From Burning Ashes (Collector Series #4) (30 page)

“It’s malicious…almost teetering on abuse.
No, forget that. It was cruelty. But I stayed strong—”

“Sprig,” I cut him off.

“Your tit-carriers don’t happen to be full of
honey, do they?”

“Sprig.”

“I’m just saying it would be nice right now.
Do you hear it?” He pointed at his stomach. “It’s getting
angry.”

“So am I,” I growled.

“Stuff it, furball.” Ryker rubbed his head,
collapsed on the bed, and lay back.

Sprig leaped from my arms to Ryker’s chest.
“These crimes should be punishable by death!” He grabbed Ryker’s
jacket lapels. “Do you hear me, Viking? She
starved
me. On
purpose! You know what happens when I get hungry? I jabber…I
talk
.” He shoved his face into Ryker’s.

Ryker rolled his eyes back, then sat up.
“Fine.” He rose to his feet with Sprig on his shoulder and moved to
the door.

“Where are you going?” I lifted my arms.

“Out,” Ryker grumbled. “Before this little
guy pops like a tick.”

Sprig pointed at Amara then flipped her off
with the other hand before the door closed.

“That was weird.” I stared at the door and
shook my head.

“You find that weird? Of all the things
it
does? He is dating a
stuffed goat
.” Amara took a
huge gulp of alcohol. “Which, sadly, is still more action than I’m
getting.”

“I know this has to be hard for you—”

“Just stop right there.” Amara dropped the
bottle on the table, whipping her feet to the floor. “I don’t want
to hear any false sympathies or have some heartfelt moment with
you.”

Well, that made two of us.

“Enjoy your time with him. The sex is
seriously unbelievable. I know.” Amara stood. She only wore a long
T-shirt, which barely made it to her upper thighs. “But he will
come back to me. It’s inevitable. We belong together.” She stumbled
for the door, clearly drunk. “Now, I’m going to go skinny-dipping
in that tragic thing they call a pool, in case Ryker is wondering
where I am. I’m sure it will cause him to think of Prague.” She
winked then slammed the door behind her.

My temper had handled enough bullshit
tonight. I reached for the door handle. “You are such a
narcissistic bitch.” I flung the door open and froze.

A gun barrel was pointed at my head.

“Yes, you are.” The man pressed the revolver
into my forehead, pushing me back into the room.

“Arlo,” I whispered.

“You remember. I feel so honored.” His
lopsided mouth grinned, a horrific picture.

I could never forget that cruel face. A scar,
which Ryker had given him, cut through his face like a ragged
mountain range and ran into his scalp. Arlo’s black hair had grown
long and hung in greasy clumps. A beard sprouted in splotchy
patches around his uneven jaw. His back curved slightly, more
animal than human. His dirty, worn clothes hung off his boney
frame. He looked awful and smelled even worse.

He shoved me back hard, slammed the door, and
locked it. “I don’t want anyone to disturb our reunion. So much to
catch up on.”

Terror burrowed down my throat to my stomach
like a mole, settling into my gut. So it had been him in the
parking lot at the pub when we first came out. He must have
followed us back here.

“What do you want?” I had to stall to gather
my thoughts.

“Oh, pet. It’s more what I don’t want.” He
staggered forward. “Like you breathing anymore. I’ve been following
you for weeks, waiting for one moment to be alone with you.” His
foul breath sputtered into my face. “But let’s cut the chitchat,
and I’ll get straight to killing you.” He kept the gun on my head,
but with his other hand he tugged out a knife.

A long, sharp knife.

“If you kill me, you won’t get the stone.
Isn’t that what you want?”

“I want to painfully rip the flesh from your
skin. To watch you suffer as I have.” His mouth bared in a chilling
grin, displaying yellow teeth. “How beautiful would it be for the
Wanderer to return and find his beloved in tiny little pieces?”

“Not sure beautiful is the phrase I’d use.” I
licked my lips, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
Please
jump. Please for once just work.
Apparently my magic was giving
me a big “screw you,” being a stubborn child, not wanting to do
what it was told.

“If you yell, scream, cry, or move an inch, I
will carve into your face like you were going to do to mine,” he
snarled. “Then I will shoot you in the stomach, causing a slow and
painful death. And if you were wondering, fae bullets are in here,
pet.”

I kept my hands up, trying to casually look
around the room. Was there anything I could use to defend
myself?

“After your boyfriend finds you in chunks, it
will be his turn.” Arlo licked his lips, smacking them excitedly.
“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”

“Did we hurt your feelings that much?”

“Shut up, bitch.” He slammed the gun into my
head, throwing me back on the bed. He quickly climbed over me,
pushing me down. “I will enjoy this so much.”

“Good, I’d hate for you to come all this way
for nothing.” I struggled to keep my voice from wobbling, fear
clawing at my facade. The weight of his body on mine, the feeling
of being helpless, stabbed at the deep-seated nightmares I kept
locked away.

“You should have killed me,” he screeched,
tiny bits of saliva sprayed out. “You and the Wanderer took
everything from me.”

Ryker was right. A fae would rather be dead
than embarrassed or affronted.

“I’ve lost respect, my men, my business.” His
eyes darted crazily as if he’d been lost in the wild far too long.
“You took it from me. A stupid human girl. They laugh when I walk
in a room.”

My stomach flipped. I was as good as
dead.

His legs cinched around my hips as he kept
the gun to my head and slowly traced the blade of the knife down my
throat. Then he pressed in, slicing little cuts into my skin.

Pain built behind my eyelids, but I pressed
my lips together, trying to barricade a cry from breaking out. He
cut in deeper. A tear leaked out the side of my eye.

He sat back, grabbing my shirt, his knife
sliced through the fabric, exposing my chest. The scared little
girl I confined to the depths of my being began to shriek, fear
wrenching her loose. My body reacted, wiggling against his
hold.

“I don’t think so.” He rammed the pistol into
my forehead, indenting my skin. “I am going to do what you did to
me. You fucked me in the ass…it’s only fair, bitch.”

My lungs halted, icy hot waves of terror
flushed logic, my system going into sheer panic. Screaming, I
crawled and bit at him.

“Stop it, bitch!” He slammed the butt of the
gun into my temple. “The more you fight, the deeper I cut!”

His blade traced between my breasts. Arlo
smirked, licking his lips, before he dragged the blade across my
chest, leaving a deep trench through my breastbone. My lips drove
apart, cries tore from my throat, my eyes leaking with pain, fear,
and anger. Blood oozed from the cuts, trickling down my sides to
the comforter. The violence and the control he had over me excited
him. I could feel his arousal as he ground into me. He lifted off
me just enough to flip me over on my stomach, one hand tugging at
my jeans. With the other hand he shoved the gun into the back of my
neck, pushing my face into the blankets. The horrors of his
declaration came to life.

No…not again.

“Oh yeah. I’m going to enjoy this.”

My past roared in like a bull, snorting and
knocking everything, colliding straight into my anger. I would not
let this disgusting piece of garbage make me that girl again. Old
nightmares filled my chest, images of my eleven-year-old self at
the mercy of… A growl deep and raw emerged from my gut. I bucked
back when I felt him slide my pants over my ass.

Nooooooo!

Air hissed in my ear, and suddenly I was
across the room, standing up facing the sink. The mirror in front
of me showed a girl with a shirt ripped open, blood trailing down
her exposed torso, anger entrenched on her features, and her eyes
bright with hate and revenge.

It also displayed the man right behind her.
Arlo’s startled expression reflected in the glass over my shoulder.
His moment of hesitation was all I needed. I slammed my elbows into
his gut, causing him to stumble back. I twisted around and ploughed
into him, taking us both to the ground with a thud. The gun slid
out of his grip and skidded toward the door. We both scrambled for
it.

He swung the knife at me, slashing a cut from
my ribs to my hip. Blood poured from the wound onto the carpet and
saturated my clothes. I felt nothing. My heartbeat thumped in my
ears.

I punched out and struck him in the nose,
which I had broken before. He grunted, red liquid gushing from it.
I could not feel or think. My brain went primal, protecting the
young girl who couldn’t defend herself back then, fighting against
everyone who hurt or took advantage of her.

Ryker’s words came flooding back to me:
He
was a grown man, a repulsive human who took advantage of a young,
innocent girl. He is the sick fuck. You are not to blame.
It
had been the night I told him of my darkest secret, of the abuse.
For years I carried guilt that I had deserved it. Now I channeled
that fury into my fists. I had been so angry at myself for so long.
I felt weak, mad. I hadn’t stopped it. Let it happen to me.

I am not to blame
.

I no longer saw Arlo, but the man who abused
me.

Arlo’s abhorrence for me and mine for him
painted the walls and floor red. Hate, blame, pain, isolation could
turn you into the precise animal they claimed you were.

Knuckles cut across my face, a blade sliced
my shoulder, but I continued to fight. Punching, clawing, and
kicking, I completely lost myself in the violence, no longer a
girl, but a wounded animal seeking release from all the pain.

The sound of a gun blasted through the room,
wrenching us apart. Consciousness slammed back in, and I sucked in
the air I had forgotten to breathe. I blinked and opened my eyes to
see Amara standing in the doorway, the lock broken, Arlo’s gun in
her hand, the ground smoking.

“Get the fuck away from her.” Amara aimed the
gun straight at Arlo. “Now!”

Arlo slowly got to his feet, holding up his
hands, covered in blood. He limped toward Amara instead of
away.

“Amara. Come on. You of all people wanted to
get rid of this human. With her out of the way, you can have
everything you ever wanted.” He struggled to talk, his face looking
like minced meat. “Like Ryker. Take him back, Amara, steal him away
from this human bitch.”

I wanted to run after him, but even the
slightest movement sent pain slamming into the wound in my
torso.

A smile edged at her mouth. “Steal
Ryker?”

“Yes. Kill her and you will never have to
deal with this wretched human again.”

“Hmmm.” Amara tilted her head as if she was
considering it.

My lungs clenched, sadness prickled my eyes,
but I held my head up. This was what she always wanted. “Go
ahead.”

Amara rolled her eyes. “You are so fucking
righteous. It’s really annoying.”

Boom!
The gun discharged, vibrating
the room. I closed my eyes, and I waited to feel the bullet explode
in my brain. Did you feel something like that, or did it just go
dark? Instead, I felt a spray of liquid cover my face.

Thump
.

My lids bolted open to see Arlo’s body fall
to the floor, his head a mess of pulp. Okay. Wow.

“We’re definitely going to have to change
rooms now. Blood is really hard to clean. And brain matter is
impossible to get out of carpet.”

My mouth gaped. “You shot him.”

“Clearly.” She looked over at me like I was
crazy.

“But…but…”

“I may not like you, Zoey, but killing you
will just make Ryker mope. He’s a bear when he’s sulking.” She
turned to me, then snarled at the dead body on the floor. “And this
asshole suggests I
steal
Ryker back? I only steal goods. I’m
not pathetic. Ryker will come back to me. There’s a
difference.”

“You saved my life.”

“Yeah, that was an unforeseeable event.”
Amara moved to the table, setting the gun down.

“Zoey!” Ryker’s voice rang over the parking
lot to the room, his boots hitting the pavement. He reached the
doorway and stopped. Sprig looked frozen in shock, holding a
doughnut halfway to his mouth. Ryker’s eyes scoured the room.

“Holy shit.” Ryker came to my side before I
took another breath.

“
Bhean?
” Sprig jumped from Ryker’s
shoulder onto the bed, looking overwhelmed and terrified by all the
blood.

“I’m fine, buddy.”

“Your guts are coming out,” he said, then
pointed down to Arlo. “And his brains are all over... oh my turtle
puffs…his brain is all over my honey packets. That’s really not
cool.” Sprig bent over, breathing deeply. “Oh, raven turds.” I
counted three more seconds before he fell face-first into the
comforter. Out cold.

“Poor guy.”

“Poor guy?” Ryker’s hands tore at my clothes
trying to find the source of all the blood. “Fuck.” He peeled away
my torn shirt. “You’ve been stabbed.”

I pushed myself against the dresser, taking
slow breaths.

“Amara, can you get all the towels from the
bathroom? And the bottle of scotch.”

“My scotch?” she whined, but stepped over me,
padding through the blood with her bare feet. “Maybe I should have
shot her.”

“Not funny,” Ryker snarled.

Amara swiped the bottle off the table and
handed it over to Ryker.

“Drink this.” He placed it in my hands. I
clutched the bottle, my fingers smearing bloody fingerprints over
the glass, and downed a gulp of the liquor. It burned down my
gullet.