Page 31 of Bond of Passion

Chapter 10

Deja exited the Harrowgate and stepped into a wall of morning mist. Ireland was just as she’d remembered. A salty ocean breeze flowed over her skin, and memories flooded back.

Tavin had brought her here for a weekend once, and they’d spent the entire two days in bed or walking the coastline. She’d rarely gotten a chance to visit the human realm—it was all but forbidden for demons who couldn’t pass as human to leave Sheoul. But they’d risked it, and because his cottage was so isolated, she’d been able to enjoy the miracle humans took for granted.

Sun. Scenery. Peace.

Hair whipping around her shoulders in the breeze, she headed down the path toward the cottage. Sea birds flew overhead, their sharp cries joining the gentle sound of tall grasses swishing around her feet. She’d worn leather tennis shoes with her jeans and white blouse today, and she was glad for the waterproof material as droplets from the vegetation splattered with every step.

As she trudged down the hill and approached the cottage, the hedges formed a mini maze, obscuring it from prying eyes and nosy neighbors. She’d enjoyed walking around the yard all those years ago, knowing she wouldn’t be seen by humans and that she could quickly get into the house if needed.

If only—

A growl stopped her in her tracks a split second before a seven-foot-tall Viking wanna-be with twelve-inch horns sticking out of his hairy head stepped from behind a hedge and blocked her path.

“You here for the Dar’grut?”

What the hell was a Dar’grut?

The guy stood there, thick arms crossed over his broad, fur-covered chest like a stern teacher watching a known cheater take a test. It was unnerving but not scary.

Well, maybe a little scary. Mr. Horned Viking Demon could probably bury that wicked-looking axe at his hip in her skull before she could blink.

Having no idea what the right answer was and not wanting to die for the wrong answer, she drew on everything she’d ever learned as a Neethul princess.

Lifting her chin and looking him directly in his beady black eyes, she said snootily, “What do you think?”

“Fuck.” Dejected, he dropped his arms and let them hang loosely at his sides. “I thought I was going to get to kill him.” He stopped pouting long enough to sigh. “Your face is dumb. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“My face is…dumb? What? You mean, confused?”

He seemed to consider that. “Confused,” he mused. Then he nodded. “Yes. Your face is confused. We’re all here to reckon with the male who murdered us, and the last one to arrive gets to kill him. It was going to be me until you showed up.”

Deja’s heart came to a full, painful stop. Holy shit. People were here to take revenge on Tavin. They were just like her.

She swallowed. Hard. “Where…where is Tavin right now?”

The dude grunted. “He is feeling Dural’s wrath. But his fifteen minutes should be over any moment.”

“So you’re saying that everyone who showed up gets fifteen minutes to torture him, and then I get to end his miserable life?”

He gestured toward the Harrowgate, and she caught a whiff of his rotting-meat stench. “Unless someone else comes through within the hour. I should have blocked the gate.” He focused on her again, his shaggy unibrow cranking down so low it nearly hid his eyes. “Go to the house. You might be able to watch a few minutes of Tavin screaming before it’s my turn. Dural opted out of private time.”

“Private time?”

He nodded. “Ten of your allotted fifteen minutes has to be done with any spectators who want to watch. Five minutes can be taken to do whatever you want with Tavin privately.”

Her gut churned. This was so…sick. She wanted revenge, and surely Tavin deserved what he was getting, but still. “How many of you are there?”

“There were three dozen at first, but most are gone. Left after their time was up. Only a few have remained to watch him die.”

Three dozen? “How is he even still alive if over thirty people have tortured him?”

“He gets healed after every session, so each of us can start with clean flesh and healthy organs.” Unibrow Viking sneered. “You can’t disembowel someone who is already disemboweled. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” she muttered. Holy hell. All this time, she’d been dreaming of revenge—and the bloodier, the better. But the idea that others were hurting Tavin, no matter how much he deserved it, made her queasy.

If anyone was going to torture him, it should be her.

“Just follow the path.” He smiled, his big mouth splitting his angular face in half. “And the sound of screaming.”

She took off at a near sprint until she realized what she was doing. She was going to watch demons do horrible things to the male she’d loved.

She slowed to almost a shuffle. She’d loved him so much.

Her fingers clenched on the medical duffel packed with a blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, and a few other medical tools, along with the injection she was supposed to give him—things to keep him alive.

You loved him.

Yes, she had.

But that was in the past. She had loved him. Now, she hated him.

And she was going to enjoy every second of what was to come.

She was.

Why then was it proving so hard to convince herself of that?