Angels of Darkness (19 page)

He drew back. His eyes widened and for a moment the burden of his presence eased. “Corn.”

She passed the dish of corn to him.

Daniel sauntered into the room. While Henry migrated from place to place and Lucas stalked, his steps soundless and full of fierce grace, Daniel strode as if his feet did the ground a great favor. He didn't walk but floated, devastating in his beauty and perfectly aware of it.

Daniel took a seat directly opposite her. He speared a steak and dropped it on his plate. “Are you going to do this every day? Cook the dinner, be the dinner?”

“Yes,” Karina said with a calm she didn't feel.

“Why? Are you totally spineless? What do you think sucking up will earn you? Look at him.” Daniel pointed at Lucas. “He doesn't care.”

“I'm not doing it for him.”

“Then why?”

“Here we go.” Henry rolled his eyes.

Daniel pushed off from the table, balancing his chair on its back legs, and crossed his arms. “No, I want her to enlighten me. How deeply has Stockholm syndrome set in?”

Karina put down her fork. Her instinct told her that whatever she said next would define her place in this house. The idea of some flattering subterfuge crossed her mind and died. She wondered if she should say nothing at all. In the end, she decided on honesty.

“I understand that I can die at any moment. Lucas's cousin died at the last Christmas dinner. For all I know, Lucas might die tomorrow, killed by your enemies or by your family members. Without Lucas I have no worth. My daughter is here because of me. If I'm no longer needed, I expect that neither will she be. I've seen enough of your family to realize we won't be allowed to leave. You will dispose of us as if we never existed. I have to find some way to make myself valued beyond Lucas. Then, if he dies, both my daughter and I might survive.”

“And you do this by becoming our housekeeper?” Daniel grinned. “Cooking, cleaning up after us? Tell me, how low will you stoop? If I leave some shit in the bathroom for you, will you clean it up?”

“No,” Karina said. “You'll clean your own shit. Unless you're sitting in a pile of it right now, you must know how to aim for the toilet and wipe your own ass.”

The amusement in Daniel's eyes crystallized into anger. “If you want to ingratiate yourself, there's a much easier way of doing it. You can come over here right now and suck my cock. That will put you into my good graces much faster than scrubbing the sink.”

Karina glanced at Lucas. He cut a piece of steak, chewed with obvious pleasure, and threw her a look that said,
Sit tight.

“She isn't a fool, Daniel.” Henry snagged another roll from the bread basket. “These are delicious. She knows that servicing you would put you and Lucas at each other's throats. You're playing this game for your personal gratification, but Lucas depends on her for his survival. She'd have to be mentally deficient to choose you over him.”

Daniel shifted to Lucas. “So what does his lordship think of all this? Your snack has you buried already. Are you flattered?”

Lucas cut into his third steak.

“What would you do in her place? Would you mop the floors, O mighty one?”

Lucas thought about it. “In her place I would've killed the two of you already. But I'm not in her place. And I'm not her. I'm not smaller and weaker than everyone around me, nor do I have a child's life in my hands. She's being prudent, given her situation.”

Daniel smirked. “Never thought you'd be so agreeable at the idea of your own death.”

“We all must come to terms with it one way or another,” Lucas said.

“Maybe I'll help you on your way, then, since you're all prepared. Seems a shame to waste the opportunity.”

“Think you can?” Lucas asked with genuine interest.

“Careful, Daniel,” Henry said. “That kind of talk will end with you breaking a nail or messing up your hair.”

Daniel ignored him and glared at Lucas. “Bring it.”

Lucas put down his fork, smiled, and shoved the table aside like it weighed nothing. Karina scrambled out of the way. Lucas's huge hand clamped Daniel's throat. Daniel clawed at Lucas's forearm. The bigger man jerked him off his feet, shook him the way a dog shakes a rat, and slammed him down onto the table. Dishes flew. Trapped in a corner between the counter and the stove, Karina threw her hands in front of her face. A ceramic dish shattered next to her, spraying green beans over the counter.

“No,” Henry screamed. “Not inside! Not inside!”

Red marks sliced Lucas's forearms. His skin bulged as if his bones were trying to break free.

“Yeah!” he snarled. “Hurt me more. Is that all you got?” His hand still locked on Daniel's throat, he pulled him up and smashed him onto the table again. “Need some more?” Daniel's face had grown bright red. Lucas jerked him up. “Not done yet?” He drove Daniel back down.

With a thunderous snap, the table broke in two. The two halves fell apart and Daniel crashed onto the floor, Lucas atop him, still crushing his windpipe. Daniel's feet drummed the ground. Veins bulged on his face, his skin turning magenta. His eyes rolled back into his skull.

“Here we go.” Henry sighed. “We lose all the good dishes this way.” He showed Karina the bread basket. “At least I saved the rolls. And don't worry, I'm keeping Emily asleep.”

Lucas released Daniel. The blond man lay unmoving. Lucas stepped over him, his eyes blazing with fury. His gaze locked on her. “Bedtime,” Lucas growled and lunged at her. An unstoppable force swept Karina off her feet and she found herself slung over Lucas's back.

“Let me go!” She struggled to pull free.

He swung around to face Henry. “Leave the mess for when he wakes up.”

“Will do.” Henry saluted him with a roll.

Lucas headed out of the kitchen. Karina tried to grab onto the door frame, but her fingers slipped and she was carried through the darkness of the hallway to the bedroom.

T
he room swung as Lucas slapped the door closed. Karina expected him to hurl her on the bed but he lowered her to the floor. She stumbled, dizzy from being spun back and forth, and scrambled to get away. Steely fingers caught her arm. He held on to her and sniffed at the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Green beans. You want a shower?”

His tone was calm. She glanced at his face. All of the rage had gone out of him. He looked worn out, his fury muted to mere smoldering coals.

“Yes.” She hesitated. “I don't have any clean clothes.”

“That's a problem,” Lucas agreed. “I'm sorry about the dinner.”

“That's okay.” His sudden calm threw her off balance. She stood still, expecting him to swing at her or maybe roar into her face.

Lucas reached into the dresser and pulled out a white T-shirt. “That's the best I can do for now. I'll have something sent up from the main house in the morning.”

She took the T-shirt. He didn't offer her any underwear. She would be naked under it.

“Come on.” Lucas pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Carved muscle bunched on his back. Nude, clothed—he could rape her at any point. Clothes wouldn't provide much of a defense.

He paused, his hand on the door of the bathroom. “Are you coming?”

Not if I can help it.
“I'll wait until you're done.”

“I'll be in here for hours,” he said. “The shower stall is enclosed. You can take your clothes off and I'll see nothing.”

For hours . . . Why would he be in the bathroom for hours? “I thought you needed to feed.”

“I do, but I won't be feeding for a while.”

She followed him, despite knowing better, eager for any crumb of information. “How long is a while?”

“Couple of weeks. Maybe longer. Depends on how quickly you deal with my venom.”

“Why?”

“Because too much of my toxin at once will kill you.”

She remembered his explanation from the night before. “You said your venom hurts you. Does it hurt now?”

He nodded.

“Always?”

Lucas looked at her. “Always. Worse after I am injured and much worse after I phase out of the attack variant. Sometimes I have seizures after phasing out.”

If he hurt always, he would have to feed always . . . “How often do you . . .”

As if reading her thoughts, he shrugged. “Once the optimal ratio of my venom to your hormones is reached in my blood, I'll need to feed every three weeks to maintain it. I won't be drinking as much as the last time. Come on. You need a shower and I need to sit down.”

He stepped out of her way. During the day she had used the bathroom in the hallway, near the kitchen. She had assumed this one would be the same.

A room almost as big as the bedroom itself greeted her. A dark green hot tub was sunk into the sealed wooden floor. Beyond it a shower stall stretched the entire length of the wall. Its frame matched the hot tub, but the stall itself consisted of wide, dark green panels, either glass or plastic, thick and frosted from the inside. Lucas hadn't lied—he might be able to discern her shadow, but that was about it. To the right was another stall, which she assumed hid the toilet, next to a large sink.

Lucas flipped a switch on the wall and the hot tub jets started, whipping the water into froth.

The shower called to Karina. To go on and disrobe while he was in the tub was insane, but she was covered in food and his scent from the previous night still stained her skin. She could wash him off.

Karina bit her lip and slipped past Lucas to the shower. She closed the door and saw a latch. Relief flooded her. She could lock herself in and for a few minutes pretend she was safe. She slid the latch closed and almost cried.

The shower stall was divided into a dressing area and the shower itself, separated by a curtain. Karina dug into the pocket of her jeans and fished out the knife. The blade seemed so small compared to Lucas. If she stuck it into his back, he might not even notice. She put it on the small metal shelf next to the soap and, pulled off her clothes, dropping them into a rumpled pile on the bench. An array of shampoo bottles and soaps waited her selection. She took the bottle with the picture of a green apple on the side, picked up a bar of soap at random, and stepped into the shower. Jets surrounded her on three sides. She turned the big wheel of the faucet and a wide sheet of water spilled on her from above in a warm, soothing waterfall. She dropped the shampoo and the soap. All around her water sprayed and cascaded, drenching her, washing away the scent of warm copper. She stepped into the deluge, closed her eyes, and swayed.

 

 

L
ucas slid into the hot water. He liked it near scalding. It wasn't quite hot enough, but it was getting there. The currents pummeled his body. He switched the two nearest jets off. The sharp claws of pain that scraped his ribs dulled to a low ache as he healed. His right arm still throbbed. Daniel was getting stronger.

One day one of them would get careless and they might finish each other off. Lucas closed his eyes and submerged. There were worse ways to go than being killed by your brother.

The rage that had driven him these past few days was gone, burned out in an adrenaline rush of violence.

He came up for air and settled with his head on the ledge, positioned in the dip of the shelf, the only place he could sit with the water lapping at his neck.

So tired . . .

The healing was draining his inner resources and he felt thin and weak, as if all of his muscles were a threadbare shirt hanging off his bones. From here he could see the door and the shower stall. She was in there. Naked. Wet. A fruity synthetic scent teased him—she was washing her hair. He pictured her body under the water, her hands sliding over her breasts and down . . .

A dull thud made him lift his head. In the shower, a dark shadow slumped, pressed against the glass.

It had hit her finally. He'd waited the whole day for it.

Lucas climbed out of the hot tub. The shower-stall door was locked. He hit it with his palm and the lock popped open. Karina lay curled in a corner of the shower, a small wet clump. Her legs shivered. Her skin had gained a pale, almost gray tint. He scooped her off the floor.

“No,” she stuttered. Her lips had turned blue. Not a good sign.

He bent down. She lashed out. He caught a glint of metal and pulled back, letting the knife blade miss him. Where had she even gotten one? Ah, yes. The kitchen. He plucked the knife out of her fingers and picked her up off the floor.

“No.” She pushed against his chest.

“Shhh,” he told her. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

He carried her out. Her wet skin was ice-cold against his.

She fought him even as he climbed into the tub and lowered her onto the shelf, sinking her up to her chin in the hot water. “Let me go . . .”

Afraid to agitate her any further, he put the full width of the tub between them, giving her room. No need to strain her. If she passed out, the chances of her survival would drop to almost nothing.

It took a full three minutes before her teeth stopped chattering. She looked at him. “Everything hurts.”

“Your body is reacting to the venom,” he said. “Hot water will help. It soothes the muscles. It's normal.” Technically everything he said was true. He just didn't go into the rest of the details. Not yet.

A short bitter laugh slipped from her lips. “Normal? Nothing about this is normal.”

True. Not for her anyway. For him, it was business as usual. “Thirsty?”