Page 33 of Bond of Passion

Chapter 12

Deja was having serious second thoughts as she stood outside Tavin’s front door, its cheery white paint defiled by bloody smears and handprints from demons coming and going. Afraid of what she would find inside, she’d been stalling for time for at least a couple of minutes. Maybe more. Felt like forever. She hadn’t heard any noises yet—at least she hadn’t heard anything from Tavin.

But there had been lots of laughter and cheers coming from inside.

The demon who’d said she had a dumb face glanced back at her from where he stood sentry at the edge of the hedges.

Shit. This doesn’t look suspicious at all.

She shot him a flirty smile and, not knowing what else to do and telling herself that Tavin deserved this, eased the door open and slipped inside.

Instantly, the acrid, metallic odors of blood, burned flesh, and pain overwhelmed her, and she realized why she hadn’t heard Tavin screaming.

It was because he was moaning.

She felt the low, resonant sound of agony in the pit of her stomach as she followed the amused voices and raucous laughter to a living room just off the pristine gray and green kitchen. The furniture had been pushed to the walls, and males representing several different underworld species stood around the room, some leaning against the walls, others sprawled in Tavin’s cushy chairs. One guy, an orange-skinned demon with three eyes and a lipless mouth full of needle-like teeth, lay stretched out on the couch in his loincloth like an underwear model.

And in the center of the room, bound to a chair, was Tavin. He was naked, every inch of his body slick with blood. A crimson pool had formed on the floor beneath him, tiny ripples forming with each drip of blood from his mouth, nose, or the streams winding down both bare legs.

“Ten seconds remaining,” called out a slender male crouched on top of the dining room table.

Dressed in mustard-colored skinny jeans, a long-sleeved, brick-red button-down, and trendy Italian leather shoes, he was the epitome of today’s out-and-proud-in-human-society vampires. They were done being in the dark. Figuratively, of course. Most vamps still got toasted in sunlight. He glanced at his gold watch and started the countdown in his French accent.

“Nine. Eight. Seven.”

The spike-headed male standing in front of Tavin with a bloody dagger in his fist gripped Tavin’s damp hair and yanked his head back to look him in the eye. She couldn’t tell if Tavin could see or if his eyes were even open. They were too swollen and discolored, and there was too much blood.

Deja was no longer the squeamish princess she’d been as a youth, but this took her back to that world like a punch to the gut. The helpless feeling of watching something horrible without being able to do anything about it was too much. She wanted to grab Tavin the way she had the Meerie and run.

At least the Meerie hadn’t tried to kill her.

“I could happily spend a week making you scream,” the spiked male snarled. “But I’ll settle for ending this with the same weapon you used to end me.”

“Four. Three. Two…”

The excitement in the air grew palpable, dancing on her skin as the demon spun in a blur, the silver blade flashing, the wet sound of ripping skin cutting through the vampire’s last words.

“One. Done!”

The dagger clattered to the floor amidst Tavin’s raspy scream. Then, in excruciatingly slow motion, a seam of crimson formed across his belly, growing wider and wider until his skin parted, and his organs slid into his lap.

Oh, gods.

Horror sapped her ability to think. To breathe. To do anything at all, as a black-winged, gray-haired male appeared from out of nowhere and slammed both palms onto Tavin’s head.

Deja’s stomach turned over as she began to comprehend what she was seeing. At what she was feeling—waves of malevolent energy that made her skin shrink.

The guy was a fallen angel, a being of exceptional power and evil. The top of every food chain. Deja had never seen one before. Had never wanted to.

She clenched her fists and forced herself not to back away as dark, inky columns of what looked like smoke puffed from beneath his palms, and streaks of blue spread through Tavin’s body like wildfire. He screamed again as the fallen angel scooped up his guts and shoved them back inside his body before the laceration healed. After a moment, Tavin groaned and, mercifully, lost consciousness, his head lolling to one side.

The fallen angel brushed his hands together, as if doing so would get rid of the blood staining them. “Give him five minutes, and then wake him. Who’s next?”

“Gorm,” someone called out.

“Let him know.” The fallen angel took a single step and winked out of the room.

Deja could breathe again. Relief sapped her strength, and she nearly toppled when a humanoid male spun around and bumped into her. He eyed her up and down long enough to make her skin crawl before grunting in acknowledgment.