Do nothing, Disaster finished with a laugh.
It stung all the worse because Kane could only remain crumpled on the floor.
“Bring her back to me,” he shouted to Strider.
Moaning in agony, the warrior toppled to the floor. He’d just been bested by a puny little girl; his demon would be throwing out pain for the next several days.
“Go!” Kane commanded Sabin.
“No. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Go!” he insisted. “Bring her back.”
“Yelling at me isn’t going to change my mind.”
Kane tried to crawl to the door, but dizziness crowded into his mind, stopping him. He spit out a mouthful of curses.
Could nothing go right for him? Not even once?
Disaster started laughing all over again.
CHAPTER THREE
The Realm of Blood and Shadows
A week later
KANE ROSE FROM the king-size bed and padded to his private bathroom. Already naked, he stepped into the shower. Hot water beat against newly healed skin, all the bruises and scabs finally gone. And yet, his muscles had yet to unknot.
The fury he’d experienced at the loss of his rescuer had yet to fade, and hatred for Disaster was a constant burn in his chest. And his memories...they were the worst.
They came during the day. They came during the night. He could be lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and all of a sudden he would be transported back to hell, his wrists and ankles bound. He could be in the shower, like now, with the water raining over him, and all of a sudden he would see the dirt, blood and...other things once caked on his skin, and no amount of scrubbing would make him clean.
He was pretty sure the wires in his brain had gotten cut during his torture. And as he’d healed physically, those wires had been reattached in the wrong places. Darkness had become a perfume that constantly wafted from his pores. Hungry anger now simmered inside him, desperate for a target.
No one was safe.
He’d lost his appetite. He could no longer sleep. Sudden noises made him scramble for a weapon.
Once, he’d rolled with the punches life threw at him. Once, he’d been a softer, nicer guy. Now, there would be no more rolling. Now, he was a raging bull, at times too violent to contain. Any wrong was punished immediately—no one would ever think him weak enough to challenge again.
The shambles of his room proved it.
He soaped up, rinsed off and towel dried, every action stiff, forced. Standing in front of the mirror, he studied his foggy reflection. His skin was pale. Dark hair dripped water down his shoulders and chest. Because of the weight he’d lost, his cheeks had yet to fill out. His lips were compressed into a thin line, as though they’d never known a smile. Maybe they hadn’t. Any memory with an accompaniment of amusement no longer seemed to belong to him. Everything positive had happened to someone else. Surely.
But the worst thing about him? His eyes were no longer a mix of brown and green. They were a mix of brown, green—and red. Demon red.
A sense of repugnance grew. Disaster was attempting to control him. And the demon was actually succeeding, whispering reminders about what had happened inside that cave.
A hand here...a mouth there...so helpless...
How dirty was Kane now? How tainted?
A whip across your legs. A dagger along your ribs.
How much of a failure was he?
Hot breath on your wounded skin...kisses...tongues...
Fighting to breathe, Kane flattened his hands on the edge of the sink. He hardly cared when the porcelain cracked. He wanted to rip Disaster out of his chest, and strangle the creature with his bare hands.
Yes. That’s the way his tormentor would die.
Soon.
If he could get his mind right, at least a little, he could figure out a way to make it happen. But any time he wasn’t plagued by gut-wrenching memories, he was plagued by thoughts about the girl from the motel. The Fae. He ached as he’d done when she’d touched him. He tensed. He cursed.
He yearned.
He remembered the adoration painted on her face as she looked at him, as if he were someone special. A look he still didn’t understand—but wanted to experience again.
He replayed the silly words she’d spoken to him.
I never lie—except for the few times I do, in fact, lie, but it’s never intentional, and I’m totally telling the truth right now, I promise.
You weigh, like, ten thousand pounds. But they’re glorious pounds.
I’ve been crossing off the seconds in the calendar in my heart.
He wanted to know what else she would say.
Who was she? Where was she? What was she doing?
Were memories she’d rather not recall afflicting her? Was she hurt? Alone? Scared?
A few times, fear had wiped away her adoration and sass, leaving her with nothing but tremors.
He understood all too well the difficulty—the desperation—of an inescapable past.
Had she found someone to end her? Had she ended herself?
Or was she still alive?
His arms dropped to his sides as his hands fisted. She was his. She—
Wasn’t his.
Still, he wasn’t going to take care of his problem until he’d taken care of hers, was he? He couldn’t leave her out there, desperate and afraid, possibly in danger. The girl had saved him from the most horrific situation of his life. Even though she’d run away from him, he had to step up and save her from what had to be the most horrific situation of hers.
She was right, after all. He owed her. And he would pay up. Just not the way she wished. He would fix her life the way he couldn’t fix his own. Then, one of them would be happy.
She deserved to be happy.
If she still lived.
He sucked in a sharp breath. She had better still live, or he would...he would... He punched the mirror, shattering the glass. The sound of tinkling bells filled the small enclosure. Several pieces arrowed into his leg, cutting into his thigh. A gift from Disaster, he was sure. Gritting his teeth, he removed the shards.
After he helped the girl, he could concentrate on killing the demon. He wouldn’t give up until he succeeded. He couldn’t take this anymore, and he didn’t want his friends to have to take it anymore, either. He was too much of a danger to those around him, and there were too many innocents here.
He would leave today, he decided, and he wouldn’t ever come back.
Sorrow settled heavily on his shoulders, weighing him down. He couldn’t talk to his friends about his decision. They wouldn’t understand. They would try to talk him into taking another path. They might even lock him away for his “own good.”
They’d done it once before.
Kane wouldn’t sneak away, but he wouldn’t admit the truth, either. He would say his goodbyes, as if he meant to return after his rescuer had been saved. Only he would know this was it. The end.
Jaw locked, Kane strapped weapons all over his body. There were multiple blades, two Sigs and several clips. He dressed in a black T-shirt and camo pants, then tugged on his favorite pair of combat boots. He stomped from the bathroom, glass crunching under his feet, his mind a field of evil laughter.
Stupid demon.
During Kane’s absence, his friends had moved into a fortress in the Realm of Blood and Shadows, a kingdom hidden in a pocket between earth and the lower level of the skies. He strode down the hall, his gaze on the walls covered with pictures of a beautiful blonde female in various outfits and positions. Lounging on a velvet-lined couch, standing in a rose garden, dancing on a table. Blowing a kiss. Winking.