Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues 2)

Noa shifted on the wooden seat, watching him fight the pain. But then he snapped his head up, and as fury flashed across his face, he charged at her again. Just as his hands reached the bars, wrapping around the iron, he dropped to his knees, holding his breath. His body jerked and his muscles strained underneath his reddening skin. His neck was corded and strained and his teeth clenched together. The collar’s electrical bite was clearly agonizing.

But even through it all, he kept his murderous blue gaze on Noa, promising all the hurt his hands could possibly inflict.

Then he closed his eyes and started to breathe, like there was some part of him that was rational, that was somehow talking him down. Noa watched, fascinated, as he seemed to calm himself. His breathing went from harsh pants to smooth rises and heavy falls of his broad chest. After several seconds, he opened his eyes, and Noa saw something else in their depths. A flash of something that wasn’t monstrous.

A flicker of humanity.

Noa sat forward on her seat, remote in one hand, knife in the other. The man’s nostrils flared as he watched her back, a duel of wills. “Come closer,” he said, with a soft hooking of his lip that looked beyond enticing on his stunning face. Noa couldn’t believe how a simple smile could make him that much more attractive.

She sat back in her chair, crossing her right leg over her left. “I think I’ll stay here, thanks.”

His head repeatedly twitched, and his beautiful smile widened to an uncomfortable grin. “I want to meet you properly.” Noa felt like she was talking to the demon controlling the man and not the actual man himself. When she didn’t move, he gripped the bars harder, the only indication of his ire. The bars groaned under his grasp, and Noa had a flash of fear that, due to their age, they might not hold.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“What’s yours?” he replied, a growl to his tone.

“Noa.” She searched his body. The light was low in the cave, but she found scar upon scar on his skin. And faint scars circling his wrists. She stilled as she suddenly felt her own wrists burn.

The man must have seen her attention was on his wrist scars, as he said, “Ever been on a rack?” He smiled wide, teeth showing, but the sight wasn’t comforting. He asked the question as though it were a threat.

Noa got to her feet and approached him. His eyes tracked her the entire way. She stopped just out of reach of the bars and rolled back the cuffs of her shirt. She held up her wrists, and the white scars shone silver in the path of the lamp. The man’s head canted to the side, like a predator trying to work out exactly what kind of creature its prey was.

Noa reached down to her leggings and pulled the legs up. The scars on her ankles were visible too. She turned her attention back to the man, whose gaze snapped from her ankles to her face. “Yeah. I’ve been on a rack.”

“Who are you?” he snarled, the iron bars groaning under the pressure of his grip.

“Who are you?”

He smiled again. The cold look on his face sent chills to Noa’s spine. “Your worst fucking nightmare.”

This time Noa smiled back, and something lit in the man’s eyes. His smile turned from taunting to what could be deemed impressed in a split second. Noa crouched down to his level. She held up her knife and the makeshift remote. “Actually, it seems like I’m yours.”

“Let me out and we’ll see,” the man said smoothly.

Noa felt that stirring in her chest that she had pushed back years ago. She felt it curling inside of her at the sound of this man’s voice. Intrigued by his aura of pitch-darkness, the constant threat in his every move. “You killed that priest,” Noa said, waiting for his reaction.

It was instant. The game of verbal tennis they had been playing crashed to a sudden stop, and he slammed against the bars, teeth bared as he hissed, “He needed to fucking die. They all needed to fucking die.”

“All?” Noa held her ground as the man turned feral before her.

He suddenly calmed, then lifted his head, the taunting side of him returning. “You. It was you who got to them all first. You tied them all up but left them alive.”

Noa suddenly realized what he was saying. “You killed more priests last night, didn’t you?”

“You’re fucking weak,” he spat. “Pathetic. You should have slit their throats and stabbed their hearts.”

“Why?” Noa said, focusing on the brand on his torso.

The man followed her eyes and then tilted his head as he studied her. He smiled again. His head twitched. But he stayed silent, hands gripping the bars, bloodied body unmoving.