Kiss of the Betrayer (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (2 page)

“Go,” Jade said quietly to the man.

He coughed. “You control the demon?”

She opened her mouth to tell him to shut up but before she could utter a word, Rell shot across the distance to tower over him.

“Nobody—” Talons clawed the ground next to the man’s leg—“controls the demon.”

He scrambled backward. Jade raced across the clearing and jumped between them, bracing her back against the demon’s chest to stop another attack. “Go! Now!”

His gaze darted from her to Rell. Finally jumping to his feet, he fled into the woods. They stood, back to chest, watching until he’d disappeared.

Jade released a heavy breath and turned. “I’m proud of you.”

Rell gave a snort of disgust. “You should have let me kill him.”

“Why? Because it feels good?”

A fanged smile pulled across the creature’s mouth. “No, because the jackass called you a stupid cow.” The demon reached and brushed a sweaty strand of hair from Jade’s face. “Nobody calls my sister names—but me.”

C
HAPTER
T
WO

The Iron Crown Tavern, Faela

Luc dodged the barstool flying past his head but failed to avoid the man’s uppercut. A meaty fist slammed into his jaw, sending him backward into a crowd of scantily clad women. Their shrieks filled the air, but thankfully their soft bodies cushioned his descent. Plump bosoms pressed against his head and the smell of heavy perfume over body odor enveloped him. The group stumbled under his weight, but settled without injury in a loose pile on the floor.

“Ladies.” Luc smiled, wincing at the pain in his jaw. He struggled to stand but the room spun around him. His hands conveniently fondled as much exposed flesh as possible before finding his feet. “I’m grateful for the assistance.”

The women giggled and trailed their hands across his shoulders, down his back and over his butt. One dark-haired lovely cupped his crotch before lowering her hand.

Luc’s smile spread. “Weeell,” he slurred. “Maybe I have time for a little—”

Hands gripped his collar and the waist of his pants, lifting him upright and off the ground. With an animal roar, the behemoth tossed Luc like a bag of grain. His body was hurled across the room, the low, black beams of the tavern just inches above his head. A rickety table broke his fall and collapsed, sending wood, ale, and its occupants scattering.

Luc lay among the splintered timber, the tang of blood in his mouth and a fierce pounding in his head. How had his evening gone so awry? One minute he was enjoying a pint and the attentions of a particularly friendly lass, and the next, he found himself ejected from his seat by a most
unfriendly
man.

“Stay away from my woman.” The stranger towered over Luc, pointing a fat finger at his face. “Do you hear me?”

Luc struggled to sit, the pile of wood shifting under him. “I beg your pardon, sir.” The skin around his lower lip felt tight and hot. “I didn’t realize the lady was with you.” He held his hand out. “Some assistance, please.”

The brute glowered at him.

“Truly sir, you have my deepest apologies for any affront I might have caused.”

The man grunted and clutched Luc’s hand, hauling him to his feet.

“Thank you.” He brushed the chips of wood from his leather tunic and wiped the spatters of ale from his face with his sleeve. “It was all a misunderstanding.” He smiled up at the giant. “You misunderstood my friendly nature as flirting with your woman and I misunderstood the way she kept rubbing my cock under the table as her availability.”

The brute roared and Luc threw his punch, connecting with his attacker’s stomach. The man doubled over, meeting Luc’s raised knee, but he was made of sterner stuff and barreled forward, taking Luc down.

The massive weight of the stranger knocked the breath from Luc’s body. Punches rained down on his face, splitting his lower lip. Pain ricocheted through his body with each blow. With a hard jab, he landed an elbow strike in the man’s neck. Air rushed from the stranger’s lungs and he coughed. Luc punched him again in the jaw, which seemed to have no effect other than to make the brute angrier. A snarl squeezed from between the man’s gritted teeth a second before he grabbed Luc’s head and beat it against the floor.

Luc managed another direct hit to the thick jaw, causing the stranger to release his skull and reel backward. Black dots danced in front of his eyes and he struggled to sit up, but he was still trapped under the weight of the man. With no escape, he lifted his arms to block the incoming assault but gained little relief. Kicks followed punches, battering any exposed body parts. Luc curled into a ball, shielding himself from the free-for-all, which now felt like multiple hands, multiple feet, and multiple people.

The sound of breaking bottles rang from somewhere seconds before shards of glass showered him. The beating suddenly stopped, followed by a thunderous crash next to him.

Taking advantage of the lull in his thrashing, Luc uncurled and rolled over to push up to his hands and knees. The tang of blood mixed with the stale taste of ale. His stomach roiled and he coughed, making it difficult to breathe. The swelling around his eyes impeded his vision and the hot throbbing of his cheek vibrated from his temple to his teeth. He reached for the table to help him stand, but missed. Strong hands wrapped around his biceps and jerked him off the ground.

“Not again,” he moaned, squinting through bloated lids. In the tavern’s dim light he could barely make out the two cloaked figures holding him. “You’re not going to hit me, are you?” His head swam from the pummeling and the numerous pints of ale he’d consumed. “Cuz, I must say, I feel I’ve had my fair share tonight.”

Each stranger secured one of his arms around their shoulders and dragged him toward the door. Luc’s legs wouldn’t cooperate with his mental command to stand and fight. None too gently, they jostled him up the narrow stairs and out onto the dark street. Cool air brushed his face.

“No more fighting for you tonight,” a deep voice ordered.

“Damn, and I was doing so well, don’t you think?” He laughed and winced, then swung his head toward the speaker. A black hood shielded the man’s face, making it impossible to identify him. Luc stumbled, but they held him upright. “Did my father send you?”

“No,” the other stranger said.

Luc craned his neck, trying to bring the second man into focus, but the action only made his head bobble uncontrollably. The world spun and thunder ricocheted inside his skull. He inhaled, trying to settle his stomach. The smell of rotting fish and seawater filled his nostrils. Vague recognition cued him to the fact that they were traveling along the docks. Ships creaked and rocked against their lines and the noise from the tavern faded into the lapping of waves.

Their footsteps sounded hollow and overly loud against the wooden planks of the pier. With great effort, Luc concentrated on not stumbling.

Another cloaked figure stood at the end of a gangway, watching their approach. The image wavered and slowly settled into focus. The person appeared smaller than the two men holding him.

Luc’s fighting spirit rallied. He could probably overpower the smaller one if need be. The strangers shifted, hefting him higher. Luc’s stomach muscles clenched against the piercing ache in his side. Maybe he could take the little one, but he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Progress up the gangway was slow. Luc tried to widen his swollen eyes, but gained only a fraction of an inch more clarity. He tripped and lurched forward onto the deck of the ship but the men steadied him, taking most of his weight. The surroundings looked familiar. He knew this ship. He was almost certain.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Bed,” one of the strangers said. “To sleep it off.”

“Well now, that’s very decent of you,” Luc said, giving his supporters a grateful smile. “Do me a favor, friends. Don’t tell my father. He’ll kill me if he knows I’ve been fighting again.”

One of the men chuckled but didn’t respond further.

They maneuvered across the deck and around a large blackened hole in the center. The faint odor of charred wood hung in the air. Luc took exaggerated steps away from the hole, the gentle rocking of the ship making it difficult to traverse a safe path. A small door stood open with the smaller stranger waiting at the side.

“This is Rhys Blackwell’s ship.” The need to defend his friend’s vessel flared but quickly fizzled. Every movement took energy—energy he didn’t have. “I hope for your sake he knows you’re using it? Probably does. He knows everything. And Siban, I can’t get away with anything—always knows when I’m lying.”

They ignored his drunken ramblings and they half-walked, half-dragged him across the floor of the captain’s quarters and set him on the bed.

Luc’s injuries coalesced into one giant ache. He groaned and melted into a boneless mass against the bedpost. The cool wood pressed into his aching cheek and prevented him from falling forward.

The smaller figure stepped inside the room, locked the door, and threw back her hood. Black curls tumbled from the covering and pale blue eyes sparkled with concern.

“Ravyn?” Luc tried to widen his lids. He pointed. “Ravyn.”

The two men pulled their cloaks over their heads and tossed them to the side.

“Rhys! Siban! What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass, my friend.” Rhys knelt in front of him and gave a low whistle. “You need to quit stopping fists with your face.”

Luc laughed and winced. “Got in a good punch or two. Did you see it?”

“Impressive,” Ravyn said. She joined Rhys and knelt, pushing Luc’s hair out of his face. Her fingers traced his swollen eye. “Very impressive.”

She cupped a hand against the side of his face and whispered words he couldn’t understand. Heat spread along his cheek and down his neck. The throbbing eased, bringing blessed relief from the headache that had started at the base of his neck. The room began to spin.

“Lay back on the bed, Luc.” Ravyn’s voice lulled him, zapping any argument he might have considered working up. She swiped her hand across his forehead and pushed the hair away from his face. “Everything is going to be all right.”

His body went willingly and settled against the soft down tick. The scent of lavender wafted from the pillow when he laid his head on it, reminding him of Ravyn. Her fingers lingered against his skin before she rose to stand next to Rhys.

Even in his drunken state, Luc was glad he couldn’t fully make out their expressions. He thought he’d caught a hint of uncertainty in Ravyn’s expression. Maybe it was disappointment or pity. He was suddenly grateful that his eyelids were nearly swollen shut. Nobody spoke. Shame crept over him, but he’d lost the capacity to care what people thought of him long ago. Drink melted his pride and numbed his morals.

“Is he strong enough?” Rhys asked, looking at Ravyn. “Maybe we should wait until he sobers up.”

“I think these are just bruises and cuts and a lot of ale.” She looked at Rhys. “But I’ll heal him first. We can’t risk anything going wrong. I’m already guessing at too much.”

“What are you talking about?” Luc tried to sit up, certain he needed to be involved in whatever plan his friends were discussing. “I can help.”

Rhys lifted Luc’s hand and held his wrist in a tight grip. “Test him.”

“Test me for what?” he slurred.

Rhys threaded his fingers through Luc’s, pulling his hand open. Before Luc could react, Ravyn stepped forward and sliced his palm with a knife. The lamplight caught the blade and Luc recognized it as Ravyn’s immortal dagger, the weapon used to convert a Bringer to full power.

“Son of a—” Luc cried.

Rhys released him. Luc snatched his hand back to stare at the blood that welled but didn’t spill from the gash across his palm. He clenched his fist against the pain.

“Why the shaggin’ Saints did you cut me?”

“In death there is life,” Ravyn said. “In sacrifice, return.”

A tingle sparked in Luc’s hand. Heat raced along the cut. He opened his fist and stared at the slash. Pain snaked along the wound but his protest died on his lips. Threads of euphoria pushed against his muddled mind.

“All barriers destroyed and evil be spurned,” Ravyn continued.

Luc let his hand fall open to rest on the bed and looked at Ravyn, blinking several times to bring her into view. White light pulsed around her and ribbons of gold coiled outward, dancing around him. The burning of the cut faded away to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of love.

“No hindrance remain, from our blood be renewed.”

He tried to sit up again, needing to go to her, but Siban pushed him back down. Her words were like a warm rain spilling over Luc, drenching and cleansing the stain on his soul. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye but he didn’t wipe it away.

“That which was taken settle in those who Bring true,” Ravyn finished.

“Ahhh!” Luc clutched his hand to his chest “What’s happening?”

His two friends knelt by the bed—Rhys, his best friend, at his feet and Siban, the mixed-blood Tell who Luc had recently come to think of as a friend, by his head. Ravyn stood.

“Relax, Luc.” Ravyn’s voice penetrated his pain. “We’re almost finished.”

Rhys laid his body across his legs as Siban stood over him and pressed his biceps to the bed.

“Finished?” Luc held Ravyn’s gaze, wanting nothing more than to go to her. He struggled against the men’s hold. “Release me.”

A spark of reality pushed through the haze of euphoria that gripped him. Being pinned down, unable to move, was tantamount to complete submission. Never was he
completely
at somebody’s mercy. He kicked and twisted against his restrainers. The sensation of being bound pushed away all traces of confusion. Panic rose.

“Damn you, let me go!” His shout filled the room. Surely, somebody would hear him. “Why are you doing this?”

He thrashed about, needing to get free, but the men shifted their weight to pin him fully to the bed.

“Hurry up,” Rhys growled.

Ravyn stepped to the bed and Luc froze, trying to understand the scene before him. Blue light glowed around the blade of the dagger she held—pointed directly at his chest—her intent clear.