Enslaved by the Others (18 page)

In minutes, she had the balls frying in a pan, flattening them with a spatula in one hand as she shook an admonishing finger from the other at me when she caught me staring. “Don’t look at me like that. You Americans and your hang-ups on relationships and sex are so beyond me, you know that? Don’t question a good thing. Enjoy what you have with him while it lasts. I may not live in New York anymore, but I remember enough of what he was like to know that he must feel more than just a bit of tingling in his dangly bits for you to go to as much trouble as he has. Here, eat this while it’s hot.”

She set a plate before me with a large, thick pancake in the center. I took advantage of this ready-made excuse not to put my foot in my mouth by filling it with something else. Picking up the pancake with my fingers since she didn’t give me any utensils with the plate, I took a big bite. Though it scalded my tongue, the outside was crunchy and the inside tasted like sweet, gooey, cinnamon-sugar heaven.

Clearly she was pleased with my sounds of approval. Before I knew it, my plate was heaped with three more of the treats. She made a plate for herself and settled down next to me, and the two of us ate together in companionable silence. Except for the phone ringing in the other room again, which she continued to ignore.

After we ate, she gave me a tour of the rest of her home, abbreviated when she noticed how I grimaced with every other step. She sent me into a large, luxurious bathroom with a walk-in shower, Jacuzzi bathtub, and hand-painted tile with scenes of bamboo groves and more of that fox thing that was on all of the art in her living room. She gave me a pile of pink, fluffy towels and a clean pair of sweats she thought might fit me. I would have to roll the cuffs of the pants up to my ears, but aside from that, it was more than I could have asked for. She waved off my attempts at gratitude and left me to clean up after myself.

No doubt, Kumiho had given me a lot to think about where Royce was concerned, but I agreed with her that I didn’t need to analyze his motives that deeply. She was right. He must have felt more for me than just a spate of lust, or even some sense of obligation because I had saved his life. Whatever it was he felt for me, it had to be more complicated than simple desire, and I would make it a point to ask him about it as soon as we were face-to-face again.

The hot water helped soothe a lot of the immediate aches, though the mark on my hip stung like crazy when I unthinkingly turned my left side into the shower spray. Even the cut on my hand didn’t hurt that badly when I put soap on it. Gritting my teeth, I hurried the rest of my business, washing my hair and scrubbing the remaining blood, dirt, and dried sweat off everywhere else.

Though I felt much better, I was exhausted by the time I was done toweling dry and dressing myself. Wrapping my hair in a towel, I shuffled out of the bathroom, giving her the dirty clothes in my arms.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I’m going to throw these out. Girlfriend, the minute you feel up to it, I’m taking you shopping to fix that wardrobe issue.”

I gave her a weak grin and went back to collapse on the couch again, throwing my arm over my eyes to block out the sun. The sounds of her puttering around went distant as she moved deeper into the house, then stopped altogether when her ringtone shattered the quiet for the umpteenth time.

This time she must have picked up. The rise and fall of her voice nearly soothed me to sleep, at least until she came back into the living room and leaned over the back of the couch to give my shoulder a light poke.

“Testicles McGee is on the phone for you.” Kumiho covered the mouthpiece with her hand before handing me the phone, whispering her next words and adding a wide grin and a suggestive brow waggle. “You’ll have to tell me your secret. He’s totally smitten. Since you’ve been up, he’s been calling every fifteen minutes to check on you, I swear. I held him off as long as I could.”

I was so exhausted, I couldn’t find the energy to laugh. The thought of Royce being so worried about me also did plenty to raise my flagging spirits and filled me with a deep, fuzzy kind of warmth. I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, closing my eyes. “I’m here.”

“Did she just call me what I think she did?”

“Yes. What, you don’t think you make a good hero from a romance novel?”

Royce made a gruff sound, neither disputing nor denying the idea. It was the first time—probably the only time—I ever thought of anything about him as adorable.

“Speaking of which, when are you going to come here to sweep me off my feet? And help me get Sara back?”

He hesitated. “Shiarra, I’m sorry. I’m not able to leave New York right now.”

That stunned me silent.

“You won’t be alone,” he continued, regret coloring his tone. “I wish I could be by your side right now, but there are too many issues here for me to come to you. I’ll be sending help to rescue her, but I want you on the road back to New York as soon as possible. I can send a plane or helicopter to pick you up once you cross the state line into Kentucky.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” I barely managed to get the words out from behind the forming lump in my throat. “You can’t seriously be asking me to leave her behind.”

“I’m not asking you to leave her behind. I’m asking you to come to safety and let my people and your mage friend take over to get her out of there. I don’t want you putting yourself back in danger, and I can’t afford to have traces of my bloodline found in connection with what Max has brought down upon himself.”

“No. I’m not leaving without Sara.”

“Shiarra, going back would be suicide. I might never get you out of his hands—”

“No. Don’t even say it. Don’t even think it. I won’t go in alone, but I can’t leave her there. Not after . . . I can’t.”

Royce growled, the sound garbled and staticky over the phone. “Stay where you are. Don’t go charging in.”

“I don’t think I can walk without help, let alone charge off to rescue Sara. Besides, I’m not stupid or suicidal.” I paused. “You’re really not coming?” My voice was thin, strained, even to my own ears.

“I cannot. If I leave now, Max or one of my other enemies will seize the opportunity to move in on my territory. Aside from which, I can’t have our sire believing me directly responsible for any harm that may come to him.”

That didn’t sound very good. While both Max and Royce had made passing mentions of the vampire who turned them in the past, I had never given her much thought. Considering he ruled three states, I had thought Royce was beyond answering to anyone but himself anymore. I wondered what Athena must have thought about Max’s attack on New York and his attempt to kill Royce, before shaking my head and concentrating on the issue at hand.

“I don’t want to go back there, but I’ve got to do something to help Sara. To stop Max. I feel so useless, and I don’t know what to do—”

“Don’t worry,” he cut in before I could get too worked up. “The arrangements have been made. You’ll stay with Soo-Jin while the others collect Ms. Halloway. You’ll both return to New York, safe and whole.”

Whole. Something I would never be again. I didn’t say it, nor did I voice how betrayed I felt that he wouldn’t ride in with the setting sun to save me. It was irrational, and I knew it, but it still stung that he chose to let someone else do the dirty work.

“I feel your pain, my little hunter. Don’t fret. You’re safe now, and Ms. Halloway will be soon, as well.”

That didn’t do much to make me feel better, but I wasn’t going to argue. The important thing was getting Sara free, not me doing something foolish to endanger myself or my new friends. Even if Royce wasn’t there, with Arnold’s help I had no doubt we’d get Sara out. It was saving everyone else who was trapped there, and putting a permanent halt to Max’s slave trading business, that worried me.

It took a bit of courage to get my next words out, knowing I was asking a lot more of Royce than he owed me or Sara. If he chose not to help me get everyone else out, I hoped Arnold might feel differently.

“I need you to tell Arnold to bring whatever he needs to remove a collar like the ones on Christoph and Ashi.”

Royce paused. The smooth, deliberate tone to his next words told me he was pulling on his I-know-better-than-you pants and felt I was treading on dangerous ground. “You may think Christoph or even Ashi might help you, but let me assure you, the moment those collars come off—”

“I didn’t say I wanted them to come along for the party,” I said, interrupting. “There’s someone else. She’s trapped in there, too. Probably more than just one Other, considering what I saw, plus a bunch of normal people who don’t deserve what’s happened to them.”

“The other humans you mention are one thing. I was intending to have any other captives my people came across brought back here. However,” Royce continued, still choosing his words with care, “I may not always agree with Max, but if he has an Other wearing a collar that suppresses magic or shapeshifting, it’s probably for very good reason. Removing it may not be wise.”

“That’s true, but she helped me when she didn’t have to. She’s probably not going to be a danger to anyone but Max. Besides, I promised I would help her.”

He made a soft, frustrated sound. “Very well. I’ll pass on the request. What is she? Do you know?”

“No,” I replied, trying to hide my embarrassment. I could practically feel his disapproval radiating through the phone. “Her name is Iana, if that helps. She mentioned being with him since a police riot or something.”

“The police strike in Boston?” The disapproval turned to alarm. “I thought she was dead. She cannot be released. Keep your distance from her if she ever finds her freedom.”

“She might be dangerous, but she’s my friend, and she’s more broken than anyone I’ve ever met. I made a promise to her and I’m keeping it.”

Royce didn’t respond immediately. I held my breath, praying he would understand how important it was to me to keep my word to Iana. Out of all of the people in Max’s menagerie of slaves, she was the only one who had done anything to help me or show me any compassion while I was there. Something about the thought of her being left that way, trapped forever as something she wasn’t, rankled too deeply for me to shrug off my promise to help her.

“As you wish,” he said.

If only it hadn’t sounded like a condemnation.

Chapter Seventeen

Royce didn’t keep me on the phone long after that. He asked to speak to Kumiho, who took the phone with an exaggerated eye roll and flapped her other hand in the universal gesture for talking too much. Her antics did dredge a smile out of me, even if I wasn’t feeling too great just then. Her expression soon shifted to one that looked too serious for her candy-coated exterior and she moved away from me, disappearing into the hallway, an unseen door soon shutting with a quiet
click
behind her.

Whether Royce was asking more favors of her or giving her some instruction to sit on me to keep me from pulling a Lone Ranger, it didn’t matter. I had talked about this with Sara while we were in Los Angeles. I was going to do what I could to be smarter about how I dealt with my problems. Rushing in, as Royce had said, would be suicide. Even if he was plotting with Kumiho to keep me out of the action, for once I would consider those plans without disregarding them on their face.

I could admit to myself that I wasn’t strong enough to face Max alone and maybe not even with an army at my back. The thought of being in the same room with him again filled me with a terror so deep that the constant, minor trembles in my hands became full-body spastic shudders. Though I wanted to be brave and strong, to think that I was capable of better, I knew the limits of my courage.

Taking a deep breath to quell the growing fear and frustration, I finally did what I had been avoiding since it happened.

I peeled the loose shirt and pants off my left side to see how badly I had been burned. The brand didn’t hurt the way it had yesterday. It had subsided to a dull heat that grew into a sharp burn when I moved in a way that rubbed or pulled the damaged skin, but it was still an ugly, irritated red around the edges. The mark itself was a mottled indentation of black and red, with a touch of yellow.

The scar it would leave would be a permanent reminder that my time with Max was not some impossible, horrible nightmare. That bird and that circle of olive leaves, once the symbol of the currency of Max’s homeland, was now a symbol of how
I
was some form of currency to him. Property. The sight of it fixed me with a confusing mix of fear and fury and a hollow emptiness, but there wasn’t anything I could do to erase it.

He hadn’t been lying. No matter how long I lived, I could never, ever forget.

A box of tissues landed in my lap. I jumped, stifling a scream and scrambling to adjust the clothes to cover up the mark.

“You looked like you could use them.”

Kumiho padded on silent feet to the kitchen, leaving me to wipe my shame away in relative privacy. I wanted to promise myself that these would be the last tears I would shed over what Max had done to me, but I knew that promise would be a lie. There was so much about it that hurt, more than I had words for, more than what was etched into my skin.

It took a bit of time for me to shove that hurt back into a locked box and bury it in the region of my heart. The discontent stayed there, lodged deep in my chest, ready to burst open again at any moment—but I would keep it hidden away for as long as I could.

Dashing the last of my tears away with a wad of tissues, I took a deep breath, held it until my lungs felt they would burst, then let it out. Thus composed, I got back to my feet and limped to the kitchen, leaning my good hip against the counter.

Kumiho turned, looking me up and down as though she’d never seen me before. Maybe she was seeing me with new eyes after whatever Royce had discussed with her.

“Well. Apparently I am to be your bodyguard for a bit longer than expected,” she said. “The war has reached my doorstep, whether I wish it or not.”

“War? What war?”