Provoked

CHAPTER 25

Jase crouched next to the cell door, the knife heavy in his hand. He kept his grip loose so his palm wouldn’t cramp. The idea of his hand cramping from holding one small knife would’ve made him laugh four years ago.

When he laughed.

Closing his eyes, he dug deep for a hint of his power. Spiraling out from his core, he tried to freeze the air around him.

The oxygen didn’t even sputter.

For centuries he’d taken for granted his ability to mess with the elements, often sending a steamy slap to burn one of his brothers. Now he missed the gift with a sharpness that made his gut ache. The ability was probably lost forever.

The weird faces in the rock nodded solemnly.

“Who are you?” Jase whispered.

As usual, the bastards refused to answer.

Whistling sounded from beyond the door, slowly becoming louder.

He stiffened in preparation. Seconds passed. Then more. Finally, keys jangled against the steel door.

The door swung open.

Shooting forward, he jabbed the knife into a guard. Blood spread over his fingers. Eons ago he’d learned to fight with cold, hard logic. Now a grunting desperation filled him, elation at striking out clamoring through his veins for more. More blood. More pain. More death.

An animalistic need to survive, to destroy, ripped panting noises from his gut.

The demon inhaled in pain, struggling to retreat. He roared in anger, grabbing the knife handle and trying to twist the weapon away from Jase.

Suri stepped to the side.

Barbs of mental pain slashed into Jase’s brain. Screeching followed the pain—some sort of high-pitched animal lived in his skull now. He dropped the knife, both hands clapping his ears. The agony pierced his eyeballs from within.

The crack of a metal pole against his rib cage registered in sound but not sensation, so great was the devastation going on in his head. His skull pounded.

Blood cooled his ear canal and slid down his neck.

The crack of the pole sent him flying into the wall. He chuckled, eyes closed, knowing the wall faces hadn’t caught him. “Jerks.”

Air swished and a fist impacted his temple.

He dropped to the ground, darkness just beyond reach.

Time passed.

More attacks came. Some physical, some mental, but he floated beyond them, feeling nothing. He wandered in the haze between reality and dreams, not unconscious, but not really there.

More time went by. Minutes, hours, maybe days.

Coldness coated his skin, but not enough to wake him completely.

His vision remained black. Odd, but a sadness lingered somewhere inside his gut that he couldn’t see the wall faces. Did they miss him, too?

Hard hands grabbed his armpits. His feet dragged on the ground. More haze fell.

Something soft cushioned him.

Warm, healing liquid slid down his throat. Blood. Female and strong. A very healthy human.

More time passed where he tried to ignore reality.

Finally, his eyes opened.

Willa leaned over him, her scent of spiced oranges wafting along his skin. The pale mounds of her perfect breasts spilled over the top of her chemise. Against his will, his body flared to life.

She frowned, wiping off his head with a silk scarf. “I thought they’d damaged your brain.”

What brain? He took several deep breaths, glancing slowly around. Wearing just a clean pair of black silk boxers, he lay on his back, stretched out on a velvet bedspread softer than any dream. “You finally got me into bed,” he croaked.

She laughed, the sound full of mirth. “Yes. All it took was my brother beating you into a coma with a steel pole.”

Jase shoved up on his elbows. His body was one continuous purple bruise, but the open gashes had closed from whatever blood he’d taken. An internal inventory revealed mangled organs, ripped blood vessels, and torn muscles.

The blood he’d taken would slowly help him mend.

For now, he needed to get out of hell. Without question, this was his last chance.

The bedroom remained the same as last time he’d visited, except for a new Brenna Dunne oil painting on the far wall. Splashes of red and deep blue colored the view of a rumpled bed—a bed lovers had just vacated. “Interesting piece.” He’d had no idea Brenna harbored such sexuality, but he knew her work well. The painting was definitely Brenna’s.

“Yes. I bought the work off a gallery owner in Dublin.” Willa tossed the bloody silk onto the floor.

“Hmm.” Jase forced himself into a seated position, biting back a wince as his head all but blew off his shoulders at the pain. The thought of sweet Brenna’s sexy painting in a demon hellhole bothered him a lot more than it should. “You probably stole it.”

Willa lifted a shoulder. “Same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room spun, and his stomach lurched. Several deep breaths later, and he could finally focus. “How did I get here?”

“I have some loyal followers.” The demon sniffed. She eyed his body with interest, her small nostrils flaring.

“And the silk boxers?”

“Consider them a gift.”

Jase flattened his feet on the thick carpet. Standing was going to be difficult. So he focused on the painting, trying to imagine pretty, soft Brenna Dunne in his head. The woman was proof that goodness and purity still existed. Cutting his gaze away from the painting, he wavered to his feet and studied the demon. “Suri will kill you if he finds out you just rescued me.”

“I know. That’s why you need to lie back down and let this happen.” Willa tugged off the chemise and revealed high breasts with light pink nipples.

“You’re beautiful.” He spoke without thinking, his fangs elongating. She truly was stunning. He’d bet almost anything in the world that her pretty nipples tasted like raspberries in the thick of summer. Man, he was hungry.

“Thank you.” Her nimble fingers went to the ties of her skirt, and the heavy silk swished to the floor.

Nothing could’ve prevented the low growl that emerged from his chest. For a small woman, the demon had long legs and toned thighs. And she was completely bare.

He shook his head. “This is a bad idea.”

Her hands pressed against his chest. “This is the only chance we have.”

“No.” His body protested what his gut told him to say.

“Yes,” Willa whispered. She leaned up, her lips sliding against his.

Warmth flushed through him. He dove into the kiss. With a gasp, his mouth moved over hers in a kiss filled with question. He took her deeper, for once seeking pleasure instead of finding pain.

But a clamoring in his brain made him lift his head.

His instincts were all he had.

For the oddest of reasons, the painting by Brenna Dunne seemed to ground him. He couldn’t have sex with a demon in front of Brenna’s painting. He swallowed, trying to shove need out of his body. “We can’t. But I promise you, I’ll get you out of here. I’ll get you safe.”

Willa hissed, her nails digging into his bare chest. “We’re as good as dead if you don’t do this.”

“We’re definitely dead if I mate you.” Jase shook his head. The woman had helped him on several occasions, and he wouldn’t sign her death warrant just because she had a tempting body. A very tempting body. Though, the idea of embarrassing Suri, of using his sister to harm him, held merit.

He’d become a true bastard. Shaking his head, he shoved the evil thought away. Getting Willa out of Suri’s reach and to safety would hurt the demon just fine. “Trust me, Willa. I’ll get you to safety.”

“You don’t want me.” Hurt turned her eyes nearly purple.

“Of course I want you.” He grabbed her wrists to tug away from his chest. How in the hell was he going to get them both out of the stronghold? His powers were gone, and his head very well might blow up. “Sex right now between us is not the answer. We need to survive this, not mate.”

“Sex is always the answer,” she purred. Tugging her hands free, she leaned in and kissed the purple bruises dotting his chest. Her other hand went to the outside of his boxers to cup him, her fingers stroking through the fabric.

He bit back a groan. His dick arched into her hand even while he gently pushed her away by the shoulders. For years the only touch he’d felt came from hard strikes with poles and bats. The idea of sex nearly made him forget the very real danger they were in the longer they stayed in the bedroom. Plus, the sexy painting seemed to condemn him. “You need to stop,” he groaned.

“Your body disagrees with you.” She tightened her grip and stroked harder.

“I said no.” He yanked her hand away and sidled several steps away. The room spun, and his lungs whistled as if holes dotted them. Concentrating, he sent healing cells to deal with the tissue. “Trust me, we need to leave now.”

Her eyes flashed from black to yellow. A dark flush slid over her face. Slamming both hands on her hips, she stomped her foot. “You asshole.”

So true. He had no doubt even if he survived this, he’d be an asshole. True caring of anybody or anything wasn’t going to happen again. They’d killed him as efficiently as if they’d cut off his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” Nodding, she slammed horrific images into his head. Images of kids being shot, of his family being beheaded.

He remained on his feet while his heart seized. The woman was nuts. “Knock it off. A temper tantrum isn’t going to help.”

The images retreated. She exhaled. “You’ll pay for this.” The bed protested when she kicked the box spring several times. “I promised. I promised Suri I’d get your powers. And now you’ve ruined everything.”

Jase stilled. Reality slammed him hard. “Suri? He knew about your plan of seduction?”

Her lips twisted. “Of course. Did you really think I wanted to mate you for protection? I wanted your powers, you stupid vampire—as well as a way to get to the king of the Realm. Now we’ll just have to break you and make you help us. But you could’ve had me.”

“Well.” Jase forced a condescending smile, his mind reeling in slow motion. “You failed, now, didn’t you?”

Her chin lifted slowly, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “We both did.” Turning toward the door, she yelled for the guards.

Two guards rushed in, both grabbing his arms.

Willa settled her face, no longer looking even remotely attractive. A dark red covered her cheeks, while her eyes blazed a horrifying yellow. “Take him back to his cell. Make sure he enjoys the view on the way.”

Laughing, the guards dragged him out of the sensual bedroom. They trod through several tunnels, twisting and turning as they maneuvered deeper into the earth. Deeper into hell.

His mind reeled. He’d almost had sex with a demon, almost mated her. Who knows if he would’ve ended up trying. But her attempt at seduction was just another demon mind fuck. Was he ever going to get out of hell?

The guards slowed their pace. The scent of blood overtook the oxygen. His fangs elongated naturally. An opened doorway stood to the left, and Jase glanced in as the guards paused.

A blonde, pretty even in death, hung upside-down from the ceiling, blood coating her hair as it dripped into a bucket on the floor. Her blue eyes were wide in horror, her throat slashed end to end.

Seconds passed as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Past the blonde, several female bodies hung dead from the ceiling. All had bled out. All had terror on their pretty faces. There had to be five dead women.

The scents of the different blood was familiar.

He gagged. Something snapped in his head. Or maybe it was in his soul. Either way, something he’d managed to hold on to during his captivity ripped apart.

The tallest guard laughed. “Guess your meals weren’t free, now, were they?”

Oh God. He had enjoyed the blood of each one of the victims. They’d died to keep him alive. They’d died as part of a sick game invented by Willa and Suri.

The guards hustled Jase to his cell, where they tossed him in.

The drip-drip of the water down the wall sounded like a voice whispering “mur-der.” They’d killed the young women to give him blood. Willa had lied. Mur-der. Murder. Mur-der.

Bile rose in his throat.

Shuffling to the corner, he heaved the contents of his stomach. Blood, tons of red mush, coated the wall and floor. The fresh blood from the blonde.

Gasping, he turned.

A face in the wall frowned, condemning him. Pieces of rock dropped out of the wall mouth. Sharp pieces. Sharp enough to pierce his jugular so he bled out.

Mur-der. Mur-der. Mur-der

After all the blood he’d stolen, he didn’t want any. The horrendous liquid had to be taken from his body. Bleeding out was the only solution.

This would finally end.

Slowly, Jase crawled toward the pieces of guaranteed death.