Back From Hell (15 page)

Two men were in the room, bent over the bound form of a woman whose power whispered
vampire
along Steph’s refined senses. One man lunged for them instinctively and Stephanie pivoted, feeling the hot spill of his blood splatter all over her as she struck out with her blade, slicing his throat open. As the silver touched the were’s flesh, his skin started to smoke and he fell down to the floor, choking and gagging on his own blood.

He might be able to heal it. If he was strong. Otherwise, the silver alone would kill him.

Stephanie turned to see Beau throw the other man across the room. He grabbed her hand and ordered, “Stand back.” Then he turned and faced the wall. Stephanie flinched as she felt some bizarre power rising in the air like a windstorm, and then the wall she was staring at was just…gone. It exploded outward from them as a spray of dust, plaster and pieces of brick spun from the gaping hole.

“Holy shit.”

Beau’s hand folded around hers and Stephanie shook her head. “Oh, hell no!”

But Beau just laughed as he pulled her along. As the door behind them burst open, Stephanie went hurtling through the jagged hole in the wall, and to her disgust, she actually screamed.

They landed on the ground some thirty feet below and rolled, bouncing back up to their feet. Stephanie turned for one brief second to stare at the gaping hole she’d just jumped through. Even down on the ground, knowing she’d just leaped that distance, it made her queasy.

Cutting Beau a dirty look, she said, “I hate heights.” Then she took off running as men appeared at the hole, staring down at them.

She heard them jumping, felt the silent rage that flowed around them almost like a cloak.

But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she had to run. Keep running.

Chapter Ten

Ronan stood in the middle of what looked like a desert. From what little he had heard of the demon realm, he knew it never appeared the same from one person to another. Somebody else could stand here and it might look like a busy city intersection, and to another, a frozen arctic canyon. The hot wind blew his hair into his face and sand swirled all around.

Squinting, he fought to see through the dust.

There was nothing in sight but sand for miles and miles and miles. How was he supposed to find Jenai?

It was like a little voice whispering inside his head, like a voice of doubt, of despair. But the second he thought Jenai’s name, the voice seemed to fade to nothingness.

But it wasn’t doubt. He had none. Focusing on Jenai’s face, he said to whatever creature was trying to slip inside his mind, “I can find her. I
will
find her.”

The wind suddenly died down and the blurring sand fell still. Something shimmered in front of him, but Ronan knew better than to look directly at it. Vaguely woman-shaped, with skin that glowed a pale luminescent blue, it moved toward him. When it spoke, the words were distorted and echoed all around. “So certain, are you? But this is our realm, not yours.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken what is mine,” Ronan said flatly.

“Yours? We cannot take what isn’t there for the taking. If she was yours, she wouldn’t have come to us.”

“She didn’t come. She was given, and they had no right to give her, and you had no right to take her. I will find her. The fact that I made it through the void to stand here is proof of that.”

The thing faded away, softly echoing, “So certain…”

Ronan blinked, reaching up to rub the gritty sand from his eyes, and then he started to walk, the sun beating down on his back.

He would find her.

He would.

Time had little meaning here.

Ronan logically knew that, but he glanced at his watch and realized he had been walking for a full day, but the sun hadn’t even moved from its position in the sky, he realized just how out of his depth he was.

Useless…it’s useless…

He snarled, and the harsh, animalistic growl that fell from his lips startled him.

The voice whispering into his mind fell silent, and he felt some odd surprise emanating from it. Wherever it was. Whatever it was.

Closing his eyes against the endless expanse of sun and sand, Ronan sank to the ground, folding his legs, blocking out the heat, the sun, the sand, everything but her face.

He was no fucking amateur—he damn well knew how to use his powers to locate a person, and just because he wasn’t in the mortal realm anymore didn’t change that. He was what he was, and his power never changed.

Time passed as he sank deeper into a meditative state, something he hadn’t actually done since his training, but it wasn’t something one ever forgot.

Locked in the trance, he was now hyper-aware of everything within and without. And there were things trying to work their way inside his mind, nasty little demons that brought doubt and despair. They had already breached the first of his shields, but they could go no further until he opened himself up to their power.

Although physically he never moved, in the surreal world inside his being, he opened his eyes and faced the creatures.

“You don’t belong here,” he said to them.

The things laughed, writhing around each other like snakes in a pit.
Neither do you. Go back, go back before we keep you.
Their voices echoed within his head and he could feel them, pushing against him, against his will, against his innermost shields as they tried to force their magick inside his mind as well as their voices.

Ronan laughed and the things stilled. He felt all eyes turn to him, felt their dismay and shock. “You have something that is mine—so until I find her, I do belong here. And you
can’t
keep me. I’m here with a purpose. You can only keep what comes here in grief, in despair.”

What do you know? Foolish mortal…

Ronan grinned at them and flexed subtly the power of his mind, the power like an invisible hand reaching out and jabbing at their cohesive knot, making them screech and jerk away. “I’m not mortal.”

Get away—you don’t belong here!

Ronan just smiled. “When I have what I came for.”

In the face of his confidence, the misty demons of doubt and despair faded away, screeching into the darkness.

His mind completely his own now, he focused his mind outward, searching for Jenai.

When he found her, he slammed a shield between them. He couldn’t get tangled in what was being done to her, not until he could go to her. If he let her despair pull him in, the demons of this realm would feel his weakness and work their way inside him once more.

But he whispered to her,
I’m coming, Jenai
.

He felt the startled surprise move through her and then he opened his eyes.

The sun had set. Finally.

The clear silver light of the moon shone down on him and he was no longer in a desert. Instead, he stood at a stream just at the edge of a huge forest, full of twisted trees and bizarre plants.

Deep inside, things moved. Things fed.

Setting his jaw, Ronan moved forward.

* * * * *

The pretty little human was unconscious again. Human…no, not exactly. Azar knew, logically, that a human would have already fallen under his thrall.

She still fought. That was so appealing…

But the despair was moving closer on her. Once it took over her mind, she’d be vulnerable and he would own her then.

A part of him felt sorry for that. He didn’t particularly want to see this pretty bit broken, even though another part of him yearned to hear her beg him for the divine pain he could offer her.

It would happen.

No creature from the mortal realm could hold out endlessly against him.

As he turned away from his little pet, he heard them coming.

Brethren, he supposed, of a sort, but they weren’t welcome here. He was a creature who preferred solidarity, who shunned his own kind. The only creatures welcome here were those he had chosen for himself.

Azar met them at the border of his territory, the misty demons of doubt, the formless shade that brought despair and anger, and the incubi that traveled through this realm, moving through dreams to feed off the lust and despair from the mortal realm.

Conchez stood at the head, his midnight black skin pure and perfect. His eyes were lidless, deep pools of red, red as the hair that flowed nearly to his knees. One of the oldest incubi, and Azar’s greatest enemy.

“The mortal is still withholding from you, Azar,” Conchez said. “We can feel her struggles and it weakens us.”

Azar arched a brow at Conchez, ignoring everybody but the black demon. “Are you so weak that a woman’s thoughts threaten you?”

Conchez snarled. “’Tis not the woman herself. She has somebody searching for her who doesn’t belong here. Things without doubt or despair do not belong in our realm, Azar.
They
are the threat. Break her, otherwise, when he comes, she’ll find strength. Mortals do not leave our realm. They become one of us. You should know better than anybody.”

With a cool smile, Azar said, “I wasn’t broken here, Conchez. I wasn’t forced into this. I chose it. Maybe that is why I’m more powerful than you.” His smile changed to a sneer and he drawled, “Of course, I’ve seen wraiths with more power than you. The only thing you can wield is fear, and that not very well.”

The other demon snarled and stalked closer. “You think that because you
chose
this that it makes you better than us? The man who became demon to avenge his love? She is still dead, and you are still incubus. Trapped here—just like us.”

Azar glanced down as Conchez jabbed at his chest with an inky black finger and then he looked up. Silkily, he whispered, “Do not touch me, Conchez.”

When the demon jabbed at him again, Azar backed up just the slightest step and struck out, his fist crashing into Conchez’ face. Bone cracked, pale blue demon blood flowed and Conchez and flew through the air.

When the black demon leaped back to his feet, he threw himself across the distance that separated them, but before he could reach Azar, the golden demon lifted one hand and a thick wall of fire sprang up, closing around Conchez. The other demons screamed and shrank away, watching as the wall of fire formed into a ball, closing over the demon as he cursed and struggled.

“Do not push your luck, Conchez. Continue, and I will kill you.”

With that, he turned and made his way back to where his new toy waited. So…somebody was coming for her.

* * * * *

She clenched her eyes shut when she felt him moving toward her.

Her body ached from the last time he’d touched her.

Oh, he hadn’t hurt her. Azar had learned quickly that pain only angered her and gave her strength. Strength was the last thing he wanted her to have, so he avoided giving her pain.

For a time, at least. When she was ready to beg for it, he would bestow it upon her, and part of Jenai feared that time was closer than she liked to think.

No, it’s not.

Jenai sighed wearily as that familiar voice whispered inside her mind once more.
Go away.

Reasonably, calmly, the man just said,
Can’t. You still need me here. You don’t want what this creature can offer you…not really. You’re a fighter, Jenai. Fight.

I’m just so tired…

The man murmured soothingly inside her head and she had the odd impression of a hand stroking down her head.
Then rest. He’s gone for now…

Even as she tried to find some sort of strength inside, despair chased her.

No matter what her unknown friend continued to tell her, she was giving up.

And she knew it.

Once she did, the demon would have her. Totally…and for all eternity.

His kind craved that sort of submission, craved the despair that would fuel the passion of a woman ready to be born into the world of the demonic.

But he’d used her harshly—her thighs trembled, and the folds of her vagina were sore from the long hours she’d spent under his body. Even now, part of her wept for more, while yet another part cringed in disgust.

Her lips were swollen and bloodied. In the very end, sinking her teeth into them and drawing blood had been the only thing that had kept her from screaming out and begging him to do whatever he wished with her.

Words had power—as long as she kept from saying what was in her mind, he couldn’t bind her. But the moment she did—

Tears seeped from beneath her lids and trickled down to dampen her hair as she lay there trembling, and hoping he’d ignore her today.

If she could just hold out for another day, then maybe she could hold on for yet another, and another…

The rich scent of sizzling meat drifted to her nostrils, and saliva pooled in her mouth. She was hungry—starving, in fact. Not that he hadn’t offered her sustenance, but it had been in the form of blood.

His blood. Jenai knew better than to feed from a demon. Her mind was still her own, but if she did that, he would own her.

When she’d refused his blood, he hadn’t offered again and she had eaten only the bread and bland, tasteless fruit his minions brought her from time to time. Jenai was growing weaker. Her body—half vampire, half human, all Night Stalker—could withstand starvation and abuse and torture for a time. But weeks without a serious feed, weeks without regular meals, were wearing thin on her.

“You might as well sit up, pet. I know you’re awake. I can feel it.”

He’d moved too quickly upon her, too silently, and when he spoke, his breath was a warm caress against her neck. She quivered from the start. Azar’s hand trailed down her hip and she sank her teeth into her abused lip to keep from moaning. He sighed.

“You hurt.” Oddly, his words sounded…regretful.

Bitterly, she said, “But pain is what demons enjoy. This should please you.”

“There is pain…and then there is pain, pet. Come.” His hands slid under her and she flinched as he pulled her against him, but all he did was lift her, carry her through the chamber made of black, glossy stone, and down a long hallway. The door opened before he even reached it, and billows of steam drifted out.