“I will speak with Clerici,” Zacharel finally said. “Do not slay Fox until you’ve heard from me.”
Relief stormed through him. Knowing the emotion would seep into his voice, he opted to nod, remaining silent. All the while, his thoughts whirled.
Ten days to raise an army.
Ten days to move to Hell.
Ten days to save Fox.
Ten days to learn every detail about her past and every facet of her personality.
Ten days to kiss and touch her.
With a deadline now set, a sense of urgency overtook him. Get to Fox. Now! What he’d do when he got there, he didn’t know. Yet.
Chapter Eleven
“What are you doing?”
Bjorn’s deep, husky voice shattered the quiet, and Fox jumped up with a curse. Caught red-handed. She’d been digging in the far corner of the cell, where the shadows were thickest. Her plan? Secretly create a tunnel beneath the cells until she reached the doorless whipping room. From there, she’d have a straight shot to the club and then the exit.
She’d been listening for footsteps, and also sniffing for any hint of Bjorn’s incredible scent, but she’d gotten nothing. Now, he was here. The guy she shipped. The cream-filling in her life Twinkie. And what the hell had she inhaled with all that sniffing because, duuude. Life Twinkie?
As she’d dug, she’d smelled a metallic odor of blood and a hint of cotton candy. Blood and candy, the same mix she’d tasted when she’d woken up in bed with Bjorn three days after her whipping. Why?
Figure it out later. Heart thudding, she pivoted on her heel…and gasped. Bjorn stood a few feet away. Meaning, he stood inside the cell. Excitement buzzed along her nerve endings. In an instant, her skin flushed, her nipples puckered, and her belly quivered.
She gulped. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
Oh, he noticed, all right. His eyelids hooded. His lips parted and softened, as if preparing for a kiss. Tension pulled his skin taut and bulged his muscles.
He looked good. Better than good. His dark hair stuck out in wild spikes. His rainbow eyes glittered brighter than ever before. A dusting of stubble shadowed his strong jaw, and a flush gifted his bronzed skin with a coppery sheen.
Wait. He’d asked a question, and she had yet to answer. “Obviously, I’m giving myself a dirt mani-pedi. All the rage…cool kids…you get it.” Earlier, she’d decided to seduce him to make him fall in love with her. No better time to start. Stepping closer and waggling her fingers near his face, she said, “Do you like the end result?”
He snapped his teeth in the direction of her fingers, half-playful, half-serious, before saying, “Slipping through the bars has a higher likelihood of success than digging under the walls. There are myriad traps set throughout the foundation to ensure diggers lose their hands and perhaps a bit of brain matter.”
He sounded so matter-of-fact, as if the escape attempt hadn’t surprised or angered him in the least. Another shock.
Sent Ones cannot lie, but they can mislead, Distrust whispered. You’ve been digging for hours, and nothing has happened. Stop now, and he will laugh about your gullibility with his friends.
She swallowed a groan. Distrust had healed from his injuries and now hoped to feed. Too bad, so sad. In this, she wouldn’t entertain a single doubt. While she and Bjorn hadn’t known each other long, she had already learned a ton about him. He wasn’t the type to misdirect. Or laugh.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” she grumbled. Wait. There was something different about him. Several somethings, in fact. A stronger, sharper intensity…a primitive wildness…a panty-melting ferocity… Warm shivers spilled over her. Who or what caused these changes? Because she needed to send a Thank You basket.
“Come,” he said, holding out his hand.
Her frown deepened as she wrenched backward. “Why? You’ve claimed you won’t harm me today or kiss me again, so, what are you hoping to do with me?”
A muscle ticked beneath his eye. “I will escort you to my bathroom, where you will shower and change into clean clothes.”
Seriously? Do not reveal your excitement. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll shower and change because you insist. See what a good little prisoner I am?” He’s all but begging to be seduced. She hurried over to accept his hand, only to draw back just before contact. “But again, I have to ask…why?” What was his endgame?
“Your execution has been temporarily postponed,” he admitted. “I will not discuss the reasons until—”
“Why was it postponed?” she interjected. Deep inside, hope went to war with suspicion.
“—we are out of the dungeon.” He sighed and intertwined their fingers. His calluses produced the most delectable friction, sending a lance of heat up her arm, down her torso, and to her core.
Remaining silent, he turned them both to mist, the sensation just as eerie as before. As soon as they cleared the bars, she expected to be released. Instead, he tightened his hold.
As they trekked upstairs, she attempted to open a portal with her free hand. A test, just in case. Once again, she failed. Gah! How did he negate her ability so easily and so consistently?
Allowing him to lead her through the house, she traced her gaze over every inch of him, searching for any hint of a weapon to steal. Again, just in case. Alas, if he’d strapped a dagger anywhere, the robe hid it well. But then, he might not have need of daggers. The guy forged a sword of fire from thin air.
He led the way, his steps clipped and hurried as he all but dragged her behind him, her shorter legs unable to keep up. “If you attempt to escape while you’re out of your cell…”. His voice trailed off.
“Let me guess,” she said with a wry tone, “I’ll suffer in ways I’ve never imagined possible.”
He didn’t deny it, which made her think he maybe, might, probably decided not to harm her…at all? The hope returned, stronger than ever. Probably too strong. Getting ahead of yourself.
“If you succeed,” he said, “I’ll turn my sights to Galen.”
Oh, that burned. Rather than yelling at him, accomplishing nothing, she changed the subject. “How’d your meeting go?” she asked, not really expecting a response. Information was power, after all, and there was always a chance something she learned could aid her escape.
“As well as expected,” he said, surprising her. “Each member of the Elite must recruit an army of a hundred Warriors. We must then move to Hell, where we will aid the Kings of the Underworld, as well as their allies, the Lords of the Underworld. Both factions currently war with Lucifer.”
First, why would Bjorn share so much information with her unless he planned to use her in some way?
Second, Galen loved the Lords and their assortment of Ladies. Actually, Galen was a Lord. Technically, Fox was a Lady. Knowing her friend would have fierce Sent Ones at his back amid every battle pleased her greatly.
Unless the Sent Ones plan to take out the Lords, too.
The demon’s dig hit its mark, tanking her enjoyment. Sent Ones despised demons—pure evil—and rightfully so, but they also tended to dislike the demon-possessed. Galen needed Fox. “You should take me with you,” she told Bjorn, doing her best to erase the eagerness from her tone. “I’m a nifty tool to have during times of war.” She would personally guard Galen and Legion, just as they would defend her. Things would go back to normal. They’d be a family again.
Longing nearly rent her chest in two. Family. A foundation on which to stand. A support system in times of trouble. Built-in cheerleaders. Therapists who offered free sessions, listening to her problems and offering advice. People obligated to love her no matter what.
“The war is what I wished to discuss with you outside of the dungeon.” He gave her fingers a comforting squeeze. “My leader is deciding whether or not to use your portal-opening skills during battle. There are problems, of course. We do not know if we can trust you not to portal us into a trap or harm us in some way. And what if the demon influences you again?”
Hope rose an
d crashed again and again like a freaking carnival ride. Nothing she said would convince Bjorn to trust her, so she didn’t even try. “I guess you guys will just have to decide if the risk is worth the reward, because I’m a hundred percent in.”
He flicked a glance over his shoulder, his brow furrowed with confusion, as if her easy acceptance baffled him.
“What? I like the idea of helping you,” she admitted. “I’ll be helping Galen and Legion, too.” And talk about a choice notation for her resume! Killer of Lucifer the Destroyer, Prince of Darkness and King of Deception. Plus, she relished the chance to cheer for Bjorn during battle. Would he be cold and methodical, or fiery and unpredictable?
When they reached the upper suites, she caught sight of Thane and Xerxes. The two were talking and laughing in a communal sitting room. The waystation between three different hallways. Thane sat upon a couch, a gorgeous brunette perched on his lap. She must be the cherished Elin.
Envy poked at Fox. He had his strong arms wrapped around his wife. A protective, possessive, adoring hold. The kind of embrace Fox had never experienced for herself.
Xerxes sat across from the couple. Spotting her and Bjorn, the threesome went quiet. As soon as they noticed the position of her hand, tension electrified the air.
Fox pasted on a sunny smile and waved. “Hey, guys. I’m so glad we ran into you. Isn’t it time for my weekly whipping?”
Thane scowled. Xerxes ran his tongue over his teeth.
Voice coated in frost, Elin said, “You’re the one who killed those Sent Ones.”
Never going to live that down. “So, you’re not going to sign the roster to become my new best friend?” Fox hiked her shoulders in a whatever shrug. “I’ll try to get over my disappointment.”
A corner of Bjorn’s mouth twitched, surprising her.
Xerxes arched one white brow, asking Bjorn, “We reward prisoners for escape attempts now?”
How did he know she’d tried to escape? Unless…
They’d put cameras in the dungeon, hadn’t they? She bit her tongue, tasting blood.
“Of course, she attempted an escape,” Bjorn said, and still, he sounded anything but upset. “Just as we tried to do when we were prisoners of the demons.” He offered no more, just led a flabbergasted Fox to a bedroom in the second hallway.
He’d defended her. To his friends. Bjorn, her executioner, had actually defended her to his friends. She couldn’t…she hadn’t… Shock propelled Fox into a wild state of suspended animation.
They entered his bedroom, the same room as before except—wow. He had all new furnishings and tons of knickknacks. Bejeweled knickknacks. Pure luxury. On the bed were soft sheets and a plush comforter. The softest rug in the history of ever made her feel as though she walked on pillows. Oh, oh, oh! He now had a ginormous TV!