Skin Deep (7 page)

Shrugging off the unnerving sensation, she hurried toward the deli, sending a sharp warning Kira’s way to calm her tail. She placed her order and waited quietly. Her thoughts drifted toward Connor and the delicious meal he’d made last night.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the strange man heading for the baked goods. His gaze met hers as he opened the glass doors. Was he following her? Something about him didn’t feel right. She broke eye contact as Kira’s nails bit into her upper back. By the time her order was ready, she’d lost sight of the man. Almost as if he’d vanished.

Kira brushed her furry body along her back affectionately before curling up for a catnap. The energy she expended keeping Kira awake didn’t seem necessary right now. Blowing out a soft breath and giving a final, rumbling purr, Kira stilled into a normal tattoo on her lower back.

Loneliness crept into Angelique’s heart as it always did when Kira was inactive.

With all the groceries in bags tucked under her arms, Angelique searched for the payphones. She found them lining a wall a few feet from the front doors. The bags slid from her arms when she dug through her purse for change. She punched in Connor’s number with a shaky finger and prayed that she had it right. After a few moments, his strong, masculine voice came through the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Angelique, where are—”

“Listen, I’m sorry about yesterday.” The words spilled out of her mouth. “I should have handled things better. It was…just a little too much at one time.” She closed her eyes, waiting for his response.

Part of her felt desperation to have him back, yet she still was intimidated by the fact that he was a werewolf. She’d thought his kind was only of myths, folklore, and movies. The fact she possessed her own gift seemed hypercritical. But she’d never encountered someone else with gifts. She’d felt so alone and different, finding this out about him made her love even stronger. Hope flared in her heart for the first time in years.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry as well. I could’ve done things differently too. Monica threw me completely off.” Connor sounded wearier than he had last night.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the strange man leaving the store. He glanced around as if looking for someone, and then he fixed his gaze on her. He headed in her direction, while Connor talked about how he’d found her home trashed by Monica. The man walked past, glaring with a mix of anger and annoyance on his face. What had she done to him? He crossed the road toward the parking lot, vanishing behind a van.

“Angelique?” His concerned voice startled her. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Just distracted from, well, the people around here.”

“I was just asking where you were earlier.”

“Oh, right.” She hadn’t heard him ask his question, but she needed to keep a close eye on her surroundings. “When Monica came by earlier, I slipped away. I didn’t want to deal with her, and she seemed a little unstable when she was at my house. I had a head start, but she still found me.” Her voice trembled more as she remembered the incident from earlier. “She, uh, she’s set on getting me out of the way.” Sudden movement near the van drew her attention. Two men hopped out from behind it. One was the strange man from the store. He jabbed a finger into the other man’s chest. The second man looked very familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

“I think I’m being followed,” she said, lowering her voice. Her mind flashed back to this morning and the man parked in front of her house. That was him. He’d been there until right before Monica had arrived.

“Where are you?” All traces of exhaustion completely vanished from Connor’s tone.

She looked around until she saw the name of the plaza. “I’m at Crossroads Shopping Plaza. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay here. There’s a guy who was watching me in the store, and then another man who was in front of my house this morning.” She kept her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re still in the suburbs. Take highway 70 north until you get to exit 293. There’s a decent motel there.”

“Thanks. I’ll head up there now.” She slid into her jacket, feeling incredibly vulnerable and freaked out again. The men were still there, looking confrontational and unhappy with each other. She couldn’t catch what they were saying.

“Call me when you get settled in, and I’ll be on my way. I don’t live too far away from there.” His voice soothed her. “I’m not home right now, but I have to pick something up from my house.”

“I will.” She was about to hang up the phone, but his voice stopped her.

“Stay safe, sweetheart. I couldn’t imagine losing you.”

The dial tone beeped in her ear, and she set the phone on the hook. She couldn’t imagine losing him either.

Glancing where the two men had been arguing, she didn’t see either of them anymore. That didn’t bode well, right? Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding, but she highly doubted that.

Chapter Seven

Angelique grabbed her grocery bags from the backseat as she eyed the small motel. So far, Connor was right. It did look decent. The building’s walls were white, but faint evidence of spray-painted graffiti showed from underneath the coat of paint. Only the sound of traffic spoiled the quiet of the parking lot. Hopefully the inside was kept to the same standard.

She clicked the remote on her keychain, locking her car as she strode toward the motel’s office.

Inside, the office had white ceramic tile and dull brown wallpaper, but it was clean. The lingering scent of bleach filled the air. A man sat reading the newspaper behind reinforced glass stretching from the counter to the ceiling. Somehow, she knew he was watching her. A piece of paper taped to the glass listed the hotel’s affordable rates. At least this hotel didn’t seem to be run by someone whose reading material of choice was X-rated.

“Hey,” she said, her voice a little breathy. “I’d like a room for the night.” Her gaze went back to the list. “One with a double bed.” She reached into her purse and pulled out cash. The man on the other side of the glass set his newspaper aside. He typed on the old computer before looking at her directly. Other than asking the usual check-in questions, he remained quiet. He seemed cautious not to gather any extra details from her. Nice, but somewhat odd.

Grabbing the key, she thanked him and then headed out to find her room, which was on the first floor. She moved her car, parking near a set of nicely trimmed bushes. Sounds of splashing and young kids yipping in excitement came from the pool in the inner courtyard. Normally, she would’ve been interested in going to the pool, but she was too exhausted, tense, and paranoid.

Angelique opened the door to her room. She put the groceries on the small, round table next to the bed. The dated furnishings reminded her of reruns from the seventies, but at least it was tidy. She bolted the door behind her before heading to the phone.

Before she could call Connor back, a soft knock on the door stopped her. Who could that be? Surely, it wasn’t the hotel staff. Her gaze shifted to the door, and to her horror, black veins of rotting wood spread out across the dull, white surface.

Kira woke up, tense and alert, ready to leap from Angelique’s skin and attack. Angelique held her back. No telling what waited for them on the other side.

She turned her attention back to the phone, frantically punching in Connor’s number. She’d managed the first five digits when the door exploded inward as if a hurricane had blown it in. Shielding her face, she struggled to maintain her footing. The wind died down, but she didn’t have a chance to finish dialing.

The strange man from the store ripped the phone cord out of the wall. He grinned at her. “No use calling for help now.” He slammed his fist into her stomach, and her breath surged from her lungs in a gasp. From her hunched-over position, she watched the man pop his knuckles and stretch his muscled arms.

“Cooperate and this will be over quickly. Don’t…and well, I can’t promise you’ll survive the night.” His voice had an accent. While she wasn’t shabby with placing accents, his sounded purely Celtic, not Irish, and not Scottish. Very old world. “Shall we begin? I won’t bother telling you my real name. You can call me Mahon.”

Her skin crawled with fear in remembrance of her family’s warning. They’d told her of hunters, but there hadn’t been one in so long. Her gift was a blessing and a curse wrapped in one.

She put her fists up in a fighting stance and kicked him above the knee. The man danced back a few steps. His face registered the pain, but she doubted she’d hurt him much. Kira perched on her shoulder, growling and eager to defend them, but Angelique kept her focus on the man in front of her. Until she knew what this man wanted, she wouldn’t put Kira at risk.

Anger tightened Mahon’s eyes and drew his lips away from white teeth. Snarling, he backhanded her.

She fell into the bed, rolling onto her hands and knees. Pain lanced her side, and she placed one hand against it carefully as she struggled to her feet.

Mahon mumbled a word she couldn’t quite understand. A ring of light appeared over his hands. He jabbed his fingers forward, throwing the ring at her. Heat wafted off it in waves.

She lunged to the side, almost managing to move out of the way, but it hit her arm. The impact of it pushed her off balance, knocking her to the floor. Before she could get her bearings back, he grabbed her wrists, dragging her up and onto the middle of the bed. His power bit into her skin with untamed energy.

Kira reached out, claws extended, but the big cat suddenly pulled back, as if driven off by an unseen force.

He stretched her hands near the wooden headboard and closed his eyes, mumbling a few more words. Creaks and groans jerked her attention up, and she saw the wood stretching and winding around her wrists. Struggling did little to help.

Mahon leaned back far enough to look her over. His hand brushed the exposed skin of her midriff where her shirt had ridden up. “Lovely skin you have there. Shame you decided not to make this easier on both of us.”

She jerked underneath him, not wanting him to touch her. “Screw you. Why are you doing this to me?”

He held his palm out facing the open doorway. Vines and branches crept toward the hole, sliding up and blocking it until no one could get in or out without a sturdy ax. From his jacket, he retrieved a set of knives and other wicked looking tools, carefully laying them out beside her. “You have a mouth on you. Women of my day wouldn’t talk to a man like that. Times have certainly changed.” He picked up a sharp knife, looking at its blade as he continued, “These kinds of tattoos don’t leave their owner. They must be given. Sure, I could take it, but it would be useless.”

Kira moved back to Angelique’s lower back, keeping herself out of sight. It wasn’t often her familiar did that. Somehow, Angelique got the impression Kira knew what this guy was.

Mahon lowered the jagged-edged knife toward her, and her eyes widened. He slid it under the fabric of her shirt, slicing it open. “You will give me your power, even if it is the last thing you do. I have done things to make people beg and promise anything just to end the momentary pain.” Sighing, he brushed aside the ripped shirt. He set aside the knife in the neat row he’d made and retrieved a small flask.

His fingers delicately brushed the area around her bruise. “Nasty looking injury.” He brought one of the bottles closer so she could see. Inside were ants almost as big as her thumbs. He retrieved one of them, which serenely sat on his palm. He gave her a good view, and then he lowered the ant near the wound.

She struggled, moving her waist despite the agony to her side. Her bound hands prevented her from getting far.

Mahon pressed his hand onto her lower stomach, restricting her movement. She kicked her legs, but he started whispering foreign words. Something twisted over her ankles and held them still. A bright flash of pain shot through her torso as the ant stung her side, setting off warning bells in her head. The intense anguish went on for what felt like hours. Her vision darkened into a tunnel of light.

The man picked up one of the knives. With her eyes squeezed shut, she stayed awake and aware. She waited for the sting of him slicing into her, but it never came. A snapping sound piqued her curiosity, and she slowly opened her eyes. The druid held up the chopped corpse of the ant. Its head cleanly removed from the neck.

“Some tribes use ants to make nice stitches by placing the pinchers against the flesh and having the ant bite.” He shrugged. “Not that you need any.” He looked back at the body of the ant and chuckled. “Bullet ants aren’t normally used in that capacity, but they pack a nice punch, don’t you agree? Oh, and your screaming won’t help you. The silence spell I put around this room won’t let out a peep.”

Had she screamed? Her mouth was open, but the pain had blocked out everything else. She shut her mouth, trying to regain some composure.

“There is a way to stop the agony. Just give me your gift. The pain will go away.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

Kira shivered on her lower back, and Angelique sent comfort to her. She’d never give up her familiar. As far as she knew, if they parted, they would both die. “Never.”

“You’ll wish you had relented. I promise.” He patted his hand against her cheek before sliding out another ant. “When these are gone, I’ll resort to another method. By then, you’ll be begging me for death, which I’ll grant. After I receive your power.”

One ant bite followed another during the twenty-something minutes of agony. He only had three bullet ants left, but he set the small bottle on the end table and then cracked his knuckles.

Breaths ripped from her lungs as she gasped for air. Her throat hurt, and she found herself making sounds no human should make.

“So, I’ll renew my offer. Just—” A sudden blast of Wagner’s
Ride of the Valkyries
cut off Mahon’s words, making them both tense. He stood and walked toward the bathroom to answer his cell.

Angelique could see now that vines from the door had encircled her ankles and feet. Kira moved, brushing her warm fur against Angelique as sympathetic feelings washed over her. Kira’s resolve to do something picked up with the distance from Mahon. She no longer reminded Angelique of a scared kitten.