Stolen Desire (Outlawed Realm) (19 page)

“If he’s still there.”

“Where else would he be? Would the other guards drag him back into the post?”

“Only to strip him of his weapons, then they’d toss him back outside for the creatures to eat. They may have done so already.”

She curled her upper lip in revulsion.

“Even if he’s still there,” Zekin added, “his fingers broke off.”

She shivered as though recalling that moment, then shook her head. “Only one hand. Maybe his other is all right. Could be the monsters haven’t eaten it.”

Zekin would know in time. He put out his hand to keep Paige back. “Stay here while I—”

“No.” She grabbed his fingers. “I’m not arguing,” she added quickly. “What am I supposed to do if something happens to you? If we’re not going to make it, I’d rather we do that together instead of alone.”

Zekin gripped her shoulder. “Don’t talk that way.”

“Then don’t leave me. Not for a second. Please. Promise me that.”

He promised nothing but did pull her along. Cautiously, Zekin approached the outpost, making certain Paige remained behind him, protected by his body. Drifts from the relentless wind covered one side of the building. The realm’s creatures had left tracks in the fresh snow.

The dead he and Paige had seen earlier were no longer intact, their torsos ripped open, organs consumed along with their heads. One or more predators had torn limbs from most of them. Those arms and legs were missing, most likely buried beneath snow as the creatures concentrated on the more nutritious bellies and brains. Zekin knew he and Paige had no choice except to wait for a guard to exit the building. He headed for another drift for them to hide behind.

Paige breathed in sharply when she saw the carnage.

“What are you doing?” Zekin growled. He grabbed Paige’s upper arm to keep her from moving any closer to the outpost.

“There’s a hand out there near one of the bodies.” She pointed.

Squinting, Zekin saw what she had. “It might not be the guard’s.”

“Who else could it belong to? Look at how thick and short the fingers are. It has to be his.”

“I’ll go check.” He released her arm.

“Not without me.” She grasped his hand. “I’m going with you. I’ll lag behind,” she promised, “and cover you with the weapons just in case anyone shows up or comes out of the building.”

Zekin wanted to argue with her. He was of a mind to push her back and sprint to the outpost, but knew she’d only follow. “Stay close to the drift. Do not stand out in the open, understand?”

“I’m just going to keep you in sight, that’s all.”

With little choice except to trust what she’d promised, Zekin pulled out his blue weapon. Seeing it, Paige took out both of hers.

He should have reminded her to count the darts fired from the red one—making certain to leave one for herself—but couldn’t bring himself to do so. The thought of losing Paige to death was impossible for Zekin to comprehend. Pain unlike any he’d known gripped his belly and tightened his chest. He slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

Before she could respond, he released her and bolted toward the outpost. His attention darted between the building and the hand, slightly clawed in death, yet the fingers were intact. He turned to the drift where he’d left Paige. She bounced in place, watching him. Worrying over him.

Zekin suppressed a smile and a sigh. He gestured for her to stay where she was. After scooping up the severed hand, Zekin brought it to the outside panel. When he pressed it to the metal surface, the digits made snapping sounds. He froze at the noise and immediately eased up so the fingers wouldn’t break off and fall away.

As he counted the passing seconds, sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip, making the facemask seem even more restrictive.
Come on,
he ordered the locking mechanism.
Open.

To his surprise, the seal finally broke. Zekin kept the hand—so they could get back outside—and opened the door, then turned at Paige rushing toward him. She inhaled sharply as Zekin hurried her inside. The guards’ bodies that had been there earlier were gone. Flames from the candles bobbed crazily, creating hideous shadows on the stone walls. Zekin rushed down the hall, pulling her with him, until he heard something.

Faint tapping sounds from deep within the structure. Footfalls.

She must have heard the same. When Zekin tried to push Paige into one of the empty rooms to hide her, she resisted and spoke quickly. “All we have is the element of surprise. If there’s more than one, they may be able to call for help. God knows how many will show up. We might not be able to fight them off. If they see only me, I can distract them while you fire from one of those other rooms. Go on.” She pointed.

Zekin didn’t budge.

“Please,” she begged. “They’re almost here.”

The footfalls grew closer, the sharp claps echoing through the stone hallway, making it impossible to tell how many guards approached.

Paige pressed the seam on her shoulder, removing her facemask and lowering the fabric to reveal her hair. She stood with her hands behind her, hiding her weapons.

Zekin hesitated. She mouthed,
Take off your facemask.

Once he had, she whispered, “We can’t fight them if we don’t use surprise.”

Her reasoning and bravery astounded Zekin. It also made him want to shout that he didn’t approve of her doing any of this. Gritting his teeth, he sprinted down the hall in the direction of the footfalls. Behind him, Paige sucked in a breath. Before she could call out to him, saying he was going the wrong way, he ducked into a side room, empty except for chains bolted to the ceiling and instruments of punishment hanging from the walls.

Hidden in the shadows, Zekin waited, his pulse keeping time with the slap of shoes on the hard floor. At last, two guards passed his door and stopped abruptly, no doubt seeing Paige.

Zekin strained to hear more footfalls, but didn’t.

One of the guards spoke, using Zekin’s language. “Who is that? What’s she wearing? Where did she get it?”

“How did she get inside?” the other asked.

“Did Raaabe bring her here?”

“If he did, where is he?” the second one asked. “Why isn’t he with her?”

“Could he have pushed her through the portal and remained to collect another female?”

“When he’s never done that before? No. He’s still on E1, I can feel it. He won’t return until he finds a woman for Vakar to play with, and perhaps another for us.”

“What about the other men? Could they have brought her here?”

“They’re sleeping in their rooms. Just as you and I were, Wollum. Awaiting Raaabe’s return.”

“Well, she must have come from somewhere.”

“Yes, she must have. And we better find out how and why.”

Again, the footfalls rang out as they approached Paige. Zekin tensed, imagining her fear. Hearing it as she spoke.

“Who are you?” Her voice trembled. “Where am I? What is this place?”

She kept asking questions, no doubt trying to distract the guards. Wasting no time, Zekin crept into the hall from behind and fired both of his weapons. The red dart hit the man on the right at the base of his neck. The blue one pierced the thigh of the guard on the left. Both fell to their knees, then collapsed to the floor. One dead, the other drugged.

Zekin pulled a square of silvery-blue fabric from his suit and tossed it on the tranquilized guard. Within seconds, he was wrapped in a cocoon-like garment that didn’t allow his arms and legs any movement. Using the dead guard’s hand, Zekin opened the door. Snow and frigid air pushed inside.

“Hurry,” he said to Paige.

She stared at the dead guard, then glanced down the hall. “Shouldn’t we check to see if anyone’s being held prisoner here?”

There wasn’t time, not if he and Paige wanted to survive. He’d have to return later and hope he could rescue the next woman. “There is no one else,” he lied. “That’s what the guards were discussing when they saw you. We have to leave. Now. Before the others get here.”

Paige activated her facemask and backed out of the door into the frigid wind. Once Zekin was fully covered, he pulled the dart from the dead guard, hoisted the unconscious one on his shoulder and carried him from the building, making certain to drop the frozen hand where he’d found it.

Chapter Thirteen

Having delivered a new plaything to E4 for Vakar’s use, Raaabe had decided to return to the outpost empty-handed. Tired from his mission, he wanted nothing except food and drink, then sleep. He’d make another trip to E1 later, capturing a female for him and the other guards.

They’d complain, of course, at the wait. However, Vakar’s commands came well before theirs.

Raaabe’s satisfaction at finding an E1 woman who was young, lovely and small enough to be easily cowed—exactly the type of female Vakar preferred—evaporated when he spotted Yerto on the stone floor, clearly dead.

He circled his fellow guard, noting the small puddles of water near him. Spilled from a cup? No. Raaabe saw no container nearby. He glanced at the door, thinking of the snow and ice beyond, how those frigid substances would melt once in here. However, Yerto hadn’t been outside recently. He wore no furs. What’s more, no guard, no matter how dimwitted, would have braved the raw temperatures without them.

Raaabe studied Yerto’s body, searching for signs of an assault. Bruises. Arms or legs twisted in unnatural positions. Blood on the man’s head from someone having bashed it in.

There was no evidence of that.

Yerto seemed to have dropped where he stood, done in by the same thing that had felled other guards over the past months. On a hunch, Raaabe pushed aside the man’s hair, as curly and black as his own. In the fluttering candlelight, he saw a small pinprick on the back of Yerto’s neck. From a dart?

A quick search showed none nearby.

Even if someone had come here and shot Yerto, where was the projectile now? How had that unknown person gotten inside?

Two other guards entered the hall and stopped immediately, clearly stunned at yet another death of one from their ranks. Before they could ask anything, Raaabe ordered, “Bring the furs.”

Hoonton, the man on the right, asked, “You’re going outside?”

Raaabe resumed studying the body. “We’re all going out there.”

“Why?”

“To find out who did this.”

“Isn’t it clear?” Hoonton said. “Another guard has been attacking us all these months.”

Cudree, the man on the left, asked, “For what reason?”

“To steal our women. He’s set up his own outpost in a distant part of this realm.”

Cudree’s frown deepened. He glanced over his shoulder. “Has anyone seen Wollum recently?”

Hoonton ran down the hall, checking rooms. He returned within minutes. “Wollum’s not here. He must be the one who’s been doing this. He’s taking our women through the portal to his own lair.”

Raaabe focused on the small puddles leading away from Yerto’s body—a path that went straight to the outside door. “Bring the furs—
now
—unless you want to be the next victims. Like Yerto and Wollum.”

“You’ve seen his body?” Cudree asked.

Raaabe turned to the door. “It may be outside.”

Hoonton brought the furs, along with fabric to protect their faces and special eyewear so the frigid temperatures and blasting winds wouldn’t blind them. Together, they exited the outpost, their shoulders hunched, torsos and legs braced against the howling gale.

Body parts dotted the snowy landscape, evidence of attack from the realm’s creatures. Raaabe turned to Hoonton, shouting his question so the man could hear him above the wind’s scream. “When was the last time you saw Wollum?”

“No more than an hour ago.”

Enough time for a creature to have arrived and devoured the man? Raaabe thought not when he noticed faint marks in the snow. Not animal tracks, but those that looked to be human. There were two sets. Some of those leading to the outpost were still intact, the enormous height of the snowdrifts protecting them from the wind. Others, sheltered by huge mountains of ice that also blocked the strong drafts, led away from the building.

“Has anyone been outside today?” Raaabe hollered.

Both men shook their heads.

Raaabe gestured for them to follow him. His focus remained on those tracks not yet covered with new snow, ones that became even more obvious as a shaft of bluish light pierced the heavy cloud cover. From his vantage point, Raaabe could see that the trail continued toward the horizon and two bodies of water. One frozen, seemingly impenetrable. The other less so. Ribbons of steam rose from various parts of it, thinning the ice.

Without pause, Raaabe headed for it.

Hours passed before the guard regained consciousness. When he did, Zekin saw stark terror on his face that he was nude, defenseless, trapped. Bruda and Qatar had shackled the man’s hands. His arms were now above his head, the chain that held them secured to an overhead hook in the dining hall.

Male pleasure slaves had moved the tables and benches to create a wide circle around the prisoner. Those same slaves now stood menacingly close, whips in their hands, their full attention on a man who’d once abused them.