A faint, low groan travels up from the basement, the sound of chains rattling softly making the decision for me. Taking the devil’s hand, I let him lead me into the depths of his underground fortress, my grip on the flashlight so tight it threatens to crack the plastic.
Chains mean it can’t be Kodiak. He’d just free himself and use them to strangle the idiot that tried to use metal to restrain him, and Malcolm knows that. So Raiden or Stone, but what would keep either of them from shifting and breaking free?
Bile rises in the back of my throat.The darts Evren developed. If Malcolm was able to get his hands on one of them, we’re fucked.
Yet, I can’t deny the relief swelling in my chest at not being trapped here alone anymore. If I can distract Malcolm long enough for the effects of the drug to wear off, this time tomorrow, we’ll be free.
Hope’s a dangerous thing, and it leaves a deep, jagged scar behind when it’s gone.
“Who’s this?” I angle the beam of my flashlight across the man dangling from the chain bolted into the ceiling. Lanky brown hair and a generic face, he’s the kind of guy you could pass on the street thousands of times and still never remember. A cramp lances through my stomach the longer I stare at him, a nagging sensation in the back of my mind putting me on edge, but I can’t quite place why he feels familiar.
“After the way he hurt you, I’m not surprised most of that night is a blur.” He shakes his head, releasing my hand and stalking closer to my fellow prisoner. Malcolm’s face contorts with disgust as he grabs the guy’s jaw, tilting his chin up to give me a better view. “This is the bastard that put you in the hospital.”
The blood drains out of my face as I replay that night in the gas station. It was only a few months ago, but so much has changed, it feels like another lifetime.
“Oh.” Malcolm steps aside as I tentatively approach the guy, giving me space as I wade through my tumultuous emotions. “Okay,” I whisper, coming to terms with the ache my shattered hopes left behind. Tilting my head, I frown in confusion. “Why go through all of the effort to bring him here, though, instead of just killing him?”
“We don’t match anymore.” I startle as he steps right up against my back, settling a hand over my stomach. “And it’shisfault.” Stroking his thumb under the hem of my tank top, it brushes against my belly button ring and I stiffen. Looking over my shoulder, he bunches it up to expose all of the scarred skin, and shock him out of reflex.
With a deeply amused chuckle, he uses one finger to trace the line where I was gutted, not even fazed. “Dragons; so defensive of their treasure.” Toying with the gem infused with Stone’s blood, he hums contentedly. “You’re beautiful even without jewelry, but I must confess, I love it. It suits you.”
The human groans again, regaining consciousness, and Malcolm immediately fixes my pitiful excuse of a shirt. Voice cold once more, he announces, “I didn’t kill him becauseyou’rethe one that’s owed blood.”
I can’t really argue that point, but everything about this situation feels like a trap.
“... Thank you?”
Hands steady on my back, Malcolm urges me forward, and I awkwardly stand in front of the guy that changed the entire course of my life. Without him trying to gut me like a fish, I never would have met Stone.
Doesn’t mean I can’t hate the jackass that tried to kill me over a couple hundred bucks and a few cartons of cigarettes though.
“What the fuck is goi-” his angry rant is cut off as I slam my knee into his balls. All of the air rushes out of his lungs, face turning red as he swings from the ceiling, trying and failing to curl in on himself.
Malcolm smirks. “You just confirmed my theory. I think you’ve never been able to shift because you don’t consider yourself a dragon.” Walking over to a bench against the wall, he returns with a wickedly sharp knife. “You were hidden away, taught to ignore your instincts so you wouldn’t draw attention to yourself.” Placing the knife in my hand, he plasters himself against my back, forcing me to grip the handle as he curls his fingers over mine.
The human waste of space fights against his chains. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but-” His tirade is cut off with a grunt as Malcolm punches forward, still holding my fist in a death grip.
“How can you shift if you don’t embrace the monster lurking beneath your skin?” With a firm yank, he jerks my arm back, not letting me drop the bloody knife. “That’s what sets us apart from the rest, Amara. All shifters are born with bloodlust; it’s in our nature. But dragons?”
Tightening his fist, he uses me to stab the struggling human again and again, ignoring the way he screams and begs for mercy. Droplets of blood spray across my body with the next outward yank of the knife, warm on my face and sending my already racing heart into a sprint. I lock my muscles, but he just forces my hand forward again, tears building to burn the back of my eyes. Soon, I’m covered in enough blood that it plasters my damp clothes to my body, staining more of my skin with every swipe of the blade. Malcolm’s grip is bruising on my knuckles as he plunges the blade deep in the man’s stomach, slowly dragging it upward to gut him; an eye for an eye, but unlike me, he won’t be walking away from this.
Tears streak down my face that I don’t even bother trying to hide. Not because I feel guilty; this guy nearly killed me and left me for dead. But how wildly out of control everything’s become, how Malcolm’s ripped away yet another piece of my freedom by using me like this. In his quest to help me get revenge I didn’t even want, he’s proven the only reason I’m still alive is because he’s allowed it.
Finally releasing his hold, Malcolm skims his fingertips up my wrist, my arm; leaving a trail of bloody lines in his wake that will haunt me for years to come. “Dragons are the creatures that even other monsters fear.”
ChapterFive
KODIAK
Abolt of agony spikes in my gut, and I pause in my downward swing, the metal staff in my hand stopping a hairsbreadth from the man’s temple. When the death blow doesn’t come, the pathetic excuse of a man pries one eyelid open, staring up at me from his place in the dirt, battered and broken beyond recognition.
“You-” he starts, but I shush him.
“Shut the fuck up.” Pressing the end of my bo staff to the hollow of his throat, I tilt my head to the side, tuning out the sounds of fighting around me for a moment.
I’m more attuned to the specific taste of Amara’s emotions than the others, but admittedly, this wouldn’t be the first time I picked up on something that wasn’t there simply because I’m desperately searching for any sign of her. It’s a shitty fucking feeling, though. Iwantit to be her so I can have that connection as much as I need it tonotbe her.
If it is her, what sort of horrors is she enduring?The remaining air in my lungs turns to ice.He waited a decade to have Amara back under his thumb, will want to stake his claim on her.
