Enslaved (The Inbetween Novels) (24 page)

The strong scent of coffee drew Shayla’s head around. She slipped her hands free of Harry’s and grabbed the steaming cup from the waiter. Her nose dipped down to the rim of the cup. “Oh God, that smells good.”

“Cream, ma’am?” He dangled a small white pitcher in front of her.

“Yes, please.” She watched him pour in a generous amount of cream. “That’s good. Thank you.”

He left the single slice of blueberry cheesecake in the middle of the table. Shayla stared at it and mentally smacked herself.
Why did I only order one piece?

Harry handed her a fork. “Ladies get first bite.”

They ate in virtual silence. Occasionally Harry playfully batted Shayla’s fork away from the plate and snatched the bite she was about to scoop up. She frowned and stabbed at the opposite side of their dessert.

During their one-sided dessert battle, the waiter slipped the check beside Harry’s arm. Shayla reached for it. Harry beat her to it and flipped the black leather folder open. He barely glanced at the check and set his credit card inside, standing the folder on the edge of the table.

“I can pay for my own.” Shayla scooped up the last piece of cheesecake and ate it.

“I invited you, I will pay.” He glanced at the empty plate. The corner of his left eye twitched. “Do you have time to take a walk with me?”

She shifted in her seat. The midsection of her dress was a lot tighter than it’d been when she sat down. “Yes, a walk would be nice.” Maybe it’d help settle the food fighting for room in her stomach. It was a good thing she didn’t drink more than half a glass of the wine; otherwise she’d end up sick when she tried to sit in her car to drive home.

Harry signed the receipt for the bill. Shayla polished off the last of her coffee, savoring the warmth before stepping out in the cool night air without a coat. Coats did not pair well with looking cute, even if her time with Harry wasn’t a real date, not in her eyes at least.

They headed outside. Shayla carefully stayed out of reach until they passed through the door. She wasn’t sure she wanted Harry to get too comfortable touching her. His arm draped over her shoulders, pulling her closer—obviously he had other things in mind.

Shayla shrugged away. She stopped in front of a shoe store. The displays were lit, but the store beyond was dark, deserted. The sidewalks were likewise clear, as though someone had decreed an early curfew for the city.

“I’m sorry if I misled you, Harry.”

He stepped closer, trapping her against the cold glass storefront. “How so?”

Shayla’s mouth went dry. She licked her lips and tried to corral the torrent of thoughts in her mind. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to date anyone, let alone have it become something more. And after the last couple of days, I’ve realized I’m not ready for whatever may come of this.”

As she said it, Shayla knew it was partially a lie. She could see herself with someone, but it wasn’t the man in front of her. He was too . . . much too aggressive. Too quick to hasten what they had between them. She needed to be the one in charge. He’d make a good friend, she thought again, but only one you saw from time to time with a group of friends in tow.

“We have time, Shayla, don’t dismiss us so soon.” He pushed her hair back from her shoulder.

Shayla slid sideways across the glass to get away from his touch. “You’re not listening, Harry. I can’t do this. Not now.”

Slowly, a grin spread over his lips. Something flashed in the dark depths of his eyes—probably just headlights from a passing car. A car she couldn’t hear over the steady beat of her heart against her ribs.

“That’s perfectly okay.” The light in his eyes flashed again, brighter and tinted green. It grew until his dark irises were consumed by it. “I don’t need your approval, unlike some.”

“What are—“

“Enough.”

Harry waved his hand. Green light swept over his cheeks, obscene fluorescent tears skiing down the slopes of his cheekbones and jumping free. It came at Shayla. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t move. She felt the cold glass behind her tremble and prayed it’d shake so hard it broke. That would be her only way out—if she could force her frozen body to move.

The light came down over her head, consuming her. It tingled against her skin, blocked out her vision. At last, Shayla managed to draw a deep breath and let out a scream. Her voice echoed off the green light, deafening her.

Harry’s laugh was the last thing she heard before the light obscured everything and Shayla passed out.

Night fell on the God’s Lands. It wasn’t true night, there was no sun or moon, but the light faded nonetheless—mostly to appease the gods who ruled over the night and moon as well as those who ruled over the sun. The gods were picky when it came to observing their source of power.

The dining hall of the incubi compound was filled to capacity. Nearly everyone had come in from the Inbetween to take part in the evening meal. It was tradition, damn near sacred for them to gather as a whole at the end of the day. They could pretend, for an hour or so, they were nothing more than college students coming together to eat and discuss the classes for the day. Only their classes involved a lot of nudity, sweat, and bone-deep exhaustion on days when the summons calls would not ease up.

Deryck scanned the faces of his brethren. At the end of the day, most felt as he did—ready to sleep for twelve hours straight before they were forced to bed even one more woman. Some of the men were energetic, trading lurid stories of their conquests. Others kept to themselves, haunted looks on their faces. He felt for those poor souls. The ones who’d been forced to do depraved acts because their genetic makeup made them perfect for domineering over the women who called them. Unfortunately, for many of them, they did not enjoy abusing women to the extent their callers wished. Then there were the incubi who relished in it, came away from the Inbetween with a sense of power they should not possess. These males sat apart from the others, yet still in the midst of the action. Herryk, who normally sat at the head of their table, was absent. Likely still in the Inbetween dipping his prick into anything and everything that moved.

Garik raised a questioning brow when Deryck passed their table. “You can’t keep skipping meals, man. There’s hardly anything left to you as it is.”

Deryck clapped him on the shoulder. “Save a plate for me. I’m going for a swim before everyone and their father decides to head over there.”

“Fine, but I’m making sure you eat.” Garik waved a fork at him.

“Yes, mother.”

“If I’m your mother, that explains your good looks and big dick.”

Deryck laughed. “Sure as shit didn’t come from my father’s side. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Don’t drown.” Garik flashed a grin and cut into the gigantic slice of roast beef on his plate.

Deryck ducked out the back door of the dining hall. The air outside didn’t move, but was pleasantly cool. He took the path to the gym and paused at the gate to the nursery. Listening, he made sure no one else was around before flattening himself to slip between the tall bushes and the fence protecting the path to the nursery. He walked down the fence line—far enough to be sure no one would see or hear him. Reflexively, he looked to the sky to stare at the stars, only there were none in the dark sky above.

The bushes to his left shuddered and parted. Wolfrik stepped through them without so much as a strand of hair out of place. The male was one with the earth, thanks to his father, Kuksu. One wouldn’t find so much as a grass stain on his jeans if he were to actually let loose and play soccer with his brethren one afternoon.

Wolfrik stopped directly in front of Deryck, his worried eyes searching his face. “Did you find Shayla?”

“I spied on her while she was at work. She seemed fine. I didn’t want to bother her or get her in trouble, so I left. Are you going to explain why you think Herryk is after her?”

“Listen to me carefully. Don’t ask questions, just listen. The time to explain properly has passed, I’m afraid.” Wolfrik ran a hand through his hair. His eyes darted toward the path beyond the bushes.

Deryck’s eyes followed. “You’re really starting to scare me, old friend.”

“I wish there were a better way to do this.” He gestured to the ground and sat, his long legs crossed under him, arms resting on knees. His legs wouldn’t stay still and bounced restlessly.

Deryck followed suit and leaned back against the wrought iron fence. He picked a blade of perfectly formed grass and rolled it between his fingers, waiting silently for his friend to compose himself.

“There is only one way to release an incubus from his bonds. He must consume the blood of his sire and the mother of an incubus in a place where his sire was worshipped.”

Deryck shook his head. His heart sank into his stomach. “Shayla has no children.”

“No living child she is aware of.” The look in Wolfrik’s eyes made his blood run cold.

Deryck’s head throbbed. Shayla never mentioned being pregnant in the past. But even if she were, how could a mother be completely unaware she had a living, breathing child out there in the world? A sick feeling settled in his stomach. “Who?”

“Eros.”

Without thinking, Deryck launched himself off the ground. He wanted—no he
needed
blood on his hands—Greek blood. Nothing less would satisfy the sense of violation he felt for Shayla.

Strong hands grabbed the back of his shirt and forced him against the fence. “Killing Eros is suicidal. We aren’t strong enough, thanks to these.” Wolfrik held his forearm in front of Deryck’s face. His tattoos writhed with the movement of his muscles. “They don’t just bind us to the God’s Lands; they limit the amount of power we can wield. Anything more than parlor tricks is impossible, you know this.”

“I don’t give a damn. You know what Eros is like. His offspring are some of the few who enjoy being slaves. To think of that bastard touching Shayla, hurting her . . . .” A vivid image flashed through his mid, so clear he almost mistook it for an actual vision, instead of a version of what could have happened that his subconscious coughed up like phlegm.

Wolfrik stepped between Deryck and the path he’d been eyeballing. “Eros isn’t your problem right now.”

“You’re sorely fucking mistaken.”

Big hands closed down on Deryck’s shoulders and shook him hard enough to bang his head against the fence. Wolfrik leaned in so close, Deryck smelled mint on his breath. “Herryk wants Shayla.”

“He doesn’t even know she exists.”

He shook his head. “Somehow, he rigged a spell to track you. Once he realized you’d been going to the human realm, he put the pieces together. Shayla is one of a dozen women alive at the moment capable of freeing one of us.”

“Until tonight, I didn’t even know how to free myself. How the hell does he know?”

Wolfrik pushed away from Deryck. His eyes dropped to the ground. “He’s seen it happen before, a long time ago.”