UnholyCravings (9 page)

She watched him as he bent low, then caught a glimpse of the
heart tattoo on his shoulder. It matched the one Soren wore on his hip.

She had bonded with both men, but how? She had never heard
of anything like this happening before. Yet there it was, the evidence staring
at her in the face.

“Tara, are you okay?” Soren asked.

She glanced back at him. The red had completely gone, and
his face showed concern. “Did we hurt you?”

“No.” She pressed her lips against his, giving him a quick,
chaste kiss. Then she moved closer to Donar.

He straightened. At his full height he was taller than
Soren, more foreboding. Tara didn’t fear him, however. Instead, she felt the
need to touch the darkness in his soul, to make him understand that he was
needed, not just by Soren, but by her. What he did wasn’t shameful, it was
beautiful.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in
his chest. “Thank you.”

He stiffened. “For what?”

“For everything.” She tightened her grip and tried to press
her body inside of his. She was going to make him feel her love, even if it
killed her.

After a long moment, he dropped his clothes and wrapped his
hands around her waist.

Tara turned her head up and kissed his jaw. “You were
prefect,” she said.

Donar patted her back, then disentangled her from his body. “We
must go.”

She felt him pull away and she realized that he didn’t
believe her. He was ashamed of himself, ashamed of what he had become. Tara
wanted nothing more than to prove to him that he was wrong.

Later. Donar was right. They had already dallied too long in
this alley. It was a miracle that a
deahman
didn’t stumble upon them.
They had to move. Tara promised herself that later on, when they were safe, she’d
show Donar how much he was needed. Perhaps she’d recruit Soren to help…

Part of her was sad that the men had control over their
deahmans
once more. Tara found that she liked their inner darkness, she liked the
controlling Donar and the sensitive Soren. She wanted them back. She watched
Soren put on his jeans and noticed something in Soren’s pocket.

“You’re glowing again,” she said.

“What?” Soren looked down at his pants, then shoved his
hands in his pocket.

“What’s that?” Donar asked.

Tara gasped as Soren opened his hand to reveal a glowing red
crystal. “The stone.”

Both men looked at her in silent question.

“A shard of the demon stone.” She waved her hands in the
air. “Don’t you remember?”

“No,” Soren said.

“It was why you went into hell. Darien had discovered how
the
deahmans
were able to cross the portal into Earth. They had used a
stone.” She pointed to the shard, then began to dress. “I was there the day you
left.”

“There were three of you, weren’t there?” Soren asked.

“Yes. Myself, my queen and another warrior named Ilona. We
tried to prevent you from going down into the portal, but your leader, Darien,
tricked us. Don’t you remember?”

Donar frowned. “I remember something.” He shook his head. “It’s
all fuzzy.”

Tara glanced at the shard. Why would it be glowing? They had
all assumed that since Darien and Arianne shattered the
deahman
stone
into five pieces, that the shards would be useless. It seemed as if the shards
still held some type of power, but what?

Presumably, it allowed
deahman
s to cross the portal
once more. That was how Soren and Donar were able to get back. It was also
probably how Urian and the others were able to get through. This could mean
serious trouble. Now they weren’t only vulnerable to one stone, but multiple
stones.

Darien had managed to find and keep one of the five. This
was the second. Urian probably had the third. That meant there were two more
out there, somewhere. Who else had found a stone shard? In the wrong hands it
could cause more harm than good.

One thing was clear. Tara had to get these two back to
Darien and Adrianne as soon as possible.

She picked up her pants and threw them on. They were
hopelessly ripped in the legs, but at least her private parts were still
covered. “Give me a minute.” She pulled out her cell and walked a few steps
away.

“Sparrow.” The cool, masculine voice echoed through the
line.

Tara breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar voice. “Road
Runner here.”

“Fuck it all.” She heard papers rustling on the other end of
the line. “Where are you, Road Runner?”

“I’m not sure.” She looked around. “In the alley next to
that abandoned Italian restaurant. Gianni’s.”

“Stay put, I’m coming for you. I think I have some people
already in that area.”

“We can’t.” They had already wasted too much time in one
spot. They had to keep moving. If the
deahmans
weren’t so caught up with
the fire, they would have found them already.

She needed to get somewhere safe, but where? Not the FBI
headquarters. Darien still believed there was an informant there for the
deahmans
.
It was also the first place any
deahman
would look for the twins. She
couldn’t go to her home, Celestial Wood, either. It would be like leading an
entire army of
deahmans
to the
Iatros
doorstep. It was too
dangerous.

So where did that leave them? Only one place came to mind.

“We’ll meet you at rendezvous point A,” she said.

There was silence for a moment, the kind of quiet that made
a person uneasy. “Sparrow? Do you copy?”

“What? Yes, yes I copy.” She heard some movement on the
other line. “Rendezvous A.”

“Good. We’ll be there within the hour.” The meeting place
was still in the city, but Tara didn’t have enough money for a taxi to travel
very far. It would have to do. She said her goodbyes and snapped her phone
shut. “Come on,” she said to the men. “We need to move. The sky is too cloudy
today to keep the
deahmans
indoors. We’ll have to do the best we can.”

Tara led the two men out of the alley and hailed a taxi. She
pulled open the door and motioned the twins inside.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Soren asked.

“Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

Soren shrugged. “I don’t know. Something feels off.”

“It’s safe, believe me,” Tara said.

“There they are.” A low voice rose up through the air behind
her.

Tara looked over Donar and Soren’s shoulder to see a group
of
deahmans
round the corner and pour out into the street. Donar’s jaw
hardened and he grabbed the hilt of his sword.

“No, not here.” Tara placed her hand over his as the
deahmans
approached. “There are too many innocent people.” She motioned around them at
the passing crowd.

Donar hesitated, then nodded. “Hurry then.”

Tara ushered them inside and climbed after them.

“Wait. Stop that taxi,” one of the
deahmans
called
after them.

Tara motioned to the driver to go. He pulled his hooded
sweatshirt closer around his head and pointed to the approaching
deahmans
.

“I’ve never seen them before in my life. Please hurry, we’re
running late.”

The taxi driver hesitated, his pale hands hovering over the
wheel. Tara suspected that he didn’t believe her. She was trying to come up
with an alternative when the driver put the taxi into gear and pulled away from
the curb.

Tara told the driver to go to a local restaurant on the
outskirts of town and settled back in her seat. A former FBI agent ran a bar
there. Every once in a while he would grant sanctuary and information to agents
passing through. You had to make it worth his while however, and Tara wasn’t
sure if she had enough funds to buy his silence. No matter. Sparrow would help
once he arrived.

Rendezvous point A.
If she could get sanctuary, then
they should be safe enough from any passing
deahmans
until the twins got
the rest of their memory back.

Tara picked her cell up from her jacket and dialed Samir’s
number. She wanted to give him their new location so that after he ditched the
bitch back at the hotel, he could swing around and meet them. She didn’t call
him often, but they were close enough so that he was on her speed dial. She
pressed the number and waited.

The call went straight to voicemail. She couldn’t leave a
message. What if someone stole his phone? Tara snapped the phone shut in
frustration. Where was he? She hoped that he was okay.

Chapter Nine

Donar didn’t like the expression on Tara’s face as she put
away the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“My friend…” She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

Soren pulled out the shard from his pocket once more. “It’s
still glowing.”

“It’s the
deahman
magic,” Tara explained. “Their
magic causes things to glow red.”

“But you said that we spent time in hell with these
deahmans
and we don’t glow,” Donar said.

Tara hesitated a moment before responding. “Your eyes glow
red when the taint takes control of your body.”

Donar considered that for a moment. Did Soren’s eyes glow
red? He thought he remembered them glowing back in the alley, but he couldn’t
be sure. When he was under control of his
deahman
, everything got a
little fuzzy.

“So you can tell when the beast is in control of one of us?”
he asked.

“Yes, your eyes turn red, and your voice changes.” She
turned to Soren. “Your behavior changes too.”

Donar frowned. Part of what happened back in the alley was a
blur to him, but part of it he remembered a little
too
well. It was
wrong to use such a rough hand with Tara. She was kind and wanted to help them.
It was nothing short of surprising that she didn’t run screaming from them. It
was shameful how he treated her. He had to find some other way to control his
deahman
so that he’d never hurt her like that again.

Still, he couldn’t deny the perverse pleasure he got from
thrashing that lovely backside with his belt. If she had let him, he would have
done it until his arm had tired and her skin was a lovely shade of pink. He
loved how she called him master, how she bent to his will. His inner monster
got off on the power trip. He hated to admit it, but deep down, so did he.

Was the
deahman
changing him, or was he always like
this? He couldn’t remember what he was like before he went into hell, but he
suspected that his love of controlled pain was a result of his
deahman
.
He thought back to the incident and realized that Tara didn’t seem to mind it.
Did she like receiving pain as much as he liked to give it?

Then there was Soren. Donar flicked his gaze from Tara to
the blond man next to her. His twin, or so he was told. There was something
familiar about the man, that was for sure. He sensed a connection with Soren, a
strong one that ran deeper than friendship. Donar guessed that they probably
were twins. They both carried the same strong nose, the same dirty-blond hair.
He even noticed that Soren had the same snake tattoo on his hip.

There was no denying that Soren’s
deahman
was bound
to his own inner darkness in a way that Donar couldn’t understand. Their
monsters weren’t related, but they shared a past. He felt a sense of
responsibility for the man, like it was his job to take care of him. Did that
darker relationship mirror the human relationship? It was difficult to tell.
Donar knew that his own inner monster had claimed so much of him that he no
longer knew where the darkness ended and he began.

There was no doubt that having both these two bend to his
will was rather intoxicating. He felt protective of them as a result of it. He
knew that if anything, human or otherwise, threatened the two people next to
him in the cab, he’d defend them with his life.

“The shard glowed right before that woman burst into the
room,” Soren said, drawing Donar’s thoughts back to the conversation.

“And again right before that group of
deahmans
came
after us in the alley,” Tara added.

It seemed like those two shared a closer bond than either
did with him. It added to the loneliness he felt deep inside. Had Donar the man
always been a loner? Had the beast? Either way, Donar couldn’t help but feel a
pang of jealousy over the closeness Tara and Soren obviously shared.

Donar pushed aside his rising emotions and tried to focus. “Are
you saying that the shard is some type of homing beacon?”

“Possibly. Or it could be luring the
deahmans
to us.”
Tara frowned. “Darien said that his
deahman
could sense when other
deahmans
were near.
They
could also sense
him
. So it either could be the
stone, or the fact that you both carry
deahmans
inside of you.”

“So this Darien has this same affliction?” Donar asked. It
intrigued him. If he could speak with this Darien, then maybe he could learn
how to exhume his inner darkness.

“Yes. He has learned to control it through his mate and has
managed to stop his transformation.”

“His transformation?” Donar exchanged a glance with Soren.

Tara swallowed and shifted in her seat. “Yes, well. I’m not
sure what the case is with the two of you, but with Darien, his inner darkness
was transforming him from the inside out. Arianne managed to stop the process
through their bonding.”

“Transforming him how?” Donar wasn’t sure if he wanted to
know the answer.

She met his gaze. He saw the uneasiness, the apprehension.
It confirmed his worst fears.

“The monster fed on his soul. Each day, Darien became a
little less himself, and a little more of the monster inside of him.”

“You mean that Donar and I are changing into
deahmans
?”

She nodded. “Even now, the darkness lies at the edge of
Darien’s consciousness, waiting for the opportunity to gain control and start
feeding on his soul again. Only Arianne’s magic can keep it at bay.”

“Interesting.” Donar leaned back in his seat, lost in
thought. If what Tara said was true, then these magical creatures held the key
for eliminating the voices in his head, and quite possibly help him regain his
memory. Was it possible that Tara held what he was looking for? The key to his
past? Could she help him gain control over his
deahman
?

Perhaps that was why the woman intrigued him so much.

“But if the stone or our eyes glow when a
deahman
presence is near, why is it glowing now?” Soren asked.

Ah, the stone.
Donar glanced at the rock in Soren’s
hand. It shone red and illuminated his palm.

Tara shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it senses the two of
you.”

Donar shook his head. “No, that’s impossible. It wasn’t
glowing while we were having…” His voice trailed off, obviously at a loss for
words.

“True.”

Silence stretched as Donar searched his mind for a rational
explanation. “Perhaps our
deahmans
aren’t strong enough. Perhaps it only
glows when a greater
deahman
is present.”

“Or when it senses another shard,” Soren suggested.

Tara shook her head. “We don’t have another shard and there
are no other
deahmans
in the cab. It has to be the two of you.”

Soren sighed and silence descended upon them once more.
Donar looked out the window as he thought. It was such a damn nuisance not
having his memory. He felt like the answer to the riddle was right there, at
the edge of his consciousness. He rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble. Thanks
to Tara, he remembered going into hell. He just didn’t remember what happened
when he got there or how he had come into her presence. Everything seemed so
vague, as if trying to remember a dream upon waking.

How did he and Soren get those tattoos? Exactly what was the
extent of his relationship with Soren before they went into hell? Had they
shared a woman before?

It didn’t matter, he supposed. It seemed right to share Tara
with Soren in the alley back there. Both their
deahmans
needed to feed
and she had enough sexual energy to fill them both. What they had was sex, pure
and simple.

Then why did he feel this pang of jealousy whenever Tara
smiled at Soren?

He turned away from the window and tried to remember
something concrete about his time in hell. He searched his mind until a clear
image came to the forefront of his thoughts.

Bars.
He remembered iron bars, as if he was held in a
cage of some sort. He had gone without food and water for quite some time. He
remembered someone coming to his cage and rattling the bars, yelling at him to
sit up and take his medicine.

Medicine?
Why would he take medicine in hell?

He shook his head. The more he tried to remember, the more
his head hurt. Donar glanced at the driver. The man turned to look out the rear
view mirror and Donar met his gaze. A very familiar set of chocolate brown eyes
stared back at him. Who was he? The answer was there, right at the edge of his
consciousness.

“Do I know you?” Soren asked the driver.

Donar started. Soren knew him too?

“I don’t think so,” the driver mumbled.

“No, I know I’ve seen you before,” Soren said.

“You must be mistaken.” The driver dragged his gaze away
from the rearview mirror and stared at the road, but not before Donar saw a
flash of red.

“I’ve seen you before too.” Donar tried to access the
information from his brain. It was there, right out of reach. Why did his brain
feel so fuzzy, as if it was stuffed with cotton?

Master.

Donar blinked. His
deahman
hadn’t spoken since he had
been with Tara and Soren in the alley.
What do you mean?
he mentally
asked the voice.

Master.

Then a memory flashed through his mind, clear as day. He was
trapped in a large cage that was suspended over a pit. The room was dark and it
smelled like burning flesh. Smoke rose up from the pit and surrounded him,
making it difficult to breathe. He hadn’t known when he had last eaten, or had
a drink of water.

A figure entered the room, his face cloaked in shadow. He
pulled a lever on the side of the wall, and the cage began to move. Donar
grabbed the bars as his prison swung out and then down to the side of the pit,
next to the man. As Donar got closer, the man’s face began to materialize.

“Hold out your hands.”

The compulsion to obey was overwhelming. Donar did as he was
told. “Yes, master.” He stuck his arms through the bars of the cage.

The man pulled out a bright red stone and placed it in his
hands. “Time to take your medicine.”

Fire burned Donar’s skin and pain reached out into every
inch of his body. Something inside him screamed as his mind blanked to
everything but the extreme agony of the stone.

Then it was finished. The man pulled the stone away from his
hands and his face came clearly into focus.

“Nergal,” Donar said from the backseat. “Your name is
Nergal.”

The man glanced at him through the rearview mirror. His eyes
shone bright red, but he said nothing.

Donar was right, he could feel it. This was no man, he was
one of the highest ranking
deahmans
of the underworld, second only to
the lord himself.

Urian.
The name raced to the forefront of his mind so
fast that Donar’s head hurt. Urian was a teammate, a friend. He was in trouble.

“You were with Urian in the park earlier, weren’t you?”
Soren asked.

The driver stepped on the gas and the city flew past the
windows of the cab.

“Slow down or you’ll get us all killed!” Tara grabbed the
seat in front of her to steady herself as Nergal swerved to avoid hitting a
parked car. Tires screeched and the engine screamed. The driver’s hood fell
away from his face to reveal pale, rough skin and ebony hair cut in a military
style. A long scar ran from the man’s jaw up to his temple.

“I don’t know about the park, but he was definitely at the
hotel with that woman.” Donar’s memories tumbled back in a heady rush. Why hadn’t
Donar recognized the driver earlier?

Master.

The answer was simple. He wore a hood, which hid most of his
features. Nergal was also a very strong
deahman
. He probably used his
power to keep them from looking at him too closely.

“Hey
_,
this isn’t the way to the harbor.” Tara
straightened and looked out the window. “Where are we going?”

The driver took a hard right, throwing them to the left of
the cab. Donar’s breath
whooshed
out of him as Tara, then Soren fell on
top of him. Tara’s ass landed right in his lap and Donar groaned as desire
flared up deep in his groin. His inner darkness purred with appreciation as he
remembered her bending over in the alley. She had such a delectable ass. He
would love to…

“Hey!” Soren jumped off the pile and banged on the Plexiglas
window separating them from the driver. “Turn the cab around.”

The driver ignored them.

Tara climbed off Donar and reached over him for the door.
Donar groaned as her breasts brushed against his leg. He tried to clear his
head, but his inner
deahman
wasn’t listening. Instead it reared its ugly
head, demanding to be satisfied yet again. His beast had the worst timing.

“The door’s locked.” Tara sat back in her seat.

“This one’s locked too.” Soren banged on the reinforced
glass again, but it was as if the driver had turned a deaf ear.

Tara turned to him, her eyes wide with fear. “You said his
name was Nergal.”

“Yes.” Donar searched under the seat for something he could
use to break a window.

“You know him?”

“Nergal is a high-ranking
deahman
in hell,” Soren
offered. He glanced at Donar. “When you mentioned a name, it triggered a
memory.”

“It’s the face.” Donar would never forget the scar on the
cheek and the menacing gaze. They had to get out of there. Nergal was powerful
enough to control the minds of lesser
deahmans
, ones like Soren and
himself. With one word, Donar’s whole world could come crashing down around his
ears.

Even now he felt a compulsion to sit still and relax, to let
the driver take them wherever he wanted them to go.