Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

The Drone followed my gaze. In a blur, he was at her side, hand on the pulse at her throat. “Eveline,” he called without turning around. “Bone in or bone out?”

“What?”

“Bone out then.” He jumped, cleaving to her body. The hooks ripped through her palms. He landed, gripped her neck and cracked it over his knee. The protruding spinal column gleamed in the artificial light as he swung the corpse toward the wall, where it joined the decomposing mound.

More bile pushed past my teeth, splattering my lap. My hands wrenched in the binds as I screamed, “The baby. Her baby.” Oh Christ, why didn’t he save it?

He stared at the ceiling, exhaled, then shot me a piercing look. “She was only two-weeks into gestation.”

Impossible. “Why did she die?”

“Few survive the gestation period. She was especially weak. “

“She was a child.” The burn in my throat roughened my voice as I asked the question my survival hinged on. “Why do you want them broken?”

A wave rippled through his cloak. “A broken winged bird cannot fly.”

Neither could a heartbroken woman. Roark was the bandage that bound my wounds and held me together. My scars ripped open when I thought he was dead. Was there a limit to what I could endure to save him? And if I failed, would I have anything left to save myself?

The empty hooks rotated lazily, waiting.

He leaned closer to the bars. “I will break you.”

I’d make damn sure he wouldn’t. But when he unbuckled his brother’s straps, my gut ignited.

The naked man stood on wobbly legs and swiped sputum from his chin. Muscles bucked in his chest and his red-veined eyes narrowed on the Drone.

“Lower your eyes!” The Drone’s shout was a thunderclap, sending my chin into my chest though I knew it wasn’t directed at me. “Very good. Now we had an agreement. You have earned your reward.”

I could guess what that meant. I readied my muscles. Get him on his back. Put him in a choke hold. Then what? Use him as a hostage to get past the Drone? Piece of cake.

The Imago sauntered toward my cage, erection guiding his way. He dismantled the lock and gripped my ankles with sweaty hands. Gravel scraped my back as he dragged me out. I twisted a leg free, hooked it around his.

He stumbled but stayed on his feet. His foot shot toward my face. I rolled to my stomach, panting. He panted, too, crawling atop me, crushing the air from my lungs.

The Drone’s boots paced by. “Dear brother, shall I retrieve her incentive?”

Roark. My cheek touched the floor, exhales steaming on the crumbling stone. “That won’t be necessary.”

Hard-on jabbed in my back, I lay on my stomach and absorbed the enormity of my nightmare. First, he would rape me. Probably in the next few moments. Probably on the sawhorse. Then he would repeat the violation day after day until my womb rounded with…what? A child? A monster? Between coitus, they’d hang me from the hooks. If I fought them and lost, they’d bring in Roark. If I cooperated—my stomach lurched—I’d have nine months to plan my escape. They wouldn’t kill me until I delivered. Or worse, they would never kill me.

The ice-cold hand of fear took hold of me. It closed my eyes so I couldn’t see and clung to my skin in cold beads of sweat. I tasted it on my tongue as my back teeth carved more gashes in my cheeks.

He flipped me over, gripped my jaw and widened his own. A purple stump bobbed around the shouts gargling in his gullet. His other hand held his dagger at my throat, slid it down my sternum. As it cut through the robe and chemise, it caught the leather string around my neck. My turquoise rock spun through the air and landed on the heap of bodies.

My muscles screamed to retaliate. Inhale. Exhale. I would survive whatever they dished out, with Roark and my soul intact. “Do your worst.”

The hilt jarred my teeth, whipping my head back. Pain shot through my neck. He used that moment to force my legs apart and kneel between them.

I writhed and bucked, tried to roll from under him. His hand captured my throat and squeezed. My lungs labored, and the room dimmed.

“Siraj.” The familiar voice pushed through the wave of pain.

The doctor’s black eyes came into focus above us. “My recommendation stands, stronger now than ever, that we run more tests before our human host conceives.”

Human host? I wanted to stab him. And hug him.

The Imago released me and threw up his hands, eyes flashing. “Ro ew ell.”

“I agreed to help you under my terms, Aiman. I expected your trust in this partnership. I will not wager our only human host for your brother’s lasciviousness. If you value my expertise and this partnership, you will heed my counsel.”