"It's your grandmother…she's…she's…oh, God, baby."
She was dead. Her grandmother was dead. "Murdered?" she managed to get out.
"I don't know. I can't find her, haven't heard from her. She seems to have disappeared for good. I've been so worried about you." Her mother sobbed, hiccupped.
Had Danika been standing, she would have collapsed. Rage skittered through her, even shuttered over her eyes. Rage and a strange kind of numbness, like she was standing in the middle of a dream and only needed to wake up. Wake up so that everything would be okay.
"You have to hide, baby. Please. I can't lose you, too."
Glass shattered in another room.
Danika gasped, snapping out of that numbing rage, her heart missing a beat and squeezing painfully.
"What's wrong?" her mom demanded.
"I think they found me," she whispered on a trembling breath. "Hide, Mom. Wherever you are, run and hide. I love you." Fighting terror-induced paralysis, she dropped the phone and stood to stiff legs. Oh, God. Her grandmother was most likely dead, and now she had been found. Weaponless. You knew better. Think, think! Legs shaking, stomach churning, she raced back into the bathroom and reached for the razor she kept on the sink.
Through the open door she could see a tall, muscled man stalk through the hallway, his wings scraping against the walls like fingers over a chalkboard. She nearly collapsed. Aeron. Aeron had found her. She remembered him well. His violent tattoos, his piercing gaze. If Reyes haunted her dreams, Aeron embodied her nightmares. He wasn't human, could fly like the dragons of myth, and was as fierce and deadly as any warrior of legend.
He paused in front of the bathroom doorway, sniffed the air. Blood spattered his face and stained his hands. Her grand-mother's?
Do something! Danika shocked herself by lunging for him, razor swinging for his throat. No killer instinct? She slashed at his jugular. If she failed to kill him, he would be free to attack her mother and sister—and that she wouldn't allow. Contact. Fresh blood instantly poured from the wound.
He didn't go down. He didn't fucking go down!
He turned toward her, grasping his neck and growling. His eyes blazed with red fire, and his teeth were elongated and snapping at her.
She held up the now-dripping razor. "Want some more? Bastard!" she screamed. "Come and get it!"
"Kill," he roared. He grabbed her hair, jerking her forward.
Her nose smacked into his chest. A scream bubbled in her throat, but she quickly cut it off. First rule of combat: stay calm.
She allowed her legs to slacken and he lost his hold on her hair, several strands ripping free. She rolled to her back, curled her body and slammed her feet up and into his stomach. He stumbled backward with a hiss and smacked into the coffee table. Wood and glass shattered. He fell.
Always go for the throat, her instructor said in her mind. Best way to render them helpless. Eyes slitted, Danika climbed to her knees, closed the distance between them and punched him in the throat—right where she'd cut him—opening the wound further.
Rage built inside her to a desperate degree, and she punched him again.
He growled at her with those teeth so sharp they gleamed. "Kill. Kill, kill, kill."
"Fuck you." Punch. Dear God. She could see the outline of something under his face. Something…dangerous, evil. A skeleton, a demon. It snarled at her, a bony mask of hate and darkness.
"Kill."
She tried to punch him again, but he grabbed her hand and squeezed. That was it, just a simple squeeze, yet she felt some of the bones snap. A cry of pain escaped her.
And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Reyes burst through the front door and rush into the room. He was a blur of dark hair, dark skin and dark, furious eyes. His daggers were raised and he was panting, sweating.
"Reyes!" she shouted as Aeron stood, driving her to her back as he continued to squeeze her hand. Part of her wanted to sag in relief. Part of her wanted to run from him, too.
You can't rely on him. He helped kidnap you.
He saw her and froze. "Danika." He gasped her name with such reverence she was nearly felled.
Think of your mother. Your sister. She arched up and kicked Aeron in the jaw. Finally he released her hand. God, the pain. Her fingers were limp; she couldn't move them, the joints already swollen as though she'd stuffed golf balls under her skin.
Aeron backhanded her, and she flew to the side, entire body vibrating in pain. Her teeth rattled together; her mind blinked in and out of focus. Reyes howled and attacked. The two men grappled to the floor in a tangled heap beside her. Aeron slashed with claws and teeth, Reyes with his daggers. They roared and they cursed and they snarled.
Blinking in an effort to orient herself, Danika pushed to her feet. Swayed, almost vomited.
"Run," Reyes shouted to her.
She stumbled forward, only managing to pick up speed when she reached the outside hallway. Why Reyes was helping her, she didn't know. Would he die in there?
Tears burned her eyes as she ran.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE PARTS OF LUCIEN'S SKIN not charred were tinted blue or painted red. And though he'd been burned like the marshmallow in the middle of a s'more, he was shivering from cold.
Concerned, Anya commanded a fire to start in the hearth. Instantly the flames leapt over the logs, crackling. Waves of heat wafted through the spacious room, yet Lucien's shivering only seemed to increase. Don't panic. Stay calm.
She'd never felt so helpless. Not in prison, and not with a determined Aias on top of her.
She quickly stripped, removed her spiked boots and climbed onto Lucien's battered body, running her hands over him to heat him. When she encountered the bullet wound, her throat constricted. She'd known it was there, had simply hoped it would have healed by now. Because of Cronus and her, it hadn't.
After hopping up, grabbing her shirt and ripping it in two, she climbed back onto the bed and bound Lucien's side. "Come on, Flowers. Warm up for me."
He didn't respond.
He was a block of blackened ice. Just being near him, her nipples hardened like rocks and goose bumps broke out over her skin. And for once those weren't symptoms of arousal. She pulled the covers around them to hold the heat captive, then spent the next hour simply talking to him in an effort to distract and soothe them both.
"You need to get well. Life would be totally boring without you. And baby, bad things happen when I get bored. Did I ever tell you about the time I dressed up like a teenager and attended high school for a few months? I'd been bored out of my mind for decades and when the idea hit me, I just decided to go for it. Food fights, catfights, turning on the sprinkler system at prom."
She paused, hoping for a response. Nothing.
"I wasn't naughty all the time, though," she continued. "You would have been proud. This dumb jock got a cute little nerd who worshipped the ground he walked on pregnant, then called her a slut, a whore, a skank—you know, all the names promiscuous men like to call women. Anyway, I'd once vowed never to put a curse upon another person. They suck, as you and I both know. But I cursed him with a raging hard-on, I just couldn't help myself. Nothing he did made it go away."
Lucien's body finally began to relax, his shivering easing, and he uttered a…chuckle?
Taking heart, she rushed on. "Once I attended a masked ball and dressed as the devil. Doesn't sound like a big deal, but the year was eighteen-nineteen and I created quite a stir, let me tell you. When I asked Baron something-or-other to sell me his soul, he tried to stab me with a butter knife."