From Burning Ashes (Collector Series #4) (28 page)

I swallowed back the lump in my throat as he
drew me into his arms, engulfing me in the warmth of his body,
holding me tight. It was the only place I felt safe and momentarily
comforted. All other issues disappeared, and I felt his love wrap
around me in a protective bubble.

Then, Ryker stiffened, the muscles in his
back coiling. I jolted.

“What?”

He kept his arms around me, but his head
jerked around the parking lot, nostrils flared, his eyes
bright.

“Ryker?” Fear strangled my vocal cords.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “But something
is off.”

I sent out my senses, feeling only fae, which
was not a surprise here. But then the hair on the back of my neck
prickled. Magic crept over my skin. A lot of fae energy surrounded
us, but this felt powerful. Danger discharged down my spine like a
warning bell.

Ryker stepped away from me, sliding out a
knife from his coat. A lamp from the street outlined his movement.
His white eyes glowed under his hood.

I tugged out the blade strapped to my back.
My heart thudded in my chest. Did Vadik find us? Did Dunn lead them
right to us? It didn’t make sense, but my mind still ran over the
possibility. Could it be Arlo, or did DMG finally locate us?

The fact we still couldn’t jump on command
made me crazy.
Jump dammit!

Ryker touched my back, moving us to the top
of the lot in hurried steps, my legs barely able to keep up. With a
clanking noise behind me I swung my head to look over my shoulder.
In the depths of the parking lot, a hideous figure slunk toward us,
small eyes boiling with hatred. I whipped back, my mouth opening to
tell Ryker when a black van squealed to a stop in front of us,
blocking our way. Men in dark clothing ascended out.

Panic resounded through my brain, never
reaching my throat. A dark windowless van had me recalling my time
at DMG, but the amount of magic pounding off each individual didn’t
back up the theory. These were pure fae.

Ryker and I didn’t need to communicate to
understand each other’s next move. We twisted around and ran for
the alley between the bar and another building. He grabbed my arm,
pulling me in front of him as the lane narrowed only enough for
one. I pushed my legs to move double time so I wouldn’t hold him
back and darted down another path. The men gained on us, sounding
like a troop of soldiers as they pounded behind us.

“Faster!” Ryker hissed.

I bit down on my lip and impelled my legs to
go quicker. As I curved around another bend, I took a second to
look behind us. They were shadowed, but I was sure I didn’t know
them. These were not Garrett’s men. I knew most of their faces. And
Arlo was nothing more than a second-rate pirate. He could not
command this kind of military precision.

Who were they?

“Zoey!” Ryker yelled. My eyes flicked to him,
then to what he stared at. I spun my head forward to see a dumpster
and wall ahead, hindering our escape.

Of course.

I picked up my speed, pumping my arms. I felt
as if I were back on a hunt, chasing fae, when I worked for DMG. I
leaped for the dumpster, stretching out my arms to grasp the top,
my feet kicking at the side, pushing me up.

Ryker scaled to the top faster, grabbing the
back of my coat, pulling me to my feet. I was waiting to hear
gunshots as we scaled the wall, but they never came. Most fae
tended to like old-school hand-to-hand combat. There was even an
honor code among enemies. Guns didn’t take much skill. Vadik no
longer seemed to hold this policy. His men at the warehouse had
their weapons loaded, ready to shoot and kill. Another reason, my
instinct told me, these were not his men.

Ryker dropped to the ground as I landed next
to him. Both of us rose to sprint for the buildings before us and
lose ourselves in the maze of streets, alleyways, and hiding
spots.

We took three steps before a massive figure
moved in front of us. He was so enormous, with muscles bigger than
my head. A scream choked my throat, and I stumbled back.

“Fuck,” I heard Ryker mumble as he leaned
back to take in the huge form. The man had to be more than eight
feet tall and five hundred pounds of solid muscle. Large gashes
covered his face and bald head. His chest was bare, and his legs
were covered in a mishmash of fabric sewn together to construct
pants to fit him.

Panic lodged in my arms and legs and froze me
in place as the massive figure wrapped his oversized hands around a
club the size of, well, me. He huffed, dipping his head toward us,
his dark skin almost blending with the night. “Stay.”

Even if I wanted to disobey him, my body
wouldn’t oblige. It stood stock still, air caught in my throat. I
didn’t even blink till men came from all sides, corralling Ryker
and me back to the wall.

“What do you want?” Ryker puffed up his
chest, keeping his blade ready.

A sandy-blond man stepped up. War wounds
lined his face as well. He appeared to be a tiny bit smaller than
Ryker, but his coiled muscles told me he had been trained to take
down his enemy in mere seconds.

“That’s not for us to explain.” He edged
closer.

“Then whose is it?” Ryker demanded.

“You will have to wait and see.” As soon as
the words came out of the man’s mouth, the dozen men advancing
toward us rushed forward. Ryker tried to fight, but the men were
quick and precise. Three grabbed me before I could even try to
fight back.

A bag was shoved over my head, and I sucked
in a suffocating gasp as darkness engulfed me. Ryker roared with
anger beside me.

My body wanted to jump. Yet, as I took in a
deep breath my mind started to swirl with fog. With each breath I
took the mist grew into thick clouds, my legs bending underneath
me.

My tongue felt coated, swelling as a hint of
something skated down my throat.
The bags are lined with some
kind of drug.

The last thing I heard was my name being
screamed out into the night before a muffled yelp gave way to
silence.

Fate had us in its hands, and all I could do
was let it lead me.

Whatever they treated the bag with wasn’t
strong enough to completely take me under. I stayed conscious but
woozy the entire trip with no willpower to fight. Fear stayed
knotted in my stomach, but I knew it was pointless to fight this
group. The men never handcuffed us, but they took all our weapons.
They were highly trained and powerful.

We rode in the van for about ten minutes
before we stopped. They picked me up, my legs lightly touching the
ground. The scuffling and grumbling told me they were dragging
Ryker behind me. The gravel gave way to smooth concrete, my boots
finding more solid footing with every step. The slamming of doors
behind me and the faraway echoes of our shoes suggested we were in
a large warehouse of some sort.

An arm brushed my shoulder and my heart
leaped at Ryker’s touch. His closeness gave me strength. The bag
was ripped from my head, and I blinked at the solitary light
hanging in the room. I glanced over to see Ryker’s hood being torn
away, causing his eyes to blink against the sudden light.

When he caught my eyes, his shoulders relaxed
slightly. I scanned the space and found I had been right. It was an
empty warehouse, probably left that way after the storm. Like much
of this area, it looked like it had once been used to fix or store
boats.

The room was quiet, and the men stood
straight as if the Queen of England was about to enter the room.
Movement stirred to the side, and another group of men entered.
This time the hair all over my body went straight, driven upward by
fear. The air in the room seemed to thicken with magic so dense I
started to gag. My shoulders felt weighed down, and I stirred,
trying to escape the energy pounding on me.

Ryker shifted, and I could tell he sensed the
same thing. My apprehension shot up when I felt a strange anxiety
bound off him and slam into me. I turned my head to look at him. He
kept his head forward, his hands clenching and unclenching, his
feet bobbing nervously. I’d never seen Ryker anxious. Not like
this.

Shoes snapped over the floor, nearing us. The
handful of men dressed in black entered and spread out, with one
man walking down the middle demanding our attention. A harsh gasp
ran roughly up my esophagus, and I stepped back. I heard Ryker
swear next to me.

The gentleman coming for us appeared to be
the source of the energy. He possessed power unlike anything I had
ever come across in the fae world. It pumped off him, crashing into
every object around him. He was tall, nicely built, and held his
head with dominion, as though the world was his for the taking.

The effect of his magic on me felt like I’d
consumed several pots of coffee. He also was one of the most
attractive men I had ever seen. I assessed him to be in his late
thirties, with black, wavy hair and a light olive complexion. He
wore a suit of such fine blue fabric I guessed it cost more than a
car. He embodied sophistication, wealth, elegance, class, and
intimidation.

When he looked over at us, I heard Ryker suck
in a breath. Then, his piercing, yellowish-green eyes fixed on me.
He was a demon. Remembering my studies and what Ryker once told me,
he was no ordinary demon. He stood at the top of the food
chain.

“Holy shit,” Ryker whispered and sank down to
his knees, bowing his head. Seeing Ryker react like this sent more
terror into my bones than the actual man did.

The man walked up in front of Ryker and me.
“You may stand,” his deep, sultry voice ordered Ryker. As Ryker
stood back up, the man’s eyes went to me, and I couldn’t help but
shift nervously. “I will forgive you this one time for not
addressing me properly, since you are…or
were
human.” He
tilted his head, analyzing me. “But in the presence of a King, you
kneel.”

King? My gaze darted in confusion to Ryker
then back to the man.

“Zoey, this is our Unseelie King.”

My mouth dipped open, closed, then fell open
again. “Un-un-seelie King?” I stuttered. I had heard all about him.
Lars, King of the dark fae. All the rumors passed around were so
frightening you hoped they were tales to scare children. But
standing in front of him I knew—hell, I
felt
—they had not
been made up. My hands trembled at my side, and I forced my bladder
not to react to him. In my life I had dealt with a lot of unstable
or scary people and situations, but no one inspired such a primal
animal terror as he did.

Unfortunately when I got scared, I got
defensive and combative. My anger took over my nerves, my hands
stopped shaking and my lids narrowed. “What do you want with
us?”

One of the King’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows
curved up.

“Zoey.” Ryker shook his head next to me.

“What?” I turned back to Ryker. “It’s a
perfectly reasonable question to ask a man who just kidnapped
us.”

Ryker tilted his head, then looked back at
the King, like “fair enough.”

The King stayed quiet for a moment, adding
tension to the air. “Be careful, Zoey.” He said my name with
warning. The fact he knew my name didn’t shock me for more than a
second. There was a reason he became King. He would know everything
about everyone, especially if they drew his attention. And to get a
personal call from the Unseelie King, we had to be high on his
interest list. “My patience is thin. I’ve had my fill of lippy,
tenacious young ladies lately. Do not disrespect me.”

“O-kay. What do you want with us,
Your
Highness
?” I asked evenly.

Slowly a smirk hinted at his lips and eyes,
and he shook his head, almost as if he was amused. I still
understood it was a perilous line to walk, and I wasn’t stupid
enough to push it.

He rubbed his hands together, his eyes never
breaking from mine. “I want the stone.”

“Get in line,” I spouted off before I could
stop myself. I sucked back my bottom lip with a hiss. “Sir.”

Ryker let out a soft groan next to me.

“Yes. You two have created a long list of
enemies.” A shadow of amusement filtered over the King’s beautiful
features, then it was gone. “Do not make me one.” I didn’t dare
respond, and Lars did not seem to be looking for one. He shoved a
hand in his pocket and started to stroll around us. “The difference
is, in the end, you will hand it over to me.”

I gulped as he walked close. He turned and
faced me. I wondered if he could sense the stone in my shoe. It had
been quiet for the last day, but a man as powerful as he must be
able to sense the magic pulsing off it. Of all people, wouldn’t the
stone want to be taken by one of the most powerful men in the
Otherworld? If he could feel it, why didn’t he get one of his men
to tug off my shoe and take it? He could easily do it, and Ryker
and I couldn’t fight.