Descending (The Rising Series) (21 page)

“Stop hurting yourself.
You don’t want to damage that handsome face.”

“Release me!” he shouted.

“I’ll release you under one condition.”

“What?” he growled.

“Kiss me.”

He pushed up from the deck, taking labored breaths, still recovering from the pain.

“Kiss me like you want me,” she said. “Kiss me like you… love me.”

He staggered to his feet
as the fire of passion lit in his eyes.

Aella had learned a lot
about this Dagonian. Drakōn was a killer, an assassin. He could end a life without a second thought. What she didn’t know surprised her—surprised a woman who had lived four thousand years. A woman who’d witnessed countless men rise and fall over the ages. This killer’s heart had tenderness in it. His touch was gentle, his caresses like silk. And for a brief time, she pretended he loved her. For a brief moment, she pretended she loved him in return.

But love was a fallacy
. It was a lie. Hours later, cradled in the arms of her fantasy, Aella awoke to reality. She’d been weak. She’d made her heart vulnerable. She’d entertained a dangerous fantasy—the dream that someone could ever learn to love her. That she could ever learn to love him in return. And with that realization, her indignation began to rise. She was above this. Love was weakness; love was pathetic. And she needed a healthy dose of reality to atone for her momentary lapse.

“Drakōn, wake up
,” she snapped. His eyes immediately opened. They were more glazed than usual. He looked exhausted. She pushed his arms away and stood.

She was
power
.

She was
control
.

And s
he was curious about how enamored her love slave had become. Most men gave easy adoration after making love to her. Robert no longer needed a siren’s song to compel him. He gave his devotion willingly.

She
eliminated the tenor in her voice, testing the Dagonian who had touched her so gently, who spoke so tenderly in the night. “I need a champion. Will you fight for me?”

He staggered to his feet and growled, anger surfacing as
hot, molten lava. “I’ll fight
you,
witch!” She recognized her mistake immediately and rang out a powerful, “Stop,” just as he leapt at her. With his momentum springing forward, he wasn’t able to obey. He plowed her over, knocking her to the floor and cracking her head against the baseboard. His body went limp in reaction to her command. She gasped for breath and pushed with all her might. “Get off me,” she ordered, remembering to put a generous amount of power behind her voice. He rolled off, and she whooped in a breath. That Dagonian weighed as much as a whale did.

A
nger boiled in her. He didn’t love her. They never did.

“This is how
I
fight, Dagonian,” she sang. “Hit yourself in the groin as hard as you can.”

He snarled, clutched his head
, and collapsed to the ground. “Go to Tartarus!”

“Do it
,” she said, despite knowing she didn’t need to repeat herself. Her voice would continue to inflict pain as long as he defied her. Drakōn finally fisted his hand and slammed it into his groin. He grunted, but seemed relieved not to feel the agony in his head.

“
That was disappointing,” she said.

She sauntered up to him and spoke, her voice syrupy sweet. “You
will
fight for me. I want you and Robert to fight to the death. Not only that, but I want you to tear him limb from limb with your bare hands. Will you do this for me?”

“Yes,” he answered clearly, all hints of venom gone. He’d given in completely.

“And then I want you to return to Kyros and Gretchen and kill them both in the most painful way possible. Do you understand?”

Pain flashed in his eyes,
and then he relaxed again. “Yes,” he answered.

Aella led Drakōn down to the lower deck.
Opening a door, she found Robert inside a storage room.

“Aella,
” Robert said with tears in his eyes. “I thought you’d never come back! I thought you were tossing me aside, now that you have him.” He glared at Drakōn. Drakōn stood indifferent.

“You can have me,” Aella said, caressing the side of
Robert’s face, “if you want me.”

“Oh
, I do.” He turned to her and took her hand.

“
Are you ready to fight for me?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Okay.” She looked from Robert to Drakōn. “Whichever of you survives gets to have me.” She was about to explain to Robert the part about ripping limbs apart, but it wasn’t worth her breath. This man might be a mighty warrior among humans, but he was no match for this Dagonian.

“I only ask that neither of you brings the fight close to me. You wouldn’t want me to get
hurt, would you?”

“Oh no. Baby, I would never let you get hurt
,” Robert exclaimed vehemently. Aella frowned at Drakōn’s lack of response and rubbed the throbbing lump on the back of her head.

“
All right, let the fight begin,” she said. Drakōn leapt forward and snapped Robert’s neck in less time than it took her to blink. Aella looked down at Robert’s broken body. He died with an adoring expression on his face. The fool must have been looking at her instead of his opponent.

“
When you’re done, clean up the mess,” she ordered as she opened the door to leave. “Oh, and make sure you shower and put on clean clothing before returning to bed. You can have all of Robert’s clothes.
He
sure won’t need them.”

She turned and left without a backward glance.

Gretchen awoke with her back pressed against Kyros’s stomach. His arms wrapped around her. She’d never felt so loved, so protected…
Wait a minute.
Someone was knocking.

Gretchen sat up
. “Did you call Xanthus?”

“Yeah, about half an hour ago.”

“Kyros, it
’s me, Xanthus. I’m here with Sara.” Xanthus’s voice came from outside.

Kyros
stood and stepped to the door.

Gretchen’s heart pounded. Darn it. She
hadn’t had time to run through what she was going to say to Sara—how she’d break the news to her. Not only that, but she was probably a mess. Her hair, most mornings, looked like hedgehog had parked himself on her head.

“Are you alone?” Kyros asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ve got to go shower first,” she
whispered at Kyros and ran for the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

She’d just shut the door when she heard talking in the next room. Turning on the shower, she began to collect her thoughts. Needing to cleanse her mind as well as body, she ran the water cool. It was probably a mermaid thing, but she
preferred a nice cool shower to a hot one.

She washed out the salt, applied conditioner, and
scrubbed her body. Luckily, she didn’t have to shave. Her favorite mermaid perk—no leg hair. She was careful to keep her injured hand out of the stream of water. Still, she was in and out in five minutes. She did have one problem though; she had nothing to wear. Hopefully, the motel had laundry service.

She heard a soft knock on the door. “Gretchen, I brought you some clothes from the house.” It was Sara.

Gretchen cracked the door and snatched the bag. “Thanks, sweetie.”

Minutes later, Gretchen had fresh clothes on and her hair
combed out. She stepped out of the bathroom and found Kyros, Xanthus, and Sara all sitting at a table, talking.

Sara immediately stood. Gretchen’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. The only other time she’d seen her on her feet was the day she was shot. Should she be walking around?

Gretchen didn’t know what to say. Sara looked to be feeling about the same. They both stood, not moving. Gretchen decided she needed to make the first move. She stepped across the room and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “You’re walking. I still can’t believe it.”

“I’m sorry I lied. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
Her eyes went to the seaweed wrap around Gretchen’s hand. “What’s up with your hand?”

“Oh, it’s just a scratch. Kyros overreacted and put some herbal seaweed stuff on it.”

She could see Kyros shaking his head in her peripheral vision.

“I don’t know how to explain…”
Sara said, looking over at Xanthus.

Gretchen glanced at Kyros
and asked, “How much have you told them?”

“I thought yo
u should be the one to tell her. We’ll just be outside,” he said, gesturing Xanthus to the door. Xanthus hesitated a moment before he followed, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Tell me what?” Sara
asked, turning back to her.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Gretchen tugged her down on the couch. “Well, you know how well we hit things off when we met. We both felt like we were
long-lost sisters.”

“Yeah…”

“Come to find out, that’s not far from the truth.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “You. Can’t. Mean.”

“That we’re related? Yes, we are.”

Sara swayed, obviously stunned by the news.
“What are we? Distant cousins?”

“Not cousins, and we’re not distantly related.
I think it might be easier for you to understand if I tell you a little about my background. You already know I’m adopted.”

“Yes,
” Sara said. “You have an amazing mom.”

“
My birth mom is not so great.”

“I thought you didn’t remember
her.” Sara lifted a shaky hand and brushed her hair behind her ear.

“Oh no. I remember her. I just didn’t want to.
She was a monster. She killed a lot of people or rather, she convinced people to kill each other.” Gretchen’s voice shook as she spoke. She’d never imagined she’d be having this conversation with another living soul—least of all, Sara. Just talking about it caused Gretchen’s chest to tighten and her heart to tremble.

Gretchen could tell exactly when
the truth hit Sara. Her eyes widened, and she visibly paled. “Are we related on my mom’s side or my dad’s?”

Gretchen hesitated a moment before she quietly said,
“Your dad’s.”

“You know who my dad is?”

Gretchen nodded. “Your father is my grandfather.” Gretchen looked at Sara and realized for the first time where Sara must have gotten her striking blue eyes. Gretchen’s own brown eyes were like brown mud puddles next to Sara’s eyes, which were as blue as the clear Caribbean Sea.

“Then your mom is…
” Sara stammered, wringing her hands. “You are…”

“A mermaid.”

“But…” Sara’s brows pinched together as she looked at Gretchen’s legs. “You don’t have a tail.”

“Not on land.”

“You mean, you can change?”

Gretchen nodded.

“Did my dad give you that gift?”

“I was born with it.”

“Really? You can change?” Sara reached out as if she might touch Gretchen’s knee, but jerked her hand back before she could. “Good grief. I guess I wasn’t the lucky one.”

“I’m sorry
,” Gretchen said. “I wish you had been.”

“Oh
.” Sara shook herself out of a stupor as she looked at her friend. “Don’t listen to me. Here I am feeling sorry for myself when it’s your story that’s important. Is your birth mom still alive?”

“Unfortunately. By the way, how
’s your injury? Did it heal all right?”

Sara rubbed her side.
“Oh, I’ve been fine for days.”

“I
’m really sorry you got shot. It should have been me.” Gretchen frowned at the regret that clenched her heart.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sara said
, smiling. “I couldn’t let my niece get shot.”