From Burning Ashes (Collector Series #4) (13 page)

“Where did they go?” The man’s voice had a
thick Middle Eastern accent.

“I don’t know,” the woman replied. “We are so
fired. Another gang break-in on our watch.” There was a moment of
silence. “Shit!” A bang of a shoe hit the booth by our heads.

“Well, looks like we lost them. Let’s head
back, check in with the others, then we can start looking in the
help-wanted ads.”

“Not funny, Khatri.”

“Not meant to be a joke,” he replied. “Come
on, nothing more we can do here.”

####

Steps faded away, but we lay there for
several more minutes. The only sounds were the water lapping
against the dock and random cars on the freeway.

Ryker exhaled and turned his head, peering
down at me. It was as if he suddenly realized he remained on top of
me. He didn’t move off. He just stared, which from him was
unnerving in so many ways. I didn’t budge, afraid to startle the
beast.

Like me, he had a hyperactive fight-or-flight
response. Fighting I could handle. I enjoyed…hell, it turned me on
more than I wanted to admit. This time I was more afraid of the
latter. He felt so good, the weight of his body, the feel of him
pushing into my thigh.

Our lips were only an inch apart, one tiny
movement forward and my mouth would claim his. With what just
happened in Target, I understood he had to be the one to make the
first move. My heart thumped in my chest; my breath grew shallow.
He exhaled, his breath sliding down my neck like tickling fingers.
Without my mind’s consent, my hips opened up wider, allowing more
of him to fit between my legs. His hand gripped my thigh, sliding
up to my waist.

Desire hit me so hard I had to squeeze my
lids shut. Ryker produced a soft moan. His lips brushed the corner
of mine, lifting my eyes. His hand continued to trail up my side,
pushing underneath my T-shirt. Even the butterfly touch affected
me. He didn’t kiss me, but the brush of his lips, his fingers, the
sensation of his breath skating to the sensitive part behind my ear
and trailing between my breasts made me groan. We filled the small
space with short, forceful breaths.

Ryker only had to look at me and I came
undone. We both loved the high of the chase, got off on close
calls, and were turned on by fierceness. It was nice to know I
didn’t have to hide that part of myself or push it away and pretend
it didn’t exist. With Ryker I could roll in it, getting as dirty as
I wanted, and he would respond in kind.

My back arched as his palm skimmed my stomach
then wandered back, dipping below my jeans. He tugged at the
button, letting his fingers trail underneath the band of my
underwear. Then he moved lower.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, his hand cupping the
heat between my thighs. His hand moved deeper between my legs. I
gasped. His touch was too much. I could no longer wait.

“Ryker,” I choked out, lust coating my
throat. “Please.”

My voice caused him to lift his head. His
eyes flickered with light. His hands went to my hips as he stood,
tossing me up on the counter, my butt landing hard on the wood. His
hands skated roughly up my neck, pulling my hair up as he went. He
yanked my head back. The moment our eyes connected I knew he was no
longer there.

“Ryker?”

He leaned over into my ear. “How about I fuck
you while I’m killing you.” He bit my ear.

I shoved him back, giving me enough room to
pull up my leg. The sole of my boot slammed into his chest. He
stumbled back, hitting the wall.

“I like it rough.” A smile turned up his
mouth as he came back for me. That was the problem. We both
did.

I jumped off the table. There was nowhere to
go in the tiny room. He easily reached out, wrapped his arms around
me, and brought me back into his body. One hand coming up for my
neck.

I didn’t say a word. There seemed no point
pleading. He stayed a slave to the oath.

I thought of only one thing to break his
trance. My teeth sank into the soft spot between his finger and
thumb, sawing together.

Ryker shouted in pain, his arm dropping away
from my neck. I crunched down tighter, the taste of blood exploding
over my tongue.

“Zo-ey. Stop.” He hissed in pain.

My name. He said my name.

When I let go, blood oozed from the puncture
holes. I moved away, spinning to face him.

Pain etched deep into his face as he held his
bleeding hand to his chest. “Fuck, woman. You are worse than a
Chihuahua.”

I wiped the blood from my chin. My body
vibrating with life. “At least let me be a pit bull or something
cool.”

Ryker lifted an eyebrow. We both stood there,
breathless, our eyes locked. The small space couldn’t seem to
contain us, spitting back the sounds of us gasping for air, echoing
the thumps of adrenaline pumping in our veins.

Want.

Desire.

Lust.

Carnage.

It was always there with us. The passion
mixed with fierceness, tearing at the seams, breaking me in pieces
till I didn’t know which one I wanted more. My hot skin screamed to
be touched again, to feel his rubbing against mine.

His tattoo flickered, his nose flared, and he
jerked his head to the side.

“You have blood on your nose.”

“You have a tendon sticking out of your
hand.” My voice wobbled, still rough with craving.

“You have a wicked bite.” Ryker inspected his
hand, the blood already slowing.

“Why you love me,” I replied coyly, not
realizing what I had said.

Oh holy shit.
Did I just say that?

“I didn’t mean it like
love
. I meant
like love. You know…” Crap! I was babbling. I think I giggled too.
Shut up, Zoey.

“I know what you meant.” His tone sounded
unemotional. He dropped his eyes to his hand. It had already
stopped bleeding. “We need to get back. Get far away from
here.”

I nodded and picked up the messenger bag
where Sprig curled at the bottom.

Ryker collected his things, unlocked the
latch, and stepped out into the early dawn.

I heaved the strap over my head, chiding
myself quietly. A head poked out from the bag. “Hey, bud. You’re
awake.” I rubbed his ears.

“Where the hell are we? Do we live in a
tollbooth now?” He glanced around. “Small. Might be a little
awkward with all of us, but hey, still a lot less awkward than the
painful moment I just witnessed.” He patted my arm.

“You heard, huh?”

Sprig waggled his head and peered at me with
concern. “Tragic.”

“Yeah. Story of my life.”

“The giggle was a nice touch.”

“Shut up.”

I buttoned my pants and proceeded out into
the night, still reeling from the whiplash of our encounter.

####

We only walked for two blocks when I felt a
sensation slither up my spine, like boney fingers up the back of my
neck. We were being watched. I stopped, my gaze roamed over the
black alleyway and dimly lit street.

“What?” Ryker glanced over at me, his
expression unreadable.

The itchy, uncomfortable feeling of eyes on
me prickled my skin. My gaze wandered around, reaching in the dark
corners. Nothing was there, but the unease would not dissolve.

“Zoey?” Irritation twisted through my
name.

“It feels like we are being watched.” I
gripped the strap of my new bag, feeling the comforting weight of
Sprig inside. He talked softly to Pam 2.0, catching her up on all
she had missed since Peru.

Ryker tensed, turning slowly in a circle,
taking in the space around us. “I don’t see or sense anything.”

If it were DMG, they would come right for us,
no playing around. This energy had the presence of a cat playing
with its food. Garrett would enjoy messing with us, but his power
was strong. I couldn’t even tell if this was human or fae. I rubbed
my head, a slight headache thumping at my temple, the energy I had
earlier depleted, leaving me feeling drained and a little
depressed.

“Let’s get off the street,” Ryker barked. He
moved in front of me, walking deeper into the shadows, his
shoulders curling up toward his ears, worsening my mood.

That damn oath still controlled him.
Us
. I hated it. Why couldn’t it just break? What if it
started getting worse again, to the point where he lost himself in
the bloodlust? How long would it be before he really tried to kill
me? Would I survive? Would it break, or would I keep rising back to
life, never fulfilling the oath? Was this twisted cycle the best we
could hope for?

I pushed back the thought, picking up my pace
to catch up with him. As I rounded a corner to follow him, I
glanced over my shoulder. In the depths of the alley, a pair of
black eyes stared back into mine, a faint glow of aura hinted at
his skin, but I couldn’t tell if it was human or fae.

Air caught in my throat.

“Hurry up,” Ryker shouted, shattering my
attention on the figure.

“I’m coming,” I snapped at him and quickly
looked back behind me. The eyes were gone, the alley empty. I
blinked a few times.

I wanted to believe my sight was playing
tricks on me, my pounding head making me see things, but my
intuition told me different. It was probably a homeless person or
someone looking to score drugs, sex, or goods. With everything we
had been through today, I pushed it away and followed Ryker back to
the safe house, forgetting about it the moment we walked into the
warehouse.

My attention went straight to the pair
sitting on the floor. Lexie leaned against the wall, bundled up
under the dirty blankets while Croygen sat on the ground facing
her.

Croygen didn’t even look up, but I knew he
sensed our presence.

“Full house.” He chuckled, placing some cards
between them. “Beat that!”

A sly smile curled up Lexie’s face, a look I
knew well, as she spread her cards down. “Four of a kind.”

“Seriously?” Croygen groaned. “No one can be
this lucky.”

“That’s seven in a row, pirate.” She
snickered, then took a deep breath, her face pale and clammy. “You
owe me fifty bucks.”

Croygen turned to me. “I think I’m going to
take this girl to a casino. She’s kicking my ass.”

“She’s twelve.” I folded my arms, stepping
farther into the room.

“I’ll be thirteen in a week,” Lexie
retorted.

Jeez, was it already late September? I’d lost
more time underground than I thought.

“Still illegal.”

“Well, kid, no matter your age, you are a
freaking card shark.” Croygen shook his head admiringly.

“She was gambling for kids’ lunch money at
the age of seven.” I let my eyes roam proudly over her. She looked
so frail and sickly, sweat beading her hairline, her usual creamy
caramel skin a pallid color.

“Six,” she corrected me.

One guy I’d been “seeing” had taught Lexie
cards and dice. She learned quickly. She gambled for objects she
coveted, whereas I stole them. We were quite a pair in our
neighborhood. Two sweet-looking girls, one disabled, who would rob
you blind without you even realizing it. It was also another reason
I picked up fighting.

I had to fight us out of sticky situations
when the loser wasn’t too keen about forfeiting the pot to a little
girl. Many times it didn’t go in our favor, and I’d end up back in
the hospital or the police station. People, especially men, did not
like being beaten by a young girl over the table, while another one
robbed him. Our ruse didn’t last long when they figured us out, but
Lexie never stopped gaming with kids to win their Christmas
gifts.

“Where did you get the cards?” I asked.

“Left in a drawer.” Croygen tipped his head
toward the desk. “Probably from the last person who hid out
here.”

“Speaking of hiding,” Ryker huffed from
behind me. “Glad you are keeping guard.”

“Amara’s shift.” Croygen pointed over to the
corner. Her lithe figure stood in the shadows, blending in so well
I hadn’t seen her.

“I knew you guys were coming.” Amara leaned
against the wall, keeping her gaze out the window.

“Fifty bucks, Hook.” Lexie held out her hand,
her jaw set firmly as she looked at him.

“Oh, were we playing for real money?” Croygen
took a step back.

“Pay up.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a doll or
something?”

“I decapitate dolls.”

Croygen’s eyebrows shot up.

“She does.” I moved in closer, realizing a
smile was plastered on my face. It felt so good to have her back.
She was alive! That in itself had been enough, but seeing the saucy
tween I knew so well lightened my heart.

“Oh, look. I think it’s my shift.” Croygen
pointed over to the window.

“No, it’s not.” Amara folded her arms.

“Yes, it is,” Croygen replied.

“Running scared from a twelve-year-old girl.”
Amara rolled her eyes. “Pathetic, Croygen.”