Katie's Hellion (Rhyn Trilogy, Book One) (15 page)

"Fire!"

The shout went unnoticed until the panicked
bartender grabbed the mike of the lead rocker.

"Everyone get out!"

She stared at him dumbly until the crowd
forced her toward the exit. She let the bodies pressed against her
shove her into the chilled night and blinked back her blurred gaze
until she saw her German friends. Smoke billowed blacker than night
above orange-yellow flames that mesmerized her.

The whole top of the building --where the
hostel was housed --was on fire. The flames were beautiful and
entrancing. She and the Germans stood in silent awe, too drunk to
feel the cold.

"Rhyn, is it?"

She blinked and turned at the voice, not
recognizing the American nerd until her vision cleared.

"Funny name for a girl."

"Whatever," she said curtly.

"I told my friends about your tat. Mind
showing it to them? My friend Ziggy’s a tattoo artist in San
Francisco. Thought he’d like yours. It’s kinda unique."

She sighed, her instincts too dulled by beer
to warn her. She had nothing better to do, not with her source of
alcohol gone and her bed in flames.

"You guys got any whiskey?" she asked,
trailing him through the crowd.

He held up a bottle. "I grabbed this when
everyone started panicking."

"Vodka? No way."

He lowered the bottle. She didn’t notice how
far they’d gone until the blazing bar disappeared around a corner.
Only then did her senses register the three men before her, the
alley, and the familiar bloodlust in their glowing eyes. This time,
there was no mistaking the tattoos on their bodies.

She spun, the action rocking her precarious
balance, only to come face-to-face with the American nerd.

"You don’t want to do this," she blurted out.
"I taste like shit."

One laughed.

"You should be used to it, or you wouldn’t
wear your dead master’s mark."

"Dead? He’s not dead," she replied. "In fact,
I’m expecting him any minute."

"No one leaves his mate in a place like this.
Penniless? Alone? Obviously too long under his keep to know what to
do with herself in the real world?"

Mate?

"He’s bigger than you," she warned.

"Bigger than this, bitch?" the American nerd
demanded, shoving her against a building and riding his erection
against her backside.

"I’ve seen popsicles bigger than you,
jackass!" she snapped.

He pulled her away from the wall and
backhanded her hard enough for her to feel nauseous. She was too
drunk to feel the landing. He licked his hand, where blood from her
lip remained.

"Sweet," he whispered, closing his eyes to
savor her. "The Ancients always choose the sweetest blood
monkeys."

"You can lie there still like you did for
your master while we do our thing, or we can tie you and beat you
into submission and then do our thing. Either way, we do our
thing," another reasoned, kneeling near her.

"Let me think," she said, and rolled her
eyes. "Why don’t you walk away now before a certain Ancient tears
you into pieces."

"Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen your type
before. You won’t last the night anywhere you go. He made his mark;
it draws us to you."

She frowned, wondering when someone would
explain the rules of this game to her. Wobbling, she rose, familiar
coldness replacing the alcoholic warmth inside her.

"Sweet, little, defenseless, bet you're wet
and taste just as sweet," the man who’d tasted her said. His eyes
glowed more unnaturally than the others, the taste of her addling
his senses. He looked like the rabid dog she’d expected Rhyn to
be.

"Chill, Dean. First we all drink, then you
can fuck her up," another warned.

"Appreciate the chivalry," Katie
retorted.

If ever you were going to appear, Rhyn, now's
the time!

Dean backhanded her again, following her to
the ground. He pounced, tearing at the jumper. Her head spun. She
batted at him with clumsy arms, at last landing a punch in the
neck, as the creatures in Hell had taught her. He gagged. She tried
to shove him off, but he snagged her hips and dragged her down,
pinning her hands over her head.

She squirmed. His knife cut through her
jumper, slicing into her skin.

"Dean, fuck, chill man! She’s gotta last the
night! We’re all famished!"

She cried out, and the other three pried him
off. She scrambled up, watching them wrestle Dean until he shook
them off. She looked down at her newest cut. It wasn’t deep but it
stung. At their silence, her gaze returned to them.

She saw their expressions change as they got
a whiff of her blood. Whatever control they hoped to maintain
slipped.

"I’m warning you," she said again, backing
away. "If you…"

She heard the beastly snarl and caught the
blurred mass of darkness, punctuated only by two flashes of silver,
as Rhyn flew by her. A new terror filled her. As if the four
fledgling vampires weren’t enough…She turned and ran. One of them
snagged her, but his attention shifted at the strangled cry and
sound of snapping bones. Dean’s head sailed over them. She stared
in horror and launched forward. The vampire holding on to her
didn’t fight her but joined her, running with her from the
possessed shapeshifter. She followed him, praying he knew the town
better than her, until they ran into a dead end.

Rhyn shoved her into the side of the building
with a massive paw, holding her there for a split second as a
warning before he launched himself at the vampire. She heard the
kid scream and hunched her shoulders, nearly vomiting at the sounds
of his body being torn apart. When there was silence, she felt the
beast approach her, its bloodied fangs at the same level as her
head.

"Is it too late to say sorry?" she
managed.

He growled low, and she jumped, squeezing her
eyes closed. Swallowing hard, she tilted her head to one side in a
display she hoped he took to be an apology. There was a long pause
before she sensed him change forms behind her. He gripped her
throat roughly and pulled her against his body. Her body shook, but
she didn’t dare fight him, not when he was so pissed.

There was no pain this time when he bit her,
only numbness. She almost cried in relief. He didn’t hurt her, even
when she had obviously infuriated him. He drank longer than he had
before and withdrew at last with a satisfied growl.

"Can’t take you anywhere without you
beheading folks," she whispered.

"That I let them die fast is not something
I’ll do for you if you betray me again."

"I’d rather die than be stuck in a cave."

"You think I can’t replace you with a
willing
nymph who knows her place?"

By the stillness of the body at her back, he
was deciding her fate. She waited, her breathing growing shallower
and faster.

"Now you have nothing to say," he snarled.
"You taste like cheap whiskey."

His words were accompanied by a push. He
walked away. She gasped in air, heart soaring. She’d escaped death
again, but how many lives did she have? Near hyperventilating, she
bent over and drew in deep breaths until moonlight revealed the
dismembered hand near her feet.

She darted after him, cold on the inside yet
still buzzing from whiskey. He walked through the town to a large
bed and breakfast near its edge. She didn’t look up as they walked
through a comfortable living room with several guests talking
loudly about the fire. They grew silent as Rhyn entered and stared
her down as well.

She followed him up a set of regal stairs to
the second floor, where multiple rooms lined a hallway. He
disappeared into one without turning on the light. She trailed,
groping around the wall nearest the door until she found a light
switch.

There were two beds in the room and a single
bathroom off to one side along with a small living area. He said
nothing, and she sensed his simmering anger. She sat on a trunk at
the end of one bed. He flung off clothing soaked with blood,
stripping with his back to her without one concern about her
watching.

He was muscled like the panther-beast he
turned into. She felt both awed and terrified watching his
rippling, shapely muscles move beneath the olive skin. His
shoulders and upper arms bulged while his long torso was lean and
chiseled. He changed mechanically, as if accustomed to removing
bloody clothing several times a day. He tugged on loose judo pants
and flung himself on his back on the bed nearest the door.

"You’re acting like you’re normal," she
objected, tears rising. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You run
around turning into animals and tearing off people’s heads and then
just…a bed and breakfast? Come
on!
Now you’ll just lay there
and go to sleep? Is this where you hung out while I was in that
cave?"

He pulled a pillow across his face, ignoring
her. She stood and glared at him, wanting to cry, scream, and sleep
all at once. Instead, she marched to the bathroom and took the
hottest shower she could tolerate to try and take off the alcoholic
edge. Her shot nerves calmed until she rubbed a towel against the
misty mirror and saw the tattoo again.

Rhyn.

Fury at her situation rose hard and fast. She
suppressed it with deep breaths. She’d been to Hell and back;
Ireland with a moody predator was far better than that. She put on
the jumpsuit she hated and emerged, expecting her first night of
good sleep in a week.

Her nose wrinkled at a familiar scent, and
she looked first at the plate full of raw fish on the table and
then at the silver-eyed predator with his roped forearms displayed
across his wide, bare chest. His look was calculating and
judging.

"That’s it!"

She crossed to the table and lifted one from
the plate, flinging it at him.

"You miserable son of a bitch! You all
deserve to be in Hell! Damn you, Toby for ruining my life, and
Gabriel and Ully and Andre…"

With each name, she flung a fish at him. He
was unaffected, batting the dead creatures away like flies.

"…and you, Rhyn, who should owe me something
for freeing you from the depths of Hell! Fuck you all! I swear to
God, I’ve had it with all this shit. One week ago, I was normal.
Normal!
I know you don’t know what the fuck that is, but it
means no immortal monsters sucking my blood and tearing up my body,
no tattoos, no four-hundred-thousand-year-old angels in the bodies
of five-year-olds, no buildings exploding when I get near them, no
trip to Hell. And no raw fish!"

He stared at her, and she flung the plate at
him, furious at his lack of reaction. He didn’t care. He
couldn’t
care. Monsters couldn’t care!

Tears stung her eyes.

"Kris was right. I need to help him save the
world from jackasses like
you.
"

His eyes flared then narrowed. He moved
toward her slowly, body tense.

"Oh, now you give a damn!" she snapped,
backing away. "It’s personal, isn’t it? Like it’s been for me for
the past fucking week! Kris, Kris, Kris!"

With each mention of his name, Rhyn’s eyes
flared hotter. A low growl started deep in his chest, a warning
that penetrated her rampage. She stepped back and whirled, darting
toward the door. He snatched her around the waist and lifted
her.

"Damn you, Rhyn!"

He flung her on the bed, and she launched up,
meeting a wall of pure male. His solid, warm body atop hers
immobilized her and he pinned her wrists to the bed, silver eyes
blazing and elongated fangs resting on his full lower lip. She
strained, unable to move but no longer caring if he did kill
her.

"Fuck you, Rhyn," she said again, his silver
eyes blurry through her tears. "I want my life back!"

"This. Is. Your. Life."

His words were controlled with effort, his
body so tense, she thought he’d snap any second.

"You. Are. Mine."

"No!"

"You. Are. Mine."

She began to cry, no longer able to deny what
she knew deep down: she’d never get her life back. Even without
some sadistic creature’s name around her neck, things would never
be the same.

"There’s nowhere you go where I cannot
follow. Kris’s
pets
can go anywhere but Hell. I can find you
even there, and I will. I claimed you. You. Are. Mine.
Forever."

She sobbed, her emotions from the week’s
events breaking free. He released her without another word, and she
curled onto her side, weeping not only for the bizarre world she’d
entered but from the realization she’d never, ever,
ever
return to hers.

Rhyn stormed out of the bed and breakfast.
The streets of Dublin were too busy for him. He felt claustrophobic
in the city, needed air and space. Without a thought as to who
might be watching, he ducked into an alley and flung himself into
the air. Pain blazed through him as he took the shape of the
ancient creature. He beat the air mercilessly with his wings,
rising high above the city and coasting on cold wind currents until
he reached the ocean. He floated on the updraft of air off the
water and then drifted to the beach below, changing into his human
form as he landed with a gentle thud on rocky sand.

You. Are. Mine

He hadn't believed the words himself until he
said them. He hadn't wanted them to be true. He wanted to fulfill
his promise to Gabriel, piss off his brothers, and then walk
away.

It wasn’t quite as easy as he thought,
especially since she was so helpless.

The doll with the large blue eyes crying on
the bed bothered him on more levels than he wanted to admit. He'd
meant to piss her off earlier, keep her from developing any sort of
affection for someone who had no intention of keeping her.

That, too, was more for him than her. The
minute he found her missing from the cave, he'd felt an uneasy,
unfamiliar sense of concern. He didn't just notice she was gone
--he found himself wishing she wasn't.