Runaway Renegade (Ultimate Passage Book 4) (8 page)

A
li lay
on the bathroom floor in a mess of her own blood. Her wing refused to be severed from her body. She’s sawed and sawed. Stabbed and stabbed. She’d screamed her agony. Pleaded to relieve her of her wings.

She’d not taken into account the Asazi healing power. So as much as she’d stabbed, all she’d done was put herself in agony and spilled her own blood. The wing remained intact, but the amount of blood she’d lost had left her weak. And her wing and back were a mess of scars and lacerations. Scars upon scars, even twelve hours later.

She’d missed her shift at work. She should have called in sick. Too late now. Hopefully she could make up some story that would earn forgiveness for her no-show.

Ali sobbed into her blood-streaked hands. She threw the knife. It struck the mirror, shattering it, and then bounced back. The blade’s edge struck her thigh, creating a gash that immediately began to bleed. Ali covered it with a hand. Rising shakily to her feet, she reached for a washcloth by the sink. Clapping the terrycloth fabric to her thigh, she muttered an Asazi curse.

Then she saw her reflection in the shards that remained on the wall. She was pale. The palest blue, with red streaks haphazardly covering her face and arms. Her top was a tie-dyed mess of blood.

Ali burst into tears once more. The one thing she wanted, to get rid of her wings, she couldn’t even do because of her Asazi blood. Because Asazi healed.

Near Ali, her cell phone incessantly vibrated. Without looking to see who it was—because she knew, and was devastated that her Asazi roots kept them apart—she picked it up and threw it against the wall. The phone split into three pieces, the back, the front, and the battery all flying in different directions.

T
hane paced
up and down his apartment. He dialed her again.
Come on, come on.
Straight to voicemail. He texted her, asking if she was okay. And waited. No response.

He pushed the curtains aside, flung the French doors wide. He had to go check on her. Tossing caution to the wind, he took flight, catching a nice tailwind and propelling himself toward The Other Side. He’d sneak into his office and watch, to see if she were there. Maybe she was working and her phone was merely dead or out of order.

And if she isn’t there?
A nagging little voice poked at his heart.

***

Ali wasn’t there; she wasn’t at work. A glance at the schedule affirmed that she had been expected. There was no way this was good.

Worry pulled at him. Fear gnawed his gut. He slipped out of his corner office at The Other Side and into. He’d go up to the rooftop, hopefully unseen, then take flight for her place.

“Thane.”

Thane swung around.

Brohm.

Of all the most inopportune times for the senior Brethren to appear.

“Have you contacted the Kormic Elders?” Brohm wasted no time jumping directly into the topic for which he’d traveled all this distance.

“I did. Can we go somewhere more private?”

“Your apartment?”

Thane nodded, though he’d rather the Brethren would have handled this by phone.

Twenty minutes later, Thane alit on his balcony, stepping to the side to allow Brohm room to land.

He stayed on the balcony, hoping that not going inside and getting comfortable would let Brohm know he wasn’t interested in a
tête-à-tête
. Thane took out his phone, glancing to see if Ali had tried to call or text.

Nothing.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “There has been talk of Asazi. The Elders confirmed it. It will be taken care of.”

“Personally?”

Thane fought to keep from rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to be guilty of lying.

He exhaled an exasperated sigh. “I’ll see to it.”

“Do you understand how important this is?”

All the years of keeping his silence had taken their toll. Thane couldn’t do it anymore. “No. I really don’t see it.” He stretched his wings partially then pulled them tight against his back. “There are so many beings on Earth, what difference does one new species make?”

Brohm did a double take, as if stunned. “Maybe your assignment to Earth should be reconsidered. Saraz must be—he cannot be allowed to have what he wants.” Brohm’s expression was full of bitterness, as if this was personal. “You should be reassigned. You’re negligent.”

Shalin. No. That would mean losing Ali.
There was no way they’d let him take her wherever he went next. And if they compelled him to forget his time here, would he forget her too? And even if he could take her with him, would she want to go? He swallowed a lump of fear in his throat and refrained from clenching his hands into fists. “That seems a bit drastic.”

“Does it? I will seek counsel on the matter.” Brohm turned away from Thane and studied the Los Angeles city lights.

“One does have to wonder why you have such vehemence toward Saraz and his descendants.” Thane focused the topic on Brohm. “It’s almost as if your feelings are personal.”

Thane wondered what it meant. Should he tell Brohm about the Elders’ designs to take care of Saraz? Would that appease the man? Would that make Brohm back off on the idea of seeking Thane’s reassignment?

“There’s one more thing.”

Brohm faced him. “What would that be?”

Thane released a breath he’d been holding, and with it, the frustration and eagerness to get Brohm out of there so he could go to Ali. “The Elders want to take care of Saraz.”

Brohm folded his arms over his chest, his wings furling and unfurling behind him. His robes moved with the light breeze. “That would not be the worst thing that could happen.”

Exactly what Thane figured. Brohm had no lost love for Saraz, though Saraz was as senior as Brohm. More senior, according to rumors Thane had heard. Brohm and Saraz had been rivals when Saraz was on Earth.

“Keep me posted.” Brohm’s tone had a hint of satisfaction in it. He twirled, robes flaring. His wings rose behind him, magnificent, black, gleaming. With a quick surge of energy, he rose from the balcony and headed directly upward.

Thane watched Brohm become smaller and smaller, making sure he was long gone and out of sight. He didn’t want Brohm to follow him to Ali’s.

Thane closed the double doors behind him and breathed in the Los Angeles evening air. With a motion as equally swift as Brohm’s, Thane unfurled his wings and heaved himself upward, ready to see Ali.

O
n the landing
in front of Ali’s front door, Thane frowned. Something felt off. The lights were out, nothing shone through any of the windows as he’d flown by. There was no noise coming from her apartment. No radio, no TV.

He raked his hands through his hair and leaned against the wall by her front door. He’d wait. Wherever she was, he’d wait for her to return.

A small noise caught his attention.

He cocked his head, trying to hear better. There it was again. And it was definitely coming from inside Ali’s apartment.

After one quick glance about to verify there were no witnesses in the late-night hours, Thane grabbed the handle and shouldered the door open with a fierce lunge.

He closed the door behind him. “Ali?”

No response.

“Hey.” He kept his voice low. Walking through the front hallway, he glanced around the living room, the open floor plan allowing him to not pause as he briskly made his way to the back of her apartment. Still no lights on, but his supernatural vision made short work of his surveillance. With long strides, he crossed her bedroom, only to find it empty.

Turning around, he wondered if it had been his imagination. Maybe the sound he’d heard had been a cat or a dog from one of her neighbors. Though he could have sworn differently. It absolutely sounded like Ali.

He glanced at the closed bathroom door. Took a step past it, then turned back.

Maybe?

Thane put his hand on the knob, a feeling of dread washing over him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Turning the knob, he held his breath and hoped it wasn’t locked.

Without sound or resistance the knob turned. He pushed on the lightweight door. After opening a few inches, the door was blocked. He looked down. A bare foot impeded the door’s progress.

A bare foot splattered with blood.

Shalin. Shed mercy.

“Ali?” He whispered her name, half in horror, and half in a horrible anticipation of the worst. He bent to nudge her foot aside and pushed the door open more.

The floor was covered in smeared blood. She was in a pair of panties. A T-shirt was lying in her lap. Her beautiful, glorious, painted body, in her club costume, was as smeared with blood as the floor.

Fuck. What had happened here?
He knelt close to her, his fingers finding the pulse on her neck. It was weaker than he’d have liked.

She moaned. Her eyes fluttered open. “Thane?” A look of confusion crossed over her face. “Where? What?”

“Shh.” Where was she bleeding from? He studied her mostly nude body, still in her body paint for the club, shades of blue and green glowing beneath the blood. Her wings peeked out from behind her. He couldn’t find any source for the blood that was semi-dry and congealing.

Her eyes closed once more.

He was loath to move her in case she was bleeding, but he couldn’t help her if he didn’t figure out what was wrong with her.

“Baby. I have to shift you to see what happened.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

Her eyes remained closed. “No.” The response was a whispered breath. “Please. Go away.”

As if he’d abandon her now, like this. “Not a chance.” He shook his head, though she couldn’t see him. Using as gentle a grip as he could, he pulled her forward slowly.

“What the hell?” His uttered words caused her to flinch.

He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her, but couldn’t stop staring. His eyes refused to be torn away from the devastation he was witnessing.

Her back was a line of scars, crisscrossing and fresh. The white lines didn’t seem to be older than a few weeks, yet they weren’t there the last time he’d seen her back.

How could this be? Quick healing—that sort of thing was something he’d expect from a Dumarian. Not a human. Not a woman who worked in a bar serving shots.

“What happened here?” He ran fingertips over the scars, pushing her wings aside to see if the blood was coming from her back.

She jerked when his hand touched her wings, and pulled away. He held her tighter.

“Want to tell me where the blood came from?”

“No.” She buried her face in his chest.

He traced circles on her shoulder, but he noticed the closer he came to her wing, where it was attached to her skin, the tenser she became. He studied the juncture. How did it appear so seamless? He pushed the thought aside. He needed to know about the blood.

Putting his hands under her, Thane lifted her, carrying her toward the bedroom.

“Where are you taking me?” she whispered.

“I’m just going to lay you down while I check you for wounds. This blood… there’s a lot of it. I can’t tell where it came from. Did you cut yourself?”

“No. I’m fine. Just need some rest.” Her voice was weak.

That may be all
she
needed, but Thane needed answers.

He laid her on the bed, taking care to place her on her side. “Your wings…”

Ali burst into tears, her body shaking with sobs.

Holy hell.

He pushed her hair out of her face. “Ali.”

The sobs became louder. He seemed incapable of saying anything that didn’t upset her. “I’m going for a washcloth to clean some of this blood off of you.”

“No.” Ali had stilled from the sobbing, but silent tears made their way down her face, streaking the blood trails, making tiny red rivulets that soaked her pillowcase.

She was on the bed, much like he’d left her. “Want to tell me what happened to you?”

“Nothing. I promise. I’m not bleeding.” Her tone was odd, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

She stood up and turned around, as if to prove a point. “See? Nothing. Not bleeding. I need to clean up.” She headed toward the restroom.

“And the blood? And the wings? I think we need to have a talk.”

She shook her head. “We will.” She walked into the restroom, her blood-splotched, painted body a messy, heartbreaking sight. He stood by the closed bathroom door, listening.

He heard the shower water start. Thane walked into the living room. They had a lot to talk about. Those wings. That skin. His pulse raced, adrenalin took over.

He was in love with an Asazi woman.

Wait.

No.

Ali had wings.

Asazi women did not have wings.

A sigh of relief escaped him. She was not on his list of those to kill. He could figure the rest out, as long as she wasn’t one he had to kill—or have killed.

What species is she?

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

“Zale. What’s up? This is a bad time.”

“More bad than you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Trouble. You’re in it.” Zale kept his voice low, as if worried.

Thane glanced at the door. He could still hear the water. “Care to be more specific?”

“I’m flying in. You’ll need help.”

“I don’t want you to get involved.”

“They’re talking about charging you with aiding the Asazi. I know that’s bullshit. I’m coming.” Zale ended the call.

Thane looked at the phone.
Shit
. In the background, the shower was still running. He needed her to hurry up. They needed to get out of here. Just in case.

He knocked softly. “Ali?”

No response.

“Hey.” A harder knock.

Still no response.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open slightly.

Ali was crumpled on the shower floor, halfway sitting with her knees tucked under her chin and her head drooping, in a soaking heap, being pelted by the showerhead.

He jerked the glass shower door open, turned the water off.

She raised her head. Her eyes were rimmed in red. The blood had washed away completely, but her skin was still the same shimmering color that it usually was when she was at the club. Her real skin.

“You should probably go away. Forever.”

What the fuck? What was she thinking?
“Never. I will never go away.”

“I am not right for you. I have too much baggage.”

“You are not the only one with baggage.”

“I doubt yours is worse than mine.” She tugged on her hair.

Thane stilled her hand, covering it with his own. Her hand was so tiny compared to his. Her body so slight next to his large frame.

He pulled her against him, tightly holding her, a willing prisoner in his arms. He carried her to the bed, wrapping a towel around her, her wings were retracted, laying flat on her back.

“Will you let me stay if I show you the very worst of what I am?”

T
hane stepped back
, unbuttoned his dress shirt, removed it, and then pulled his T-shirt over his head. He tossed both onto the bathroom counter, on top of the shattered mirror’s shards, then he pulled her to him once more, holding her close.

Against his body, Ali felt him shudder. She raised her eyes to his face. His skin took on a gray-ish black color, shimmering, glistening, scales forming that were larger than her Asazi scales. His were more defined and overlapped. His eyes became an iridescent lime green and his pupils were a vertical slit.

She held her breath. What in the world was he?

The transformation didn’t stop there. A set of wings appeared, pushing outward, rising behind him. Black, thick, glossy, a hook at the top of each, in the center.

“What are you?”

He converted, turning into her dark-skinned human lover once more.

“I am Dumarian.”

“I have no idea what that is.”