed when he slept, that was a good thing.
Right?
The beast had to duck to enter one of the caverns, and she forced herself to concentrate. The hallways were narrow, suffocating. Footsteps echoed as he marched, creating a symphony of terror in her mind. She attempted to memorize the path he took, but it was difficult. So many turns, so dizzying. Alice’s rabbit hole, she thought with a humorless laugh.
Finally they reached a spacious chamber bursting with more of those winged giants. Murmurs of approval abounded the moment she was spotted, and those approvals swiftly mutated into lusty catcalls. Growling, stiff with anger, Ugh-O tossed her atop a pallet in the center.
Jane scrambled to her feet. More waves of dizziness accompanied the action, and she swayed. When her vision cleared, she spun in a circle, studying her new surroundings. A throne of glittering crystal grew directly from the wall. That throne would have made a majestic sight, if not for the bare-chested maniac seated on top of it.
His nose was so far out of place, the left side rested against his cheek. One of his eyes was missing, and there was a hole in his bottom lip, as if one of his saber teeth had punched right through. His chest was a mass of scars, like slices of roast beef that had been glued together—but the glue hadn’t held.
At least twenty others stood beside him, guarding him. All eyes were on her, bright red lasers she couldn’t escape. Sweat dripped between her breasts, even as her blood chilled. Not one of these creatures would aid her. They all wanted, and expected, a turn.
In fact, only two people in the room were uninterested in her presence. The only other females. Both were naked, old and wrinkled, unwashed, with straggly hair and dead eyes. They’d been well used, multiple times, and were covered in bite marks and bruises. No wonder these guys were so hot for the repulsive “Odette.”
Footsteps behind her caused her to spin. More dizziness, intent on lingering. Only when it passed did she realize these were the men who had attacked Nicolai. They were bloody, limping, missing a few body parts and barely breathing, but they were here.
“Where’s my vampire?” she screeched.
Ignoring her, they fell before their king. “Vampire disappear.”
He’d disappeared. That meant he was alive. Thank God. Oh, thank God.
“No fresh meat?” the king asked, speaking up for the first time.
“No fresh meat.”
A rumble of angry muttering sprung from the sovereign, and he waved his fingers toward the men. Four other giants stepped forward, palming swords and swinging before Jane could compute what was going on. Heads rolled, stopping at her feet.
She hunched over and finally vomited. No, not vomited. She dry heaved. There was nothing in her stomach. Laughter and applause abounded as the bodies were gathered up.
“Fresh meat now. Cook,” the king said with a nod of approval. “We dine.”
They were going to eat their own kind. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. She straightened, preparing to run.
Ugh-O settled a hard hand on her shoulder, ending her escape attempt before she’d taken a single step. “I found. I get.”
The king lost his good humor and frowned. “I give you my hag.” He motioned toward one of the old women. The hag in question stepped forward automatically and bowed. “Now give me yours.”
“No. I want the fat one.”
Hisses abounded.
Telling the king no was a crime, she supposed. “Fight,” she suggested, her voice trembling as much as her body. “Fight over me. Winner gets me.” Fingers crossed they killed each other.
That dark frown leveled on her. “Fight, yes. After.” He crooked his finger at her, expecting her to close the distance between them.
After. There was that word again. Gulping, she shook her head. Ugh-O squeezed her shoulder harder, harder still, and she winced.
“Come,” the king demanded, speaking more sharply now. He waved her over, and if she wasn’t mistaken, next waved to his crotch. As if he expected her to jump on board right here, right now.
He probably did. She’d heard the unspoken Or else, and rallied her wits. Come on. I can do this. “Take me to your bedchamber.” Never in her life had Jane attempted to seduce someone who repulsed her, and she mentally cringed at the huskiness of her tone. Better she fight this man alone than with all his people watching—and able to join in. “I’ll do things you’ve only dreamed about.” If your dreams involve strangling on your own intestines.
“Just want your mouth on cock.”
I would rather die. “And I want to put my mouth on your cock.” Lightning, strike me down. Please. “So let’s go to your bedchamber. Because, and here’s the kicker, I do my best work in private.”
He was on his feet in an instant, stalking toward her.
CHAPTER TEN
NICOLAI’S HEAD WAS a seething cauldron of thoughts, his body a tuning fork of emotion. One moment he’d been fighting the giants, protecting Jane, the next he was shouting in pain, unable to control the turmoil in his mind. Faces, so many faces. Voices, so many voices.
Clutching at his ears, he fell to his knees. The jarring helped. The faces faded and the voices quieted, allowing rational thought to form. Had to…protect… Jane…again… But when he pried his eyelids apart, he saw that the giants were gone.
So was Jane.
He was no longer near the river, no longer in the forest. A barren wasteland surrounded him. What trees he saw were gnarled, their leaves withered. Ash floated in an acidic wind, black snow scented with death and destruction. And he smelled something…rotting.
He recognized nothing.
He turned, saw a snakelike vine slither from one of the trees, then another, both headed in his direction. They dove for him, bit at him and, when they tasted his blood, seemed to cackle with glee. When they dove a second time, he jumped out of the way—and onto a pile of bones.
A need to slay the Blood Sorcerer, the new king of Elden, filled him, consumed him entirely. Was the bastard nearby? If so, this wasteland was Elden. Had to be. Elden. Elden. The word reverberated in his head. And just like that, the faces returned to his mind, forcing their way to the surface of a man somehow unprepared for them. Faces, blurring together, becoming one. A scene built.