The Darkest Surrender

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

STRIDER WAS READY TO COMMIT cold-blooded murder. He’d start with Sabin and Lysander, who tried to force him to remain in his seat. They might not realize it, but their actions challenged his demon and Strider face-planted them both. They released him, but rather than bolt for the basketball court, he stayed put. Barely.

He’d tried to leave once before this, determined to reach the Eagleshields on the other side. Then Kaia had been tagged into the ring. He’d found himself racing back to his seat.

If he allowed himself to act, he would slaughter his way through those women. Game over. No first prize awarded—and if he failed to find the Paring Rod himself, he would need Kaia to win. Also, Kaia would be humiliated by his interference. But just then, he didn’t really give a flying fuck about first prize or humiliation.

Was Kaia okay?

She’d gone limp, and an eternity seemed to pass as she was beaten. And beaten some more. Thankfully, the Harpies soon lost interest in her unconscious form and turned on each other. When Strider saw her, he nearly leapt from his seat again. Blood covered every inch of her face. Her clothes were ripped, and just as bloody. Her hands were swollen, her chest motionless.

Sabin straightened and dusted the dirty popcorn from his shoulders. “She’ll be okay,” he said. “Look at Bianka over there. She’s pissed, not frightened.”

Funny that the keeper of Doubt was trying to reassure him, but Strider obeyed. He looked. Bianka paced the top of the bleachers, and everyone around her had long since moved out of her way. She stomped so hard the wood was probably cracked underneath her.

He scrubbed a hand—a trembling hand!—down his face, his attention returning to Kaia, where it remained for yet another eternity. She needed to drink from him. He wanted her to drink from him. She just had to move, just had to finish this.

Come on, baby doll. You can do it.

Her team could still pull through and win. And even if they didn’t… No. He wouldn’t let himself contemplate that. What mattered, surprisingly, was Kaia. She’d been doing so well, fighting with a skill that had aroused him. Yeah. He’d watched her while sporting a hard-on. Then they’d gang-banged her.

What the hell had she done to warrant such hatred?

Next time they were alone, she would tell him. No more lies, either. No matter how sexy she was while she spun them.

Finally, movement. She twitched. Every muscle in his body tensed. No one noticed her as she blinked open her eyes. He knew the exact moment clarity struck her because her teeth flashed in a crimson snarl. But broken as she currently was, there was nothing she could do to hurt those who had hurt her. So she did the next best thing. She crawled to Taliyah.

“Come on, baby doll,” he muttered, his thoughts forming into words and grinding past the knot in his throat. “You can do it.”

Win. Defeat had been shouting for victory long before Kaia entered the match.

Yeah, she will. Gods, he’d never been prouder of another living being. Not even his friends, who had fought Hunters at his side, watching his back. Because when they’d gone down, they’d been out for the count. Not Kaia, though. She continued on.

Kaia’s hand inched up, her face contorting in a grimace. Someone screamed and scrambled toward her, intent on stopping her from tagging out, but at last her hand connected with her sister’s and the pale-haired Harpy jumped in with a fury.

Seconds later, screeches of pain erupted, a symphony of abuse. Bodies flew—and didn’t get up. Until a panting, blood-splattered Taliyah was the only one standing in the ring. She tagged in Gwen, who simply hobbled around kicking everyone who was down. Gwen tagged in Neeka, who did the same. Neeka retagged Gwen, who entered for a third time.

When Gwen finished, she tagged in Kaia, who managed to crawl a few more inches and kick one of the fallen in the stomach. The action, though, must have aggravated some of her more serious internal injuries because she lost consciousness for a bit.

“Come on, Kaia!” Strider shouted.

“You can do it,” Sabin screeched through that bullhorn, and damn if Strider didn’t wish he had one of his own.

The other Harpies began to rouse. The one Kaia had kicked came to with a jolt, jarring Kaia awake in the process.

“Damn it, Kaia! You’re the best. Show them!” Strider wanted to vomit as she was once again attacked. Somehow, someway, she finally managed to crawl her way to Taliyah and tag her in.

He thought they’d do it. Thought they’d win. But in the end, when Kaia went in a third time, she was pinned and beaten so badly she passed out for good, knocking her team out of the competition. Even worse, it was Team Skyhawk that claimed first and Team Eagleshield that claimed second.

SOMETHING WARM SLID DOWN Kaia’s throat. So delicious, she thought, swallowing weakly. More, she needed more, but she didn’t have the strength to swallow a second time. Until that warmth hit her stomach. It quickly moved through the rest of her, chasing away the cold heaviness of her limbs, energizing her.

She pried her eyelids apart. Strider loomed over her, she saw, his wrist poised over her mouth. Blood dripped onto her now closed lips and slid down her cheeks. He reached down with his free hand, about to force her mouth to part. When he realized she had awoken, he froze.

Her lips parted of their own volition, another mouthful of warmth sliding into her stomach and filling her up.

“That’s it,” he said, pressing his wrist into the opening she provided. “That’s a good girl.”

Her fangs extended, and she bit. She sucked and sucked and sucked, drinking in the healing powers of his blood. He tasted like rich, aged wine sprinkled with dark chocolate and honey. No one had ever tasted this good.

As she savored, she studied him. He sat beside her, his hip touching hers. Lines of tension branched from his eyes and mouth, and his skin was pallid. Unsure how much blood he could afford to lose, she forced herself to stop drinking from him.

He arched a brow. “That enough?”

No, but it would have to be. She nodded. The action heralded a wave of dizziness, and she grimaced. In and out she breathed, slow, measured. Finally, her mind calmed, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She recalled entering the ring, kicking ass—and then getting her ass kicked. After that…damn, damn, damn. She was lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. That meant…damn, damn, damn.

“Where are my sisters?” Wow. Speaking hurt. Someone must have punched the hell out of her trachea.

“Bianka went back to the heavens with Lysander because I was about to permanently hinder her ability to breathe. She hovers. And Gwen is somewhere with Sabin, drinking his blood, I’m sure, and healing.” Strider’s voice was cold, distant. “Taliyah and the others, I don’t know.”

“But all my girls were alive after the competition?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“And they weren’t on the verge of dying?”

“No.”

Relief speared her. All right. Okay. They were alive, healing. She could deal with anything else. Maybe. “Who—who won?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Your mother. You guys didn’t place.”

Because of me, she thought, her chest hollowing out. Because she’d passed out, which was almost as bad as a disqualification.

Her eyes burned, so she closed them. Damn it. She needed a moment alone, needed time to compose herself. Or sob. Strider had just seen her at her worst. She couldn’t break down now and further blacken his opinion of her.

More than that, she had to look hideous. In fact, she needed to cover every mirror in the vicinity with a mourning shroud before she saw herself and considered committing suicide. “Be a good consort and go fetch me a bottle of water so I can steal it from you. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink your tears, crybaby.”

Her eyelids popped open and she gaped at him. The urge to cry vanished completely. “How can you treat me like this! Where’s your compassion? I’m obviously dying.”

“Please. You’ve got a few paltry wounds.”

Paltry? Paltry! She glanced down at herself. Her clothes had been cut away, leaving her bare. Only she still looked dressed. Her skin was slashed and tattered in places, with black and blue bruises branching in every direction. “These are the worst wounds you’ve ever seen, you bastard, and you know it.”

His lips quirked at the corners. “Nah. I once had a paper cut between my index finger and thumb. You don’t know the meaning of pain until you’ve experienced something like that.”

He. Was. Amused. “You are five seconds away from a dagger through the heart.” Huffing and puffing, she pulled the covers up to her chin. Every movement caused a ripple of agony. Worth it, though. Being naked in front of Strider—no problem. Being naked and injured? Hell, no!

“Watch your tone, okay? My demon is acting up.” Even as he spoke, he gently tucked the soft material around her.

Some of her anger drained. “What do you mean, acting up?”

“He’s eager for a fight.”

“Why?” She knew she shouldn’t say anything else, knew Strider would be pissed, wouldn’t understand, but it was for his own good. “I doubt you can tell me in a way I’ll understand.”

The long length of his lashes fused together, anger suddenly pulsing from him. “He was cheering for you. He watched you lose. That upset him. He didn’t hurt me, but now he needs to win something. Got it?”

“Yes.” His demon had cheered for her? Really? Was that the voice she’d heard, as she’d first suspected? “Thank you.”

“This is not something to smile about.”

She was smiling? Oh, yeah. She was. She smoothed her features. “Fine. I’ll behave. Now, don’t you feel better?”

A moment passed before the tension she’d sensed in him drained. He’d won. A little skirmish, yes, but he’d still won, granting his demon some sort of victory and hopefully calming him.

“You did that on purpose,” he said, thoughtful.

“So?”

“So. You’re sweet.” Tenderly he swept the hair from her brow. “We’re going to talk. If you’re feeling up to it,” he added.

His body heat cocooned her more surely than the blanket. “Why wouldn’t I feel up to it? Paltry wounds, remember?” As her dry tone echoed, she began to understand something else about Strider. He’d shown her no sympathy earlier because he’d realized how close she teetered to the edge of a breakdown. Any softness would have sent her over, and she would have collapsed.

She would have resented him for that collapse, would have worried about the consequences. Now, she didn’t have to. She could simply enjoy him.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “Be honest.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“A naked rubdown.”

His pupils expanded, gobbling up his irises. “Besides that.”

“Besides this, besides that,” she mocked, forcing herself to glare at him. “Lookit, I can tell you’re sincerely slightly concerned about my physical well-being, but if you don’t get me some water like I already told you I needed, I will personally—”

“Clearly, you’re feeling up to a talk.” His lips twitched into a full-fledged smile this time.

There. Much better. He hadn’t wanted her to collapse, and she hadn’t wanted him to torture himself about her condition.

“Therefore…” He held up a glistening bottle and waved it in her face. A few droplets of condensation splashed onto her chest, and she gasped. “I can admit that I’ve got what you want, and exploit you.”

The sudden dryness of her mouth made her gums ache. She’d been lying before, about being thirsty, but now, seeing that bottle, she wanted. Had to have. Would die if she didn’t. “Give me.”

“Uh-uh-uh. You want this,” he said in a singsong voice, “you’ll have to earn it. So I’ll be asking you some questions, and you’ll be giving me the answers. And, just so you know, I also have a hamburger and a chocolate shake to pay you with.”

She licked her lips, hating him and loving him at the same time. This was exactly why she never spilled Harpy secrets. They could be used against her. But because of Gwen, Strider knew Kaia truly had to earn her food. If he asked a question, and she accepted payment for her answer, she couldn’t lie to him. Otherwise, she would sicken, just as she would if she ate something she’d prepared for herself.

Once again he waved the water bottle. “Deal?”

“Deal,” she gritted out, no longer having to fake the resurgence of anger. He would want to know about the next competition. She knew it. She—

“Tell me why the Harpies hate you so much.”

Was wrong. She sagged against the mattress and peered up at the ceiling. Water damage had darkened several panels. They were in another cheap motel, then. Were probably still in Wisconsin.

“I’m waiting, baby doll.”

“The answer’s not important.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

She sighed. “The man…Juliette’s man. The one you saw the day of orientation. When I was fourteen, I wanted him to be my slave, to do my laundry, that kind of thing, so I tried to steal him and prove my worth. My strength.” As she spoke, she began to tremble. If she told him the rest, the truth, he would leave her. Just like most of her clan had left her.

How could he not? He’d just watched her lose. To hear that she’d always been a failure, that she would probably never be more…

Did she really want the bottle of water that much?

“And?” he insisted.

Better to lose him now, she rationalized. He was only staying for the Rod, anyway, and if he left, she wouldn’t have to worry about the next competition. About losing in front of him again.

“Instead,” she finished, “I set him free and he almost killed me. He would have killed me if not for Bianka. She pulled him off me and he turned on her. Then, of course, he turned on everyone else. More Harpies were lost that day than any other day in our history. Even during the Great Turf Wars, when we battled other species.”

Strider frowned. “If he hurt so many, why isn’t he blamed for what happened? No one looked at him with hate in their eyes. No one went for his throat.”

That was his reaction? Why hadn’t he run? “Juliette had him contained. I unleashed him. Had I stayed away, he wouldn’t have had the chance to do anything.”

“All right, then answer me this. If he’s so dangerous, why has Juliette kept him around?”

“A Harpy will forgive her consort for almost anything,” she grumbled.

A moment of silence. “What is Juliette’s consort, anyway?” he asked, opting not to comment on her “forgive almost anything” revelation. Why? She’d just given him an eternal hall pass. “Not a human, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t know what he is. I’d never encountered anyone like him, and haven’t since.”

His lips pursed. “So you didn’t sleep with him?”

“I was fourteen. What do you think?” At his blank look, she scowled. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”

“Gods, you’re huffy. I know you didn’t sleep with him. I just wanted to hear you say so.” He traced a fingertip along her jaw, gentle, so gentle. “And thank you. For the truth this time.”

Do not melt. He hadn’t exactly declared himself. “Thank you? That’s all you have to say to me?”

“Yeah. What? Did you expect a limerick?”

No. She’d expected a lecture and a goodbye. “Because of what I did, they named me Kaia the Disappointment.” There. Now he knew everything. Now he knew the person he’d put his trust and faith in—well, sort of—might not be able to deliver.

“What is it with Harpies and name-calling?” he asked, again surprising her.

Every time someone called her KtD, she died a little inside, but Strider acted as if it were no big deal. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “I wouldn’t worry about us and our name-calling. We haven’t given you one yet.”

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, there one moment, gone the next. “Like I care what you call me.” His voice was flat, emotionless, offering no hint as to what she’d seen. He was such an asshole sometimes. Well, I’ll see your “don’t care” and raise you a “what do you think about this?” “Just so you know, we call Paris the Sexorcist.”

Strider’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a sharp breath. Silence gripped them for so long, she started to feel guilty. Then he said stiffly, “You’ve earned your first payment.” He twisted the cap off the water, slid a warm hand under her neck and lifted. Her lips met the cold cascade of liquid and she forgot all about the guilt.

She gulped like crazy, and gods, each drop tasted better than the last. When she finished, Strider crunched the plastic and tossed it over his shoulder. He eased her back down and released her. She pursed her lips to stop herself from begging for more contact.

He leaned toward the nightstand and claimed a section of the hamburger he’d already cut into fours. Her stomach churned, growled.

“Guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry,” he remarked with a grin.

Em-barr-ass-ing, but at least he’d lost that emotionless edge and was still determined to talk with her. A miracle of miracles. She wouldn’t complain again.

“If you want this, you’ll have to tell me if you honestly think you can win the next competition. Not to mention the next and the next. Because, after this last round, I like the thought of stealing the Rod more and more.”

There was a trace of remorse in his voice, and she knew bone-deep that he meant to steal the Paring Rod no matter what she said. If he could. What she didn’t know, however, was why he cared about her opinion concerning the next of the games right now.

He must have read the question in her eyes because he said gruffly, “I don’t want you hurt like this again.”

An ache bloomed in her chest. She would answer him. Not for the hamburger, but because of his concern. “I—” Shit. Honestly? She’d thought she would be able to win round one, that knowing the other teams would come after her would give her an advantage. Yet they had converged on her and she’d been helpless.

Next time, they would make another play for her, for every member of her team. There was just no way around it. And she couldn’t whine about fairness because, had the situation been reversed, she would have done the same thing to whoever had hurt her family.

Family. The single word echoed in her mind, and she remembered Taliyah’s doubt. All her life, she’d only ever wanted to be admired. Loved. Respected. All her life, she’d only ever let everyone down. She was Kaia the Disappointment.

“I’m sorry I lost,” she whispered.

His expression gentled, and his fingers found their way back to her brow, caressing. “You didn’t let me down. No one could have pulled a victory out of their hat with that kind of opposition.”

Comforting, but deep down she knew he would have found a way. He always did.

“You worried me, though,” he added, the gruffness returning. “I won’t lie about that.”

Spoken like a true consort, and longing filled her. She wanted that, wanted him. Now, always. So. For him, she would find a way. “Yes,” she finally answered. “I can win the next competition.”

Cold, hard, merciless. That’s how she would have to be. And she would. She would prove her worth, as she’d always wanted to do. No one would stop her.

The assassin-like thoughts were ruined when she yawned.

Strider fed her the hamburger, then asked her inane, easily answered questions so that she could have the shake as payment. When she finished, he said, “Rest now. I’ve got big plans for you later.”

Her gaze snapped to the apex of his thighs, to the semi-erection he currently sported.

A laugh boomed from him. “Dirty-minded Harpy.”

“You said big. I just assumed…” Hoped…

“Sleep,” he ordered, grinning.

“Well, was that what you meant or not?” Her eyelids fluttered closed, but she was grinning, too.

“You’ll just have to wait and find out.”