The Wolf Prince (25 page)

“Darcy!”

A few moments later a door whooshed open and a man stepped inside. He was short and fat, with a large nose. “I see our captive is awake,” the man said.

“Where’s Darcy?”

“Dead, by now. I had her killed,” he said as if she had been nothing.

Everything around Surlock stopped moving. His knuckles
turned white as he gripped the bars. The weakness he’d felt threatened to topple him. Darcy was dead? He closed his eyes tight against the pain that ripped through him. By the gods, not Darcy.

Surlock glared at the man and saw pleasure flit across his face.

“You lie!” Surlock said.

“Lie? No, I haven’t lied.” He shook his head. “Why do you look so shocked? She was an impure. I’m a rogue. Second in command,” he puffed out his chest. “I’m Nivla, and rogues kill impures.” He brushed at his coat sleeve.

“No, she can’t be dead.”

“Please tell me that you didn’t care for her,” he sneered. “But of course you did. Your brothers have mated with impures. They might as well have wallowed in sewage. Symtarian blood should never mix with other races.”

Surlock reached through the bars of the cage, growling. Nivla stepped back, fear on his face. Then he relaxed and smiled.

If Surlock could’ve gotten a few inches closer, he would have strangled the life out of this man. He was a lunatic with his talk of impures. What was that supposed to mean?

“Ah, yes, I see it in your eyes. You really don’t remember who you are.” He laughed. “This is quite amusing. I wish I could keep you around longer. What fun I would have.”

Surlock stretched his arm farther, but it was still not far enough to reach Nivla. He looked at the bars as if he would rip them out.

“The cage is quite strong. You can’t escape,” Nivla told him with a cocky smirk.

“Know this.” Surlock glared at the man. “I will kill you.” Some of the color left the man’s face. “If it takes the rest of my life, I will hunt you down and squeeze the very breath from your body. I’ll do it slowly so the pain lasts for a very long time.”

Nivla visibly swallowed. “You can’t kill me. I’m a pure Symtarian. It’s against the law to kill me. You would be put to
death.” As he talked, Nivla began to gather his confidence, his words becoming stronger.

Surlock wanted to smash the smirk off his face. “I don’t care,” he said. “My life
was
Darcy, but you’ve taken her from me. I would welcome death rather than live without her.”

The man opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, then abruptly turned. The wall opened when he waved his hand. He stepped over the threshold without another word. The door closed silently behind Nivla, leaving Surlock alone with his thoughts, his pain and building fear that the man hadn’t lied.

No! He shook his head. Darcy couldn’t be dead. He would feel it, and he didn’t.

When he closed his eyes, she was as alive as she had been at the party. He saw her smile, smelled the sweet scent of the perfume she liked to wear. He could feel the heat of her body as it pressed against his, the softness of her lips.

“By the gods, you can’t be dead.”

There was a roar throughout the craft that had others looking warily around as if the demons of the night had been let loose.

Surlock dropped to his knees, all his strength drained. How could he live without her? She was his heart, and now it had stopped beating. He loved her, and he hadn’t realized it until he no longer had her in his life.

His strength ebbed. It was as though his soul had left his body. He let the drug that still lingered consume him once again. At least in dreams, he could still be with his love. He closed his eyes. Darcy smiled, opening her arms. He walked toward her, and found peace.

“Wake up!”

Surlock forced his eyes open, blinking as the bright lights shone in his eyes. When memory came back, it brought deep searing pain that made him gasp.

He looked up and saw the face of the man who had so callously told Surlock that he’d had Darcy put to death. Surlock
slowly came to his feet, his eyes never leaving Nivla’s face. The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Are you ready to die?” Surlock casually asked, as though he’d only made a simple comment about the weather.

“You’re in a cage.” Nivla squared his shoulders. “You cannot hurt me.”

“But I won’t always be in a cage. Do you want to wait? It would be easier for you if I killed you now. You wouldn’t have to worry about it for the rest of your life. Not that I’ll let you live very long.”

Rather than answer, Nivla raised a gun. Surlock hadn’t seen it tucked close to the man’s side.

“Are
you
ready to die?” he countered, then fired.

The pellet hit Surlock square in the chest with a hard thud. He looked down, saw a drop of blood trickle down his chest. He staggered back, falling to his knees.

“It’s only a tranquilizer, and not as strong as the last one. Just something to keep you a little more docile during the exchange. You asked if I was ready to die. I’m not, and I plan to take every precaution to stay alive.” He laughed. “Don’t look so angry. Someday you’ll thank me for killing the impure.”

The room swirled, then darkness closed around Surlock again. He welcomed it. At least drugged, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel the pain. Nivla was actually doing him a favor. When he was free, there would be plenty of time to hunt Nivla down and kill him … very slowly.

But sleep didn’t come. Nor did Darcy’s image. Nivla was right, the drug only made everything around Surlock move in slow motion.

The craft he was on touched ground. The door swished open and men entered his room. Surlock watched through blurry eyes as the back of the craft opened. His cage was moved to a platform with rollers. He growled and reached for the bars, but his movements were slow and awkward. He heard laughter, and
knew Nivla was amused. Let him find humor in the situation. Surlock would have his revenge some day.

They wheeled him outside. It was dark, but different from the dark he knew. It was more of a deep gray-black and the air was heavy, muggy and smelled much like rotting flesh. Where was this place? He could feel death hovering around him. Maybe Nivla planned to kill him after all.

The humming in his ears grew louder.

“I don’t care,” he mumbled. There was no fight left inside him.

He heard another craft. It didn’t look like the ones he’d seen on the Internet, but it looked familiar. After it landed, another cage was rolled out, with a man inside, but this one stood tall. Surlock watched him, and saw the evil oozing from his pores.

“Nivla, it’s good to see you again.” The man in the cage spoke in a silky smooth voice.

“Zerod.” Nivla touched the back of his hand to his forehead and bowed slightly.

Zerod? The name sounded familiar.

“What have you done to our brother?” a strong male voice asked.

Familiar again. Surlock tried to push himself up, but his arms refused to cooperate. He finally gave up. He recognized the voice, though, and he knew this man would help him.

“Open my cage,” Zerod ordered.

“Enjoy your freedom while you can,” the other man said harshly. “We’ll have you back behind bars before you can harm anyone else.”

Zerod laughed. “You would have made a great rogue warrior, Rogar. Are you sure you won’t join my ranks?”

“No, but I will destroy you.”

“Give my best to your mate.”

Surlock had Nivla in his line of vision. The man was starting to sweat and the longer the other two men talked, the more nervous he looked.

“Great Leader, we should leave,” Nivla finally said.

“I agree. This planet stinks,” Zerod said. “Release me so I can be gone from it.”

Planet?

Visions flashed across Surlock’s mind. A castle high in the wilderness. Surrounded by forest. Quick flashes. His head pounded. The humming was deafening. He grabbed his head, moaning. He knew these men, but yet, he didn’t. He saw pictures, but nothing made sense, nothing connected.

“Unlock the cage!” Rogar said.

The door opened. Surlock struggled to his knees, grabbing the bars. Nivla was getting into his craft, but he turned at the last minute and smiled, his eyes full of all the cruelty that lived inside him. Surlock bared his teeth as the craft’s door closed.

“Surlock, are you all right?”

Hands lifted him. He turned, seeing the face from his earlier vision. Confusion filled him.

“Kristor, help me with him,” Rogar said.

“By the gods, I’ll kill them all,” the other man said, grabbing Surlock’s other arm as they half carried him toward their craft.

Surlock looked at him. The other man from his vision. These were his brothers. Yet he didn’t really know them.

“I don’t know who I am,” he said.

The two men exchanged looks.

“It’s okay, little brother. Our mother will help you remember.”

“Can she help me forget?” he asked.

Surlock didn’t think so. As they took him to their craft, his mind was a tumble of questions. But right now, he couldn’t summon the energy to ask any of them.

Once inside the craft, they put him on a bed. Another man began to examine him. He was elderly, and reminded Surlock of Dr. Wilson. A healer, he supposed. There were some things he remembered automatically.

“We were told he has no memory,” the one called Rogar said.

“I still think you should have let me go after them, especially now that Zerod is loose again.”

This was his brother Kristor speaking. He was bigger than Rogar and looked as if he could tackle a whole army of men without blinking twice.

“Do you know who you are?” the healer asked.

“I think I’m Prince Surlock. But I don’t know this person,” Surlock said.

Kristor fisted his hands. “Did Nivla do this to you? Did he cause your loss of memory?”

Surlock’s smile was slow. “No, Darcy did.”

The healer cleared his throat. “It may be a few days before he starts to make sense. It could be the drugs they gave him.”

Surlock shook his head. “No, Darcy hit me over the head because I scared her. I lost my memory. She was helping me find it, but they took us captive.” He swallowed hard, but his pain rose to the surface despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. “Then they killed her.”

He closed his eyes, letting the dregs of the tranquilizer, and his depression, lull him back to sleep. He didn’t know when the craft landed, didn’t see the worry on his mother’s face, the pain in his father’s eyes or the concern of his sisters. Nor did he know when they carried him inside the castle.

He didn’t care. He was content to stay lost in his dream world.

“I’m here, Surlock,” Darcy said.

He looked around, and then his gaze landed on her. By the gods, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’ve missed you,” he told her.

She laughed, the sound swirling around him like a tumble of beautiful colors. He took her in his arms and lifted her high, then let her body slide slowly, sensuously down his.

“I think you’re very bad, Surlock.”

“That would be Prince Surlock.”

“Oh, Prince Surlock, is it?”

“Yes, and I’m going to carry you off to my castle and keep you safe. I’ll not let any harm come to you.”

Her eyes were sad as she looked into his. “But how can you keep me safe. I’m dead, remember?”

He sat up with a start, his cry of pain echoing through the halls of the castle. “Darcy! Come back!” He reached out, but was surrounded by darkness.

And silence.

“H
e won’t awaken, Mother,” Karinthia said.

“He’s suffered a great loss.” Her mother’s soft blue eyes filled with tears.

Karinthia had never seen Jadar cry and it broke her heart that her mother would suffer so, almost as much as seeing Surlock in this condition. “What can we do?”

“We have to cast the circle of power and healing,” Jadar said.

“He’s so weak it could kill him.”

“If we don’t, he will die for sure.”

“And if he returns to us, what will he be like then? He’s lost his lifemate. I’ve seen Symtarians go crazy or die because they’ve lost the one they were meant to be with. Surlock won’t like being brought back.”

Jadar fisted her hands. “I’m his mother. I refuse to lose one of my children. We will prepare the circle and may the goddess of all things living grant me his life.”

“But—”

“No, we will cast the circle. It’s the only way to save him.”

Karinthia bowed before her Queen Mother, touching the back of her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Mother.” Her mother left the room to prepare.

Karinthia straightened and stared down at her brother’s sleeping form. Tears filled her eyes. She had always been closest to
Surlock. It broke her heart that he would have found his lifemate, only to lose her to a rogue. She clamped her lips to keep her anger inside.

Nivla was almost as evil as Zerod. If her father hadn’t created the law that no Symtarian could kill another Symtarian, Karinthia would have killed him long ago. He’d hurt too many of her people.

Fear weaved through her as she thought about the ramifications of what Nivla’s actions had produced this time. He might have already caused Surlock’s death. Losing your lifemate could be a slow, painful way to die. She gripped the footboard on his bed. Maybe she would risk the consequences of killing Nivla if Surlock crossed over.

No, she wouldn’t let Surlock die! The end of his life wouldn’t happen as long as she had breath left in her body! The goddess would save him. Karinthia had to believe that.

She walked around the bed. “As much as you would like to step to the other side, brother, I refuse to let you go. We will cast the circle and bring you back to us.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. Unnatural heat radiated from him, almost burning her lips.

This wasn’t good. They needed to cast the circle soon or he would be lost to them forever. She hurried from the room to ready herself.

Karinthia knew where her mother would be. She quickly changed into her blue robes and joined Jadar outside. Deep in the woods, six stones standing like sentinels surrounded a large stone slab. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting eerie shadows around them.