Hearts of Darkness (22 page)

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Authors: Kira Brady

BOOK: Hearts of Darkness
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“What do you think?” Norgard asked when the door closed. He turned in a circle, showing off his toned body beneath the smooth fall of the silk. “Eat some chocolate, darling. It's good for you. Plenty of antioxidants to keep you looking young.” He slithered closer, and Kayla braced herself for his touch.
She had to hide her revulsion. If she could pretend it was someone else, someone whose body she was actually attracted to, maybe he wouldn't notice the stiffness in her back and shoulders. Maybe he wouldn't notice her gag when he touched her.
Oh, please don't notice.
But the only person she could think of was Hart. Hart's broad, muscled shoulders leaning over her. Hart's strong chest against her back, and his warm breath tickling her neck. Hart's arousal pressed against her backside.
Heaven help her. Was it better to remember the man who'd betrayed her than to think of this psycho? And what did that say about her, that even though Hart had abandoned her to this fate, she still wanted him?
She was a fool.
“I can make this pleasurable for you,” Norgard whispered in her ear. “Very.” He stepped away from her, and she breathed again.
She needed a weapon. There wasn't any furniture small enough to lift, or any spare knives lying around. Not that she knew how to use a knife. A scalpel, maybe. A syringe. If she had an ACE bandage, she could make a mean wrap. Her healing skills were useless. Could she perpetrate violence, even in self-defense?
Yes. Yes, she could. The iron candelabra caught her eye, but it wouldn't detach from the wall without a full set of tools. The candles themselves weren't heavy enough. Would a Dreki burn if he were set on fire? Or did that whole fire-breathing-dragon thing mean that he was flame-resistant?
Think, damn it.
If she got out of here, she was going to sign up for boxing lessons.
A bottle of wine sat in an ice bucket on the bedside table. That might work.
Norgard picked up a box of the vile chocolates sitting next to the wine and held them out. “Eat more chocolate.”
Kayla shook her head. “Oh, I couldn't—”
“I said eat.”
She took one and popped it in her mouth, because he was watching. “These are so good,” she said around a mouthful.
“The future of my people depends on you.” Norgard pulled the heavy bottle of sparkling wine from the bucket and poured two glasses. He handed one to her.
She accepted the glass, but didn't drink. Her cheeks hurt from smiling.
“This was Desiree's favorite vintage.” Norgard took a sip. He had taken off the monocle. His pupils were elongated, which Kayla was beginning to understand was a sign of his excitement.
She eyed the wine bottle. It was heavy, but portable. If she screwed this up she wouldn't get another chance. Norgard stood between her and it. She had to get behind him.
“Let me help you out of that robe,” she said. How would she act if she thought herself a little bit in love? Trusting? Playful? Desi had been the actress, not her. Desi had played the flirt well. She wondered how long Desi had known Norgard was psychotic. How long Desi had pretended to love him, while she plotted behind his back. She must have been terrified.
Kayla could do this. She only had to pretend for a few more minutes. She forced herself to walk up to Norgard—swinging her hips a little—and reached up to touch his chest. The coldness of his skin made her snatch her hand back.
He chuckled and took her hand in his long thin fingers. “Perhaps I should have fed more recently—”
“Oh, no. I'll warm you up.” She traced her fingers over his cool skin. Wow. Those were indeed tiny scales. She had pet a boa at the zoo once, and this felt just like it. Smooth and textured. The scales ran flawlessly over his sculpted muscles, and if she weren't looking so close, she wouldn't have known it wasn't human skin.
She shot him what she hoped was a sultry glance from underneath her lashes, and slid around to his back, trailing her hand over his shoulder. He was thinner than Hart, but he was still far bigger than Kayla. There would be no contest in a battle of strength, even if he were human. She'd only have one shot to knock him out. He was almost too tall for her to get a good swing.
The bottle felt cold as she closed her right hand around it. She reached her left arm around his waist, slipped inside his robe, and closed her fingers over his erection.
Norgard groaned.
The bottle slipped in her sweaty grasp, and she had to readjust her hold. Her other hand, well, she didn't care a fig if it felt clammy. If she let go for one second, no power on earth could get her to put her hand back there again.
She pretended to rest her head on Norgard's back, while in reality wiping her brow on his robe. His scent of cinnamon and iron was thick and cloying, making it even harder to take a deep breath.
This was it.
“Darling,” Norgard said, twisting his head around to look at her. “Your enthusiasm is more than welcome, but your technique could use a little work.”
Of all the . . .
The bottle slipped from her hand and crashed to the ground, spilling wine all over her robe and the rug.
Chapter 13
The bottle hadn't broken, but Kayla had lost her element of surprise. Damn, damn, damn! She used the distraction to let go of Norgard, surreptitiously wiping her left hand on her robe.
“I'm so sorry,” she said, trying not to burst into tears. Her one chance at freedom was ruined. “You're right. I was too enthusiastic and knocked over the bottle with my big ass.” She laughed. Even to her ears it sounded crazed.
Norgard
tsk-tsked
, but he seemed to buy the dumb-blonde act. He even grabbed her ass, as if measuring it. “I can see how you might be clumsy with that waving around.”
She desperately pasted on a flirty smile. “Here, let me get this.” She bent to pick up the bottle, knowing she'd missed her chance to knock him out from behind.
Suddenly, the room shook. An alarm went off and a red light on the ceiling she hadn't noticed before began to blink rapidly. A second blast rocked the room. Explosives?
Norgard scowled. He marched over to a panel on the wall, pushed a button and spoke through some sort of hidden microphone. “What are you waiting for? Send out the guards.” He listened to someone on the other end. “No, all of them. Now, blast you!”
It took five seconds for her brain to realize this was her big chance. Norgard had forgotten all about her. His back was to her, and he was concentrating on whatever was being said through the intercom.
Kayla grabbed the bottle from the floor and strode toward him. Pure adrenaline fired her body. There was no room for doubt or fear. The floor seemed to stretch for miles before she reached her target. With a shaking hand, she raised the bottle and swung.
The bottle connected with a smash.
Norgard crumpled to the floor with his skull partially caved in. She stared at the blond hair now matted with blood. She had done this. Her hands, pledged into the service of healing, had taken a life. She wanted to throw up, but she forced herself to keep moving. She couldn't think about the sound his head had made when the bottle connected with it. Couldn't think about the warm wetness that had splashed her face when it hit.
The alarm still blared, and the flashing red light cast a bloody glow over the entire room. On the wall, the radio receiver crackled. Someone spoke from it, asking if everything was all right. No, it most definitely wasn't. But she couldn't say that. Soon someone would check to see what had happened to Norgard.
Time to get the hell out.
 
 
Hart disengaged the outside monitors—an easy task and one, with electrical outages common, that wouldn't attract attention—and crouched beneath a rhododendron bush against the brick foundation of the chocolate factory. The thickly leaved bush hid him from view above, and he counted on the Drekar being too preoccupied to smell him. Crows watched the other entrances and the street. Johnny kept them quiet. It was one small piece of luck, as long as Johnny wasn't waiting to stab him in the back.
Hart didn't think so. He had no reason to trust a Kivati, but his gut said the kid was telling the truth.
A half mile up the canal, Oscar had lit the C-4 along the Ballard Locks, blowing the concrete barrier between the ocean water and the freshwater canal. Flames from the explosions painted the clouds overhead red and orange. A thick pillar of smoke billowed into the sky. The aquifer that brought water from the Locks to the factory creaked and buckled as a wall of water roared through the narrow waterway.
Hart wondered if it would flood the factory. He hadn't counted on that. He wiped his forehead with a shaky arm. He could do this. Please, Lady, let him last a few more hours. Just until he set things right.
Alarms blared from the factory. A dozen Drekar soldiers, battle ready, burst out of the front doors. Focused on the flames and smoke in the distance, they overlooked Hart's hiding spot. When they hit the wide grassy lawn, their bodies morphed. Thighs quadrupled in size. Spines elongated and turned into thick, muscled tails with razor-sharp spines. Six-foot, leathery batlike wings sprouted out of their shoulder blades. Hard green-black scales sprouted over their skin. The dragons soared into the air and faded against the night sky.
Hart was ready. He slipped onto the porch and through the door before it shut. Johnny flew in behind him and Changed on the tasting room floor.
“You're supposed to lead them on,” Hart growled.
“I'm protecting Rudrick's assets,” Johnny said. He pulled the Aether to swirl around his naked body, and when it cleared he wore black pants and a long-sleeved black shirt. A sheath of arrows hung at his back and a yew crossbow settled securely in his grip. The arrow shafts were crafted from Thunderbird feathers and—guided through the Aether—always found their mark. The iron heads were dipped in venom of the Giant Spider.
“Just don't get in my way,” Hart snapped. He slid through the dark tasting room and through the production room doors. Inside, the cocoa bean roasters and boilers whirred and clicked, stirring their chocolate all through the night. Not all the chocolate was drugged, just the stuff Norgard gave women. The red alarm lights blinked on and off, bathing the room alternately in red and pitch black. His eyes had trouble adjusting to the assault. He hoped his nose would alert him to danger. The whole place smelled like iron and chocolate, with a faint tinge of brimstone. Typical Drekar scents, but in this enclosed area they were overpowering. He resisted a sneeze.
They wove around machines to the far end of the production floor, where two giant gold doors led to the tunnels below. He'd never been down there.
Grace was waiting. She unlocked the doors from the inside and cracked them enough for Hart and Johnny to slip through. She glared at Johnny, but motioned both to follow her down the slanting tunnel. Her red silk robe billowed out behind her as she hurried along the passage.
It was odd to see her in a color not black. Worse to realize there was nowhere she could hide her blades beneath the thin silk. She must be unarmed. How did she stand it?
The tunnels seemed empty of life. Grace led them down four levels, past thick tapestries depicting Drekar history and many locked doors with dragon bone handles. With each step Hart wrestled his growing fear.
What if he was too late? The image swept over him. He had to stop and brace himself against the wall.
No, Kayla was still alive. He knew it. She was too damn stubborn to quit now.
“Look lively, werewolf,” Johnny whispered as he notched an arrow in his bow. “We've got company.”
Heavy footsteps echoed from the other side of the hall.
“I can't be seen with you,” Grace said quickly. “Norgard's private residence is at the end of this hallway, third door on your right. It'll open into another hallway. Go to the end and turn left. May the gods go with you.” She disappeared into the shadows.
Hart knew he had to cover her retreat. He drew his pistol as he slipped into a doorway for cover. Johnny mirrored him on the other side of the hallway.
“Identify yourself,” a guard called. There were three of them, each heavily armed.
Time slowed. A bullet whizzed past Hart's head and struck the lintel above him. He aimed and fired, and a piece of wall next to the guard's head exploded.
“Go. I'll cover for you,” Johnny said.
Hart eyed him dubiously, but he wasn't about to turn down the offer. Johnny fired a succession of arrows at the guards. Hart used the cover to dash down the hallway. A bullet nicked his leg as he raced around the corner of the hall and reached safety. It wasn't too bad, but it hurt like a bitch. He compartmentalized the pain, letting the adrenaline fire his system.
A faint trace of lilac caught his nose. Kayla had been down this way. He followed her scent down two more corridors, along the path Grace had instructed him to take. As he rounded the corner to Norgard's private chambers, a body slammed into his chest.
“Kayla!” He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in Kayla's unmistakable scent. She was in his arms again. Her full breasts pushed against his chest. The soft curve of her stomach pressed unbearably against his groin.
His woman.
It was a good thing he was retiring from the mercenary business, because his sudden lack of objectivity was a real liability.
The madness boiled up inside him, overwhelming his brain with carnal instinct. If he lowered his head just a bit more, he could sink his teeth into her long, swanlike neck. Her scent called to him, made him wild with lust. It was all he could do to keep himself from bending her over and claiming her right there.
But the moon didn't have control of him yet. He still had a few more hours. It was going to take every shred of his self-control to get her out of here and secure before he lost himself to the madness.
He forced himself to detach from the feel of her in his arms. He swept the dark hallway, gun at the ready. Once he'd confirmed they were alone, he released her.
She scrambled back. Her eyes were wide with fright, her hair a mess, but she looked otherwise unharmed. She wore a long silk robe with embroidered cuffs at the wrists and neck. Viking runes decorated her cheeks, neck, and the back of her hands. The symbol for Freya was written in blood across her forehead.
“Hart?” Kayla whispered. “You bastard!” She rushed him. Her hand connected with his cheek, knocking his head back with a snap.
For a woman who hated violence, she sure had a mean right hook. He wrapped an arm restrictively around her and covered her mouth with his large hand. “Shh,” he whispered. “You can light into me all you want, but wait till we get out of here.”
Lady, he could drown in her eyes, even full of mistrust and anger as they were now. He wished, not for the first time, that he could be someone else. Almost anyone else. Some normal human without blood on his hands. Someone who could ask this beautiful woman on a date and have a normal, human conversation with her.
But it wasn't going to happen. He didn't deserve to breathe the same air. The best thing he could do for her was get far, far away.
“Do you know how to shoot?” he asked, handing her his second pistol.
She stared at the weapon like he'd handed her a cobra. “No. I'm not going to kill anyone . . . anyone else. I think I killed Norgard.”
“Did you cut off his head?”
She shook her head.
“Too bad. He'll recover. Those guards are going to try to kill you, so take it.” He folded her fingers over the handle. “It's doubtful you'll hit anything without training, but just shooting in their direction will help. They aren't human.”
“Maybe not human, but they're still people.”
“They're murderous soul-suckers. Once you're free, you can choose never to touch another weapon in your life, if it makes you happy. But first let's get out of here alive. I left a Crow holding down a position back there. Stay behind me. Stay close. If something happens to me, head up the tunnel to the top. Keep to the walls.” He motioned her back the way he'd come, leading the first steps out of this prison.
His biceps might be bare of the gold manacles, but the small fierce woman behind him trapped him more tightly than before. She didn't even know it. He would never be free again. He wasn't sure he wanted to be.
 
 
Kayla had slipped beyond fear and into an adrenaline-fueled haze that she'd only read about in medical books. People were actually shooting at her. It was surreal. She'd heard enough gunfire in Philly to recognize the sound, but it had never been directed at her before. The wall in front of her exploded. Hart yanked her down and out of the line of fire. If he hadn't been there, she wouldn't have made it out of the chocolate factory alive.
Of course, if not for Hart she might never have been in the chocolate factory in the first place, but who could say for sure? Norgard could have sent someone else to pick her up. Once he had made up his mind that Desiree's sister could carry his heir, it seemed doubtful that he would let anything interfere with kidnapping her.
Maybe she was being too easy on Hart, but her anger at his betrayal was nowhere near as strong as her relief at being alive and free. Besides, he'd come back for her.
She could tell it hadn't been an easy decision or execution for him. Lines of strain stood out around his mouth. His face was an unhealthy shade of gray.
They ran into Johnny the Crow a few paces up the tunnel, just past the bodies of three guards.
“I'm going to snoop around,” Johnny said. “Can't waste an opportunity like this one to check out Norgard's lair. Don't wait up for me. If you need help, Rudrick will give you safe passage.”
“Suit yourself.” Leading her back up the tunnel, Hart kept her carefully shielded with his body as they entered the production room floor and crept around giant chocolate machines. From the tunnel, guards shot at them.
“Go! Go!” Hart ordered, giving her a push.

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