Shameless Desire (The Outlawed Realm) (9 page)

Staci covered her face with her hand.

Gwen muttered something beneath her breath, then asked, “Have you tried to follow the guards again so you can return to your realm and people—pack?”

He thought of Zule, his mate on E4, a female he’d loved. For him, her smile and body had always been welcoming, her future his to protect. He’d failed her in that, not being at her side when danger came. Upon his return, he’d found her brutalized. Murdered.

“No,” he muttered. “Here, the guards have no Palace in which to hide. It’s easier for me to locate and stop them from what they’re doing in this realm.” He cradled Gwen’s hand within his own, his touch far gentler than his words, his resolve unwavering. “To kill as many of them as I can.”

Chapter Seven

The quest hadn’t gone well.

Etaw huddled against the building’s rough façade, a stance he’d never taken on E4. There, he was a feared guard. On this realm, he was too vulnerable, hunted like an animal. Nervously, he fingered the device that would bring him back to his dimension, wanting to use it, knowing he could not. Flight wasn’t possible until he finished his mission.

“Bring me one of the werewolves that escaped,”
Vakar had ordered earlier.
“And another female. If you expect to please me, do not return without them.”

Etaw’s sole purpose was to gratify E2’s highest ruler. To please Vakar was to assure an ample supply of food and access to the pleasure slaves, female and male. To do with them what he willed, while also escaping punishment or death.

Sweat ran down his face and stung his eyes. He blinked it and the rain away, knowing he had to concentrate in order to survive this.

From his vantage point, he regarded the body in the alley—Purlo’s—another guard from E4. Each of the man’s limbs ended in a grisly stump, his feet and hands gone. Blood pooled in the crevasses where Purlo’s throat and face had once been. Five dogs stood near his corpse, their hind legs stiffened, tails tucked in, showing their apprehension. Intent on smelling death, they paid Etaw no heed.

He used their distraction to think, plan. He could fire his tranquilizer darts to immobilize them but decided against it, not wanting to waste his weapon on something he couldn’t bring back to Vakar. A quick glance revealed there wasn’t anything in the vicinity that he could use to startle the dogs, except himself.

At last, he bolted from the shadows. The animals scattered. Several yelped. One remained, refusing to leave its find. Hackles raised, lips pulled back, it snarled.

Etaw halted, not moving forward, nor did he retreat.

Emboldened, the stray padded closer, head down, teeth bared.

Etaw’s skin crawled. However, he held his ground—his only choice—and waited. He’d battled werewolves before and hadn’t died. This creature wasn’t nearly their size, nor did it own their cunning and ferocity. The animal inched closer, the sounds it made intensified, bristling with menace.

That’s it. Come nearer. Nearer still, you stupid… Now!

As hard as he could, Etaw kicked. The toe of his shoe struck the dog’s jaw. It flew back and landed on its side. Blood poured from its mouth. The other animals scurried from their hiding places and out of sight.

He rushed to Purlo’s body, taking the man’s weapon and remaining tranquilizer darts. Once they were in his pockets, he looked for Purlo’s device that opened portals. Leaving it here for those on this plane to find was unthinkable.

On and on he searched. The device wasn’t anywhere on the man.

Etaw’s hands shook, his agitation and panic mounting. He didn’t see the device in the space surrounding Purlo. Had one of the dogs been curious as to what it was and taken it momentarily like a piece of meat or a bone?

He glanced up and down the alley, not spotting the instrument, uncertain what to do next. Follow the animals to the street they went down and search there? He took a few steps in that direction, then, on a hunch, returned to Purlo’s body, hefting the man’s torso, rolling him to his belly. Etaw’s breath rushed out on a relieved sigh. Somehow, the device had fallen beneath Purlo’s shoulders.

Pocketing the instrument, Etaw again scanned his surroundings, wary of the male humans on this side. However, his greatest fear was of the werewolves. They were deliberately hunting him and the other guards who kept crossing over on Vakar’s orders.

Was one of the creatures close again now, its murder of Purlo not enough to satisfy? Was it…?

He flinched at a noise, a popping sound heard frequently on these streets at night. Muted screams followed. Seconds later, there was the sound of a motor.

Etaw shifted his weight, terrified to stay, afraid to leave.

Frozen with indecision, he considered what it would mean if he returned to E4 without a prize. He’d witnessed what had happened to others when they’d failed Vakar.

E2’s highest ruler had sent additional men here to search for the first guards who’d crossed over in pursuit of the pleasure slaves. Three men from the second group came back without anything to show for their efforts. Vakar ordered stakes driven through their hands and feet, which secured them to trees in E4’s jungle. There, he left them for the subhumans and werewolves to feed on.

Etaw shuddered at the memory of the men’s screams, the thought of claws and teeth tearing at his flesh while he was still conscious and trapped. He had no choice except to face that or remain here and hunt.

Steeling himself, he bolted down the alley to another part of the city. Hopefully, he’d locate a vulnerable female before the werewolves found him.

Gwen debated whether to press Kuma on what he’d said minutes ago. Since then, he’d fallen silent, his expression troubled as though he was reliving some horror in his mind. She sensed it didn’t have anything to do with him killing the guard tonight.

As Gwen formulated and dismissed another question in her thoughts, Staci suddenly shot to her feet. Her hip rattled the table.

“I need a beer,” the girl said, then spoke to Gwen. “You?”

Hard liquor was more like it. Too bad she didn’t have any on hand. Holding back a weary moan, Gwen nodded.

Staci inclined her head to Kuma. “Him too?”

Did werewolves drink beer? What about their preference in food? Did they eat what regular people did, or would that somehow hurt their digestive systems? Not knowing the answers, Gwen lifted her shoulders.

Staci didn’t ask Kuma what he wanted. She returned from the fridge with three Heinekens and put one in front of him.

“Have you ever had this before?” Gwen asked.

He studied the bottle. “No.”

“Here.” She removed the cap and handed him the brew.

In true wolf fashion, he sniffed the top of the bottle and made a face.

“Get him a bottled water,” Gwen told Staci, then turned back to him. What she’d meant to say died in her throat.

Kuma frowned. “Did you hear something?” He regarded the back door.

Gwen placed her hand on his, stopping him before he stripped again and began another transformation. Even though she couldn’t discount what he was, having seen it firsthand, she didn’t want a repeat. How in the hell was any of this possible? Where had the dimensions come from? Were their origins as mysterious as what had caused the Big Bang? Did the government know about this?

How could they? Those fools couldn’t balance the freaking budget.

She tried to reconcile what was happening with the world she thought she knew and couldn’t quite get there. A moment ago, she’d been about to ask if Kuma wanted something to eat when she recalled the fallen guard, his gnawed-off body parts. If what Kuma had said was true about the guard mistreating the pleasure slaves, the prick probably deserved what he got. Even so…

“I didn’t hear anything,” she said and plowed ahead, figuring she’d have to find out the truth eventually. “Do you want something to eat?”

Staci dropped the bottle of Mountain Mist water in front of him, backed up and guzzled her beer, not stopping until a good portion was gone. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. It didn’t stop her belch. “Oh—sorry.”

“What do you eat?” Gwen asked him.

Staci pressed her beer bottle to her forehead.

“Meat,” he answered.

Gwen wasn’t about to ask what kind or from what species. “We have hamburgers and steak—that’s meat from animals on this side. Do you want it cooked? Raw?”

Groaning, Staci sank to her chair.

Gwen shot her a frown and focused again on Kuma. “Have you ever had cooked meat? Do you cook meat on E4?”

“At times,” he said, “when my pack is well hidden from the guards.”

“What about here, on this realm?” Staci asked.

He shook his head. “It’s not necessary. Every night there are containers of cooked meat behind some of the buildings.”

She made a face. “You go through the trash for your food?”

Gwen figured that was far better than him eating the guards he’d slaughtered. “It’s not like he has money to buy it,” she said, opening the Mountain Mist.

Staci stopped running her tongue around the lip of her bottle. “Then how does he live? Where do you live?” she asked him.

He took the water from Gwen and finished half of it before answering. “In a building a short run from here.”

Gwen pictured her neighborhood, guessing he’d taken up residence in one of its many boarded-up houses. “Where did you get your clothes?”

She could see his jeans weren’t a perfect fit. However, they did look relatively new and surprisingly clean, except for a few dark stains on them and his jacket that might have been mud or blood. As Staci had earlier, Gwen took a healthy gulp of her beer. She scrunched her nose at the bubbles stinging it.

Kuma ran his hand down his jeans, his expression saying he didn’t much like them. “I took them from a man in another building, similar to the one where I stay. He wasn’t dead,” he added quickly. “He fell asleep after putting something in his arm.”

Heroin? Most likely. Given the quality of Kuma’s garments, Gwen figured the junkie was a rich kid from Bainbridge Island or one of Seattle’s tony suburbs, come to the inner city for his drugs. She wondered about Kuma surviving on the street. Did he wash in public restrooms as so many of the city’s homeless did? Or did he wait until night and bathe in Puget Sound and other bodies of water when no one was around to watch?

How strange this dimension must seem to him, how terrifying when he’d first crossed over. Not that E4’s jungle sounded any better. Kuma indicated that he’d taken…or eaten…the guard’s hands and feet so the man wasn’t a threat any longer.

Not wanting to dwell on the picture that created, Gwen recalled him saying he hadn’t tried to return to E4, that it was easier to hunt his enemies here. “Earlier, you stated the guards would pay for what they did. What was that?”

He tightened his fingers around his bottle.

Afraid he’d crush the plastic, Gwen pried the drink from him and hazarded a guess. “They hurt one of your family…a member of your pack?”

“Zule. My mate.”

“Like your wife?” Staci asked.

What else? He’d said her name with such reverence, it troubled Gwen more than she would have liked. She didn’t know him. Hell, he wasn’t even fully human. Somehow, that truth didn’t stop her from envying Zule for still having his adoration.

“You have no reason to fear her,” Kuma said.

Gwen’s cheeks prickled with heat. She wanted to avert her gaze but didn’t. Within the pain in his eyes, she saw longing too.

The same as when he’d been above her in bed, their lips so close, breath mingling, giving her a sense of safety and comfort she’d rarely experienced, along with a burning need to have him inside of her, taking what he willed, while offering—

“What happened to Zule?” Staci asked.

Gwen kicked her cousin beneath the table.

Staci bared her teeth.

“It’s none of our business,” Gwen said to him. “You don’t have to tell us.”

“I want to.” He laced his fingers together and squeezed them. His body trembled with what appeared to be rage. “When the guards are in the jungle, they generally stay within sight of the Palace so they can run back and hide there if need be. Everyone in my pack knew to keep their distance from that place. They’d heard tales of females who’d ventured too near. What was left of them after the guards or rulers engaged in their assaults. I never believed the guards would come so deep into our territory to attack. They’re the worst sort of cowards. I allowed myself to become complacent. For that, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Gwen reached out to touch him, to offer whatever comfort she could. He didn’t seem to notice. She brought back her hand.

“On the day Zule died,” he said, “her mother was ill. Zule was tending to her while the others in our pack hunted for food. Without our protection, the guards risked coming near and struck.”

Kuma’s knuckles blanched from the pressure he exerted. “Her mother told us four of the guards surrounded her daughter. They used a calming dart to subdue Zule, then ropes to tie her wrists to her ankles. They laughed, telling her to run if she could. She couldn’t move. The tranquilizer stopped her from turning into a wolf. Her mother was too weak to transform and protect her. She knew her daughter was going to die.”

Oh God. “You don’t have to say anymore,” Gwen cut in. “It’s okay, really.”

“I want you to know,” he insisted, his chest rising and falling with his harsh breaths. “You need to understand why I have to kill them.” His gaze turned inward, as though he were picturing his mate’s death in his mind. “One after the other mounted Zule, taking her as they did the pleasure slaves. When they were through, they debated how they would kill her. One wanted to toss her into a pool of water to see how long it would be before she drowned. Another suggested nailing her to a tree so the predators could feed on her while she was still breathing. At last they decided to simply slit her from throat to belly, leaving her corpse for the subhumans and other creatures to consume.”

Gwen shuddered.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Staci said.

“No, you’re not,” Gwen warned her, then spoke to Kuma. “I’m so sorry.”