Tamed

Chapter Thirteen

Caleb shook blood out of his hair and stuck his pinkie in his ear to get the rest of it. They’d clocked him a good one, and by the sluggish movement of his blood, they’d drugged him, too. He’d been unconscious long enough to be taken from the helicopter and dropped into a cement cell. Fresh cement with shiny, new silver bars.

Wherever they were, it was a temporary setup. The Kurjans had been smart to grab Lily and lie low before moving her again.

But not as smart as he. He grinned through bloodied lips, the room swaying. This was why a guy always planned for war and never expected peace.

An outside door opened, and Franco strode inside, dragging Lily.

She gasped and rushed to grab the bars. “Are you all right?”

He frowned at the bustier that revealed way too much, his thoughts still murky. “What are you wearing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Really? That’s what you want to focus on?”

No. His gaze narrowed on Prophet Guiles as he stumbled in behind Lily. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“A prophet can’t kill a prophet,” Guiles said, glancing around, looking like a rat caught in a trap.

“Says who?” Caleb said softly, flashing his fangs when Guiles swallowed uneasily.

Franco cleared his throat. “You’re being traded to the demons, so I don’t think you’ll have time for murder and mayhem.”

Caleb stepped closer to the bars, his brain beginning to clear. “There’s always time for mayhem.” He’d pissed the demons off eons ago by supporting a family member who’d fled from an arranged meeting with a demonness, and the demons had wanted his head ever since. “What do you get from the demons in exchange?”

Franco slid a hand over Lily’s bare shoulder. “That’s between me and the demons.”

Fury propelled the blood between Caleb’s ears into a roar. Yet he kept his face bland. “I don’t think the exchange will happen.”

“We took out your trackers.” Franco’s fingers left red marks on Lily’s skin as he released her.

An explosion rocked the building, and plaster fell from the ceiling. “I think you missed one,” Caleb said calmly, reaching through the bars and grabbing the Kurjan by the throat. Yanking back, he smashed Franco’s face into the bars.

Kurjan blood sprayed, burning Caleb’s neck.

Franco pushed back, but Lily was faster. Twirling, she grabbed his gun and fired several times into his chest. The Kurjan went down.

She gasped and pointed the gun at Guiles, her face white with shock, her chest heaving above the bustier. Her light hair swished around her face, and those amazing eyes darkened with intent.

Good Lord, she was magnificent. Caleb’s heart swelled even as adrenaline flooded his system. Gunfire and explosives echoed all around them.

She kept her aim steady and glanced at Caleb. “Where are the keys?”

“No keys.” He nodded toward a keypad in the far corner. “Only Franco knows the code.”

Her brow furrowed. Then, with a slight shrug, she turned and fired several times into the keypad. Smoke cascaded from the destroyed wiring.

The bars slid open.

Her startled eyes met his. “I can’t believe that worked.”

Neither could he. Just as he slipped through the bars, Franco reared up and grabbed Lily in a headlock, his knife to her throat.

“If I kill a prophet, will Fate allow me to take her place?” the Kurjan growled, blood pouring from a wound in his neck to slide over Lily’s shoulder and chest. She grimaced in pain from the burn.

“No.” Caleb blinked to clear his vision and angled to the side. Fear for his woman threatened to swamp him, so he shoved all emotion down. “Let’s fight this out without hiding behind a woman.”

Franco growled, the knife pressing in hard enough to draw blood. Several precious drops fell from Lily’s delicate neck, scenting the air with strawberries. Franco inhaled sharply, his eyes morphing to red.

The beast inside Caleb roared to the surface at his woman’s scent.

Another explosion blasted the outside door in, and Caleb had to duck to keep from being decapitated. The door hit Lily in the shoulder, sending her and the Kurjan flying into the far wall. She screamed. A cement block hit Guiles, smashing him to the ground.

“Lily!” Caleb yelled, scrambling past debris to reach her. Had Franco kept control of the knife?

Caleb ripped the door and part of a wall off of them and grabbed Franco’s wrist, shoving the knife away from Lily. Her eyes were wide and her neck bleeding, but she was alive. With his other hand, he lifted her and pushed her behind him.

Franco reared up, catapulting them across the room to smash into the damaged keyboard. Electricity zapped down Caleb’s spine even as he reached back and punched Franco in his broken nose.

The king and Jase barreled into the room. Dage grabbed Lily, while Jase hauled an unconscious Guiles over his shoulder.

“You have three minutes until this place is blown to hell,” Dage said grimly, turning and shoving his way through exposed rebar and Sheetrock, while protecting Lily’s head.

She tried to protest, to reach back for Caleb, but the king simply picked her up and kept going.

Franco stood, stretching his neck. “You die today, Prophet.”

Caleb kicked out, striking Franco in the neck. “I’m a new kind of prophet.” He’d choose his own path, no matter what Fate decreed. “This is who I am.” Ducking his head, he plowed into Franco, sending them crashing into cinder blocks. Powder and crumbled concrete fell all around them.

Quick as a snake, Caleb reached into Franco’s boot and drew out a blade. “Nice knife.”

Franco circled back, his eyes cutting to the knife he’d dropped. The one still glistening red with Lily’s blood.

“Pick it up,” Caleb said.

Franco kept his gaze on Caleb even as he bent and retrieved the knife. “You just made a mistake, rebel.”

“Did I?” The drugs finally cleared his system, and he let his arms drop. “Prove it.”

Franco drove forward, knife out, death in his eyes.

Caleb pivoted and dropped to one knee, lunging up with the knife. The blade caught Franco under the chin and kept going. They fell back into the cell, Caleb on top. Fierce twists of his shoulders had the knife cutting through cartilage and bone. The Kurjan leader’s head rolled away.

Fate had marked Caleb as a prophet, and he’d learn to make that work, but at heart, he would always be a street fighter.

He stood, wiping blood off the blade. Another explosion rocked the room. Too close. Shit. He had to run. Ducking his head, he dove through exposed rebar and through stairwells, finally jumping into the sun just as the building exploded behind him.