City of Dragons: Of Flesh and Blood (51 page)

But even having his
need
fed
didn’t change the fact he was back in a small corner of hell he did not want to be in. Eventually, Orin would have to open his eyes, but for right now he laid among the furs and swells of bodies, willing his hearts to quit. Of course they didn’t listen.

Mary had been afraid of dying because she had been raised to believe all Kin, or those mixed with their blood, were destined for eternal damnation. A one-way guaranteed ticket to a lake of fire, because God of Man did not give entrance to the wyrms. Some faiths just put them in the category of animals, while Mary’s stated Kin were stamped on the ass with a free one-way pass to Hell.

If only she could see just how wrong her religion was. Kin didn’t go to Hell when they died, they lived it. Tied to Queens or held captive in their Dens, made to
belong
. Used.

Dying was just an escape.

So if Orin really believed that, why didn’t he just rip out his own throat? He couldn’t explain it. As much as he hated the here and now, death was something he couldn’t understand and didn’t want to face, and didn’t have to face as long as he kept breathing. So he lived. Only because dying wasn’t an option.

But living meant breathing, and breathing meant smelling himself…God of Man, he’d give his right hand just to have a freaking shower. Orin couldn’t stand the honey sweet taste of Rehbek’ah. It was all over him. Along with the smell of sex. The smell of other Males. The smell of his own sated
need
.

Most Males would have been all over Rehbek’ah as soon as they were awake. Orin, however, couldn’t stand the thought of even touching her. But moving required opening his eyes and ending his fantasy of being dead.

Besides, as long as he was still, the others slept. No one moved. And therefore nothing happened.

But even this momentary bit of peace ended when a second Female presence rippled through the belly of the Hive. The presence of a Queen came down on Orin, as real as flesh and bone pinning him in place.

“Where is the RHage, Orin?” The thick seductive voice was nothing like Rehbek’ah’s.

The other Males raised their heads, fear spiking their scents, but nothing held them in place so they fled. Like rats from a sinking ship, they abandoned Rehbek’ah and ran.

Beside him Rehbek’ah stirred, making angry sounds.

From the shadows formed by weak candlelight, something magnificent and terrible emerged from the inkwell of darkness hanging between one corridor to the next. Even though it had been almost eight hundred years since Orin had seen her, he recognized the bronze and black scaled hide and the head of massive spikes. God of Man, Nidia was now bigger than Medan.

The force of her RHage squeezed Orin’s throat as a single silver eye turned in his direction.

“Let him go, Nidia!” Rehbek’ah flashed fang, but for all the attention Nidia gave her, she might as well have been a gnat or something equally dangerous.

Nidia purred. “Tell me, Orin. Is it hidden within? Do I need to crack your chest and drink it out?”

Rehbek’ah screeched. “You’re killing him!”

Black spots burst in front of Orin’s eyes as he struggled for air. Then the pressure popped free and Orin sucked in air, coughed, and sucked in more. His lungs threatened to collapse under the double load. Rehbek’ah petted him and he slapped her hands away. Nidia’s massive skull came forward. The left side of her wedge-shaped head was flawless and beautiful, but when she turned, the right side was a mass of scars stretched over sharp bones. Without scales and muscle to cover her serrated teeth they were left exposed in a gruesome grin. Her other eye was almost buried under a mar of burnt skin, and what did show was a useless milky white.

Wounds like that were only caused by magic, and it was damage that would never heal. He had no idea how it happened to her. The last time Orin saw the Queen of North Carolina she’d been flawless.

Orin rolled out of the bed furs and tried to crawl across the floor. But Nidia called to his flesh. Her RHage washed over him and he collapsed, clawing at his throat. This close to her, she could just will his body to kill him.

“Tell me, Orin! Where is the RHage?” Nidia moved closer and Orin could see the extent of the damage, which included one front leg and part of a wing. Christ, whatever had hurt her had been powerful.

A freaking atom bomb.

Air returned and he stayed down. Orin said, “I don’t have it.”

Nidia’s hot breath rolled over his skin and he thoroughly expected his epidermal layer to peel itself off and crawl away. A blistering wet heat rode up the length of his body as she stroked him with her tongue, tasting him.

She said, “Tell me.” So not a request.

Orin stared at Nidia. Her one good eye hovered above his body and he could see himself in the silvery depths, looking terrified.

Hell, he was terrified.

Nidia said, “I will not ask you again.” All her RHage fell on Orin, crushing the life from his body, and he screamed. Misery, anguish, torment and agony. The name he didn’t really want to give was ripped from his throat on the throes of torture.

Urine soaked Orin’s legs and vomit coated his chest. Then everything went black for a moment. Holy shit, when he could see again he was clinging to Rehbek’ah with his face in her neck. The deep rumble in his ears was a growl rolling from her chest.

Rehbek’ah said, “This isn’t what we agreed on, Nidia. He is mine, the RHage is yours. If it’s gone, just too fucking bad.”

Nidia made a strange sound, something between a laugh and a hiss. Orin wasn’t sure. His body was too busy throwing off shakes and shudders as it burned to heal the damage she’d done.

“Rehbek’ah…” Nidia rolled her silver eye over the young Queen. “You are Queen only because your Mother is dead by my claw.”

The Female’s arms tightened around Orin’s body. He wasn’t going to complain. Hell no. He’d take disgusted and nauseous over being mindfucked any day of the week.

Nidia’s massive head, filled with jagged fangs, turned toward him. The flesh and thin muscle on the right pulled tight. Bone gleamed just below the surface, revealing a grisly mask of death. Her one good eye flared bleeding red.

“Give him to me, Rehbek’ah. If I cannot have the RHage, I want his body. I can use him as Serena did. A vessel. A path to power.”

God of Man, no. Orin clung to the Athens Queen. As long as she didn’t surrender him, the seclusion remained in place and Nidia could not touch him under threat of Medan’s wrath. But then maybe she wouldn’t give a flying flip. Not much scared Queens like her.

Orin felt the heat roll from Rehbek’ah’s skin. Her arms tightened. “You can’t have him. Orin is mine. He’s always been mine.”

Thank you, insanity!

Orin shivered as Nidia’s RHage beat its way across the cave. Rehbek’ah’s metaphysical force responded, flaring a defense, keeping the North Carolina Queen’s telekinetic ties to his flesh at bay. But it wasn’t going to last for long. Orin could feel it. One way or another Nidia was going to have what she wanted.

It happened so quick he wasn’t even sure if he had been thrown or slapped. Since nothing had been ripped from where it belonged, he was left to assume Rehbek’ah had tossed him clear.

Orin tumbled head over heels into the furs as Rehbek’ah’s true form ripped from her Human skin. She was a beautiful creature, long flowing lines, wide rounded wings, a lean and deadly head full of needle teeth. But Nidia outsized her easily fivefold.

Like a bad car wreck, all the carnage drew Orin’s eyes like glue, and no matter how much he wanted to look away, he couldn’t.

The Queens collided and teeth flashed like pearlized swords. Chelae struck flesh, and the tearing sounded like rain-soaked flags undulating in the wind. Nidia moved in the way that was only gifted to the really old. In spite of her withered right front leg and the loss of scale and muscle along her face and neck, she blocked Rehhek’ah’s attack. The metaphysical forces of the Queens slammed together, bending light like heat on a black top. The backlash of the preternatural collided, rippled through the air, pushing the bits of silk and tapestry hanging from the ceiling and walls.

Logic dictated the younger Queen didn’t stand a chance, but if Orin had been given the choice on the winner, he would have voted for Rehbek’ah hands down. Petty, childish, and crazy was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than evil any day.

The fight ended abruptly in a wash of blood which soaked the floor, walls, and covered Orin in a sheet of green.

Nidia’s jaws looked impossibly large over the smaller Queen’s shredded throat. She shook the corpse, once, twice, then tore out a mouthful of flesh and swallowed it down.

“Now…” Nidia slid forward, even more marred, crippled and maimed. Orin felt his brain short like a bad connection as the North Carolina Queen’s Rhage filled him up and over. “Let me take that Mark from you, make you my own.”

“Wait!” The familiar voice jerked Orin back into the here and now. He blinked, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. ‘Cause it had to be a trick of the mind.

Near the center of the room the Jersey City Prince was on his knees. Deshi’s blond head tipped forward and his shoulders came down. He said something in Olde Tongue, really Olde Tongue, the dialect reserved for pledges and arguments involving rank.

“
I Challenge his place.”

When Nidia spoke it was not in the Mother language. “Challenge his place? Deshi, Son of the Jersey City Queen, you challenge Orin’s place? His place is a vessel, a mindless piece of flesh.” Her wedge-shaped head shot forward, and while Orin tumbled back, Deshi didn’t even twitch.

The Prince lifted his chin. “His purpose is not my concern. I challenge his place.”

Nidia’s lips rolled and an angry sound echoed from her gaping jaws. “What foolishness is this? What kind of game does Haley play with your life?”

Deshi shook his head. “Haley has nothing to do with this. It’s my choice. My right. My place. It’s Queen’s Law.”

Orin couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He rubbed his face once, then again, and again. Deshi stood up and looked at him. His blue eyes were impossibly bright. Orin struggled to stand but he was still blitzed from the feed, the sex, the Roll, the massive healing, not to mention Nidia trying to crush the life out of him with a thought, so nothing was working right just yet.

And while he should have been worried about what was going to happen next, he kept thinking how the Jersey City Prince was never going to get those ugly green stains out his expensive Italian slacks.

A perfect manicured hand grabbed Orin by the neck and pulled him upright, and on a warm breath next to his ear Deshi said, “I won’t be able to hold her for very long. Don’t stop running. When I let you up, don’t stop.”

Let him up? Orin had just enough time to throw the Prince a questioning look and then his world went spinning.

Orin’s instinct shot off on all pistons and he fought against the grip on his neck, the line of heat as his back, but still he went down. Deshi was a hell of a lot stronger than Orin ever imagined possible.

In front of them, Nidia turned her good eye to watch the fight unfold. The reasons for the roll were irrelevant because her ego was being stroked. She was being fought over. The pleasure of such a display to a Queen was as tantalizing as the prospect of sex.

Orin’s was sucker-punched by the rock floor and Deshi’s teeth punched through his shoulder. The choreographed collision sounded like a gun going off and hurt just as bad.

The Prince’s knees came down on the back of Orin’s thighs, and his lower half pressed against Orin’s ass and held him there. Even though Orin knew the Prince was doing this to get him out of here, he couldn’t stop himself from not wanting it to happen.

It was simply the nature of being a Dominant.

A deep thrum fired up in Nidia’s chest and her wings vibrated. She was too large to stand upright, but she rose up as far as the ceiling would allow.

Orin felt his hearts thunder and the barest tremble came from Deshi at his back.

“Come to me, Deshi.” Nidia extended her good hand. The ebon chelae tipping the end of each of her fingers gleamed and sparkled, still slick with Rehbek’ah’s blood. “Come to me and prove your worth to stand by my side. To be one of my Marked.”

The weight at Orin’s back shifted and the bite on his neck came free. At the same moment a hand stroked his cheek, neck, and shoulder, giving assurance.

“Go now,” Deshi whispered. He sounded too calm and smelled too sure of himself. Orin almost forgot he was supposed to be hauling his ass out. Covered with blood, naked, and terrified, Orin headed toward the exit.

Deshi was going to die.

The thought stopped Orin at the head of the tunnel and he looked back. The Jersey City Prince gave Orin a small shy smile, but his eyes were fierce.

Fucking enraged.

“Go.” He didn’t so much say the word as form it with his lips. Orin didn’t want to leave Deshi, but stopping the coming course of events was about as likely as convincing the sun it didn’t need to rise. There were simply times when the only thing a Male could do was run for his life.

And this was definitely one of them.

Fear became nitrous oxide in his bloodstream and Orin flew up the side tunnel. He hit the upper level where the DA had been hanging on display and nearly tripped over the carpet of bodies covering the Hive floor. The Queen’s dead Marked were scattered with legs bent, like they’d met the grim reaper at a full run.

White-scales made a quick meal of the free flesh and blood. A few gave him a cursory look but none got in his way. Their voices filled the air with contented whirrs along with the sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh. No screams though. At least the dead were quiet.

The scent of a mild December night pumped its way down the corridor. Orin stumbled once when he felt the wave of metaphysical power. Behind Orin the white-scales keened. He had to hurry. If Nidia was as strong as he feared, the aftershocks of her Rolling Deshi could take him down and knock him out.

Blue and red flashed in quick bursts, coating the mouth of the exit in a pastel glow. The main exit to the Athens Dens spilled out onto a deep green lawn with trees as old as the city. An old colonial sat off to the side, looking like something half finished or maybe just partially swallowed up by the stone.