CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DRY, BRITTLE foliage reached out from the plethora of trees, slapping at Strider's cheeks, scratching his skin and darkening his already black mood. He had Hadiee, aka Haidee, aka Ex, roped to him and leading the way, taking the brunt of the branch-slaps as she grumbled and complained and called him all manner of names. "Bastard" was the kindest.
Back at the hotel, he'd lain on top of her, vowing to hurt her worse than she'd ever been hurt, but in the end, he hadn't cut her into small pieces, hadn't even scratched her, and he was pissed as hell about it.
He'd raised his blade to do so. To take a finger at the very least. She deserved it for killing Baden. But she'd gazed up at him with such courage, such challenge, wanting him to end her it seemed. So he'd stayed his hand. No way would he give her what she wanted.
As if she sensed the direction of his thoughts—and hell, maybe she did. She was immortal now, but he didn't know how she was or what she was—she shouted over her shoulder, "You should have killed me, you stupid moron!" Her gray eyes gleamed. Her skin was flushed and dewy with sweat—that actually resembled tiny beads of ice—and her pink hair was plastered to her temples.
Even worn-out, she was a lovely sight. Thank the gods "beautiful bitch" wasn't his type. "And end your suffering? Ha! Keep moving."
"You're the one who's going to suffer. If you think I'll keep my fury to myself, you're stupider than you look. And you look endlessly stupid! I plan to tell you about every damn thing that bothers me. Starting with the insects. They're eating me alive!"
For half an hour, she complained about the damn bugs. Only took five minutes, though, for his ears to start bleeding from the shrillness of her voice.
"Time-out," she snapped. "We've been walking for hours, and I need to rest."
"Time in. We're close to where I want to be. No resting yet."
"Time-out. Or are you too scared to rest for a few minutes?"
Scared? It was a challenge to prove himself, and one his demon accepted.
Scowling, Strider stopped abruptly. Ex didn't realize this and kept moving until the rope around her ankle—a rope that was tied to his wrist—ran out of slack and jerked. She tumbled to her face, quickly rolled over and glared up at him.
His scowl became a grin as he dropped his backpack at the base of a tree and flopped beside it. "Fine. Time-out."
Ex remained on the ground, though she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "Bastard," she muttered.
"Touch your ankle and I'll cut off your hands." An empty boast—maybe—but she didn't know that. "And here's another bitch-slap of truth, little girl. From now on, every time you challenge me, I will view it as an invitation to have sex with you." Nothing would disgust her more, he was sure.
The rosy flush abandoned her cheeks. "Warning received."
Good. Now. Since they were resting "for a few minutes," he might as well make the best of it. "Hungry?"
"Yes."
He unzipped his pack and withdrew a box of Red Hots.
Ex spotted them, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "That's what you brought for field rations? You idiot! Stupid is too generous a word for you. Candy won't sustain us."
"Speak for yourself." He tossed a mouthful past his lips, chewed and closed his eyes at the delicious taste. Maybe even moaned.
When he next looked at her, she was frowning and holding out her hand.
"You sure you want some? These are only for idiots too stupid to bring proper field rations."
"Just give me."
He dumped a few of the precious candies into her shockingly chilled palm before he could change his mind about feeding her, then shook as many as he could fit into his mouth. Again, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Cinnamon. There was no better taste. Even females couldn't compare. Unless they tasted like cinnamon, but he'd never met one who did. Not naturally, at least.
"Where we going, anyway?" Ex grumbled.
He swallowed. "None of your damn business." He said it pleasantly, yet left no room for argument.
Truth was, he was taking her to Budapest. Only, he was taking her the long way. Through forest and desert and anything else that struck his fancy. Anything that would break her down, weaken her and force her to rely on him. Not to mention, get her boyfriend off his trail.
Right now they were on the newly risen island of the Unspoken Ones, making their way to the temple, but staying away from civilization.
After all, he'd been on his way to visit the Unspoken Ones when Ex and her friends had interrupted him, and he saw no reason to change his plans on her account. Besides, this way he had the added benefit of showing Ex what a true monster was.
They'd frighten her, she'd realize Strider wasn't as bad as she'd thought and be grateful he'd kept her safe. Soon she would trust him to always see to her protection. She would open up and tell him everything he wanted to know about her and her Hunter pals. Since he obviously didn't have the stomach to kill her—now, at least, and that still dropped him right into a shame spiral—he might as well use her. And then betray her. Just as she'd betrayed Baden.
When Strider finished with her, when she trusted him completely, he might just send her back to her people. After they knew how disloyal she had been to them, that is. Then they could kill her.
To gain her trust, though, he couldn't be too nice to her. Not in the beginning at least. She would become suspicious. Besides, he wasn't that good an actor. He hated this woman, and the thought of being nice to her grated his every nerve.
"Got any water?" she asked in that whining, complaining voice.
Gra-ted. "Yeah." He grabbed one of the bottles of water he'd brought, twisted off the cap and drained most of the contents while she watched. A whimper escaped her, and he squeezed the bottle a little too hard, crackling the plastic.
"Well? Are you going to share or not?"
With a forced shrug, he tossed her what was left. "That has my cooties," he informed her.
"Good news is, I'm up-to-date on all my shots." She drained the contents in seconds, then peered over at him, clearly irritated with what little he'd given her.
"Be grateful I gave you any at all," he said with feeling.
"Evil bastard."
"Murderous bitch." Stop. This isn't the way to win her over. Who cares if she becomes suspicious thanks to sweet behavior?
Win her over, Defeat commanded. Win. Win. Win.
Great. His demon saw winning her as a challenge. It was a challenge he hadn't needed, but there was no way around it now. He had to convince her to—he almost growled—like him.
Motions clipped, Strider dug through the backpack until he found the dehydrated meat he'd brought. He pulled out a bag of it, as well as another bottle of water, and tossed both to the girl.
She caught them easily, realized what they were and grumbled, "Thanks."
"You're...welcome." Ugh. That hadn't been fun to say. Actually tasted like ash on his tongue.
Silent, he watched her as she ate. Dirt smudged her face, and there were tiny scratches along her jaw. Bugs had bitten her neck, leaving swollen, pink circles. Her clothes were wet with perspiration and just as dirty as her face.
Why didn't any of that detract from her loveliness?
She probably made a deal with the devil. Like Legion. Unlike Aeron, he wasn't willing to die to save her. "How long have you been dating your man?"
Dark lashes lifted, and then gunmetal eyes were peering into his soul. "Why do you want to know?"
"Simple curiosity."
"Fine. I'll tell you. But answer a question for me first."
"Sure." That didn't mean he'd answer honestly.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No." Truth. No reason to lie about that.