Enslaved (The Inbetween Novels) (31 page)

“God damn it.” A sob caught in her throat. Tears flooded her eyes no matter how hard she fought them off.

“Shayla,” Deryck called. “If you can scoot closer, I will help you stand.”

She swiped at the tears blinding her and looked at Deryck, really looked at him. Shayla searched his face for the truth. Without his help, she’d be forced to do things she didn’t want to do with Herryk. After, he’d likely kill her and be done with it. She’d heard too much, though none of it made sense. But if they really were some kind of gods, they couldn’t allow a human to run around babbling about how one of them abducted, enslaved, and raped her. No, Herryk had to kill her. Marduk’s temple would become her tomb and no one would know. Her friends, what few she had, would never be able to say goodbye and bury her body. It’d be a necrotic wound, eating at them any time they saw something reminding them of her. Grief did that, haunted you better than any Casper knock-off. She knew all too well, it’d dogged her steps since the day Cyrus died—supposedly died.

Deryck reached for her. The chain clinked softly. “Please, Shayla. Before he heals. And he will heal. It is very difficult to kill one of us.” He parted the bloody hole in his shirt to show her where Herryk had stabbed him. The wound had shrunk to a thin red blotch.

She swallowed the panic rising in her throat. It wasn’t too surprising that they could heal fast, but seeing the proof further sealed her fate. “Okay.”

As carefully as possibly, Shayla scooted over to Deryck. Her good arm shook by the time she made it and she wasn’t entirely sure her legs would hold her up any longer, certainly not in the heels. Reaching down, she unbuckled the straps and slid her shoes off; the right shoe left her hand stained dark red. Shayla wiped it off, adding to the mess covering her dress. The fabric clung to her hand. For a second, she thought she was going to throw up.

Deryck’s arms came around her waist. Every muscle in Shayla’s body tensed. “I won’t hurt you.” His breath across the back of her neck did not help her relax at all.

Gently, Deryck pulled Shayla to her feet. Her knees wobbled dangerously when she tried to step out of his arms. He caught her around the waist and cradled her against his body. If Deryck moved, she’d fall flat on her ass.

She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The trembling in her legs slowed. Shayla took a half step away from Deryck, fighting hard to ignore the way the blood on her legs made them stick together. “Thank you, Deryck.”

He kept a hand on her back until she stepped out of reach. “You’re welcome. Shayla, you’ve got to run. Get out of here.”

Where will I go?
She didn’t dare speak the question echoing through her mind. Instead, Shayla nodded and took a step toward the only doorway in the room. What she did after she made it out of the temple was something she’d have to deal with when the time came. Priority number one was getting away from the psychotic, sex-crazed demi-god she’d injured. With each step she took, Shayla prayed Herryk stayed down for the count.

“Not so fast, little girl.”

The sound of Herryk’s voice stopped Shayla dead in her tracks. She didn’t want to turn around and face him. Likewise, she didn’t want him creeping up to grab her from behind. No matter what angle she looked at her situation from, she was screwed. Utterly and totally screwed.

She glanced over her shoulder. Herryk used the edge of the table to pull himself upright. The front of his shirt was soaked; the flames at the back of the table reflected in the blood covering him from neck to navel. He shuffled her way, hands dragging across the gold, smearing it with red.

“You won’t see the sky again, Shayla, we both know it. Make it easier on yourself and give me what I want. If it’s good, I may be convinced to spare you.”

Despite the blood loss, he was still aroused. Her gaze fell on the front of his pants and would not move away. He stepped closer and closer. Her legs were slow to realize they should be running.

Shayla turned toward the door and ran. She made it two yards and suddenly Herryk was there, blocking her path. Unwilling to let him touch her in any way, she backpedaled out of his reach and changed course back into the rear of the temple.
Wrong way, wrong way,
her mind screamed. Unfortunately, it was the only option left.

Her big toe smacked into something hard and cold, sending whatever it was skittering over the floor. Shayla stopped and stared at the knife. This was her way out. But how would she grab it without Herryk knowing? An idea popped into her head and she knew she’d regret it.

Turning, she found Herryk charging her way. “Will you send me home if I cooperate?”

He stopped so close she felt his rapid breath brush over her arms. Herryk’s dark eyes narrowed. “No. I will keep you around to fuck whenever I feel like.”

“So you’ll turn me into a slave.” She paused, pretending to consider his proposal. “You’d have better luck trying to fuck yourself in the ass.”

The blow to her cheek happened so fast, she didn’t have a chance to brace herself. Shayla dropped to the ground. Her face throbbed from the teeth out. Blood pooled inside of her cheek and she spat it on the bricks. The knife lay beside her hip. She scooped it up and held it against her thigh as she struggled to stand.

“Leave her alone, Herryk. There are millions of women for you in this realm, some who may even be willing to sleep with you,” Deryck yelled.

“They didn’t do this to me. If she read the summoning as I instructed, none of this would’ve happened and I’d be free to do whatever I wanted.” Herryk turned to her again. “You owe me.”

Don’t let him talk . . . .
Shayla widened her feet, bracing herself for the attack. “You only have yourself to blame, Herryk.”

She gripped the knife tight and swung it from her hip in an arc over her head. The blade bit into Herryk’s cheek below his left eye. Shayla put her weight behind it and dragged the knife diagonally across his face. His cheek, lips, and chin split. Bone and teeth peeked through the wound. And then the blood came. It poured down like rain, soaking the remaining dry spots on his dress shirt.

Herryk’s hand flew to his cheek. He said something, but it came out slurred and incomprehensible.
He isn’t falling. Oh God. I’m going to die now.

Not even several millennia serving as a sex slave to whoever happened to be horny when they fell asleep, or intentionally sought out an incubus to pleasure them, could have prepared Deryck for the torment he endured watching Shayla fight off Herryk on her own. He should have gotten her out of there when they had the chance. But no, he took her feelings into consideration instead of throwing her over his shoulder and getting the hell out of the temple. He’d tried to help, coaching her from his vantage point. Nothing he said could help her escape a man far larger, stronger, and possessing far more active magic than the latent magic she possessed after Eros’ interference in her life. Barring a scenario like one he’d seen in the movie she shared with him, Shayla would die. And they were fresh out of accidental gamma radiation exposure supplies.

Keeping an eye on Herryk—who stood stalk still, surprise and pain etched across his bleeding face—and Shayla, Deryck knelt and wrapped his hand around the chain holding him near the pin embedded in the floor. He needed to take advantage of the distraction—Herryk couldn’t use magic to hold the pin in the ancient brick while focusing energy on healing his wounds. Bracing himself, Deryck pulled on the chain. Metal links dug into his hand. His lower back and shoulders screamed in agony. The brick around the stake crumbled. The stake remained embedded in the floor. Deryck stopped pulling and jerked the chain back and forth, wiggling the pin to widen the hole as much as possible. More brick broke away.

“Stay away, or I’ll give you a matching cut on the other side, Herryk.” Shayla’s voice shook.

Deryck looked up. Herryk’s bleeding had slowed. His shoulders straightened and his tongue toyed with the jagged edge of skin at the side of his bottom lip. “Dare you.”

Time was up. Deryck squatted down, tightened his grip on the chain, and put all of his energy into pulling. It held firm, mocking him. Cursing, he wrapped the chain around his hand one more time and jerked so hard, he thought he’d dislocate his shoulder. The stake popped free, sending chunks of brick spraying over the floor.

“This shit ends now.” Deryck dropped the chain.

Herryk grabbed Shayla’s wrist and squeezed so hard, her skin lost all color where his fingers dug in. The knife clattered to the floor. He kicked it under the altar. Shayla kneed him in the stomach and wrenched in his grasp. Herryk held on tight. She shoved him. They tripped over each other and hit the golden altar hard enough to raise the front legs off the floor.

Deryck closed in on them. He grabbed Shayla by the waist and pulled her away from Herryk, glad the other man’s body blocked her from hitting the table directly.

Herryk spit a clot of blood at her. It dripped down her chest. “You’re going to die, woman.”

“You first.” She leaned back against Deryck and brought her legs up. Her feet slammed into Herryk’s stomach. He let out a grunt and dropped her arm. Deryck pushed her away and braced himself.

Herryk laughed. “He can’t save y—“The mocking tone in his voice warped into a scream of agony.

Blood spread over the table and spilled onto the floor. Deryck grabbed Shayla’s hand and made for the door. As he moved, he saw Marduk’s arm reaching from the portal, buried wrist-deep into Herryk’s back. Herryk slid across the table, pulled by his father toward the God’s Lands—an instant death sentence for the incubus.

“Don’t let him do this to me,” Herryk screamed over the crunch of breaking bones.

Deryck turned Shayla away, pressing her head against his chest and covering her exposed ear. “Listen to the sound of my heart, Shayla. Count the beats if you have to.”

She nodded. Tears trailed from her eyes and soaked into the front of his shirt. Shayla’s entire body shook. Herryk shrieked and she jumped in Deryck’s arms. He held her closer, but his eyes were on the man off to meet his doom.

Herryk’s body folded at an unnatural place—six inches above his hip joints—where Marduk held him. The back half of his body disappeared into the portal. In the human realm, they were fully corporeal. Their slave bands prevented them from becoming non-corporeal and utilizing natural or magically created gateways between the realms. They had the power to move through the realms, but only as decreed. Marduk planned to drag Herryk straight into the middle of the Babylonian section of the God’s Lands.

Herryk gave one last scream. The sound was muffled as the portal swallowed his head. His feet kicked against the table in a last attempt to free himself.

“His father will ensure he never bothers you again,” Deryck whispered into Shayla’s ear.

“Does he care that much about anyone other than himself?” Shayla turned her head toward the table.

Deryck turned their bodies to prevent her from seeing the horror. “Don’t look. It isn’t finished yet.

“No, Marduk doesn’t care. He is too ashamed to allow Herryk to live now and prove to the universe that his seed created a creature too weak to complete even the most basic unbinding ritual. Each incubus has a gift they’re allowed to retain—a gift from their fathers. Herryk’s was magic. The ritual should have succeeded.”