The Darkest Assassin (Lords of the Underworld 14.6)

Suppressing her temper ceased being a possibility. She readjusted the screw she’d positioned between two fingers and punched, slicing into his throat. At the same time, she kicked him. He failed to block the first strike, but successfully blocked the second, clasping the chain and yanking. The collar constricted her airway, and she wheezed for breath she couldn’t catch. Then he ripped the bloody screw from her grip.

He hauled her forward. Just before he reached the bars, he became mist. He didn’t reach back to touch her, but the next thing she knew, she turned to mist, too. A cold, weightless sensation washed over her a split second before her senses flatlined. For a moment, she felt and smelled nothing. So weird!

One after the other, they exited the cell. Xerxes kept pace at the rear.

Being re-embodied was just as weird, her senses coming back to life with a rush of heat.

A soft, soft whisper wafted across the back of her mind. You cannot beat these men. Why try? You are too weak.

Was she too weak? She—

Argh! Stupid demon. Guess he’d gotten over his fear of Bjorn. I will succeed, whatever the cost! She just had to wait for the right moment…

They passed other cells. Some contained prisoners, some didn’t. Those prisoners recoiled the moment they spotted Thane, but whimpered when they caught sight of Xerxes.

When Thane turned a corner, Fox spotted a staircase at the end of the new hallway.

Now!

Fox launched into motion, latching on to the chain and yanking, just as he’d done to her. She stepped to the side as Thane stumbled backward; unfortunately, he didn’t drop his end of the chain. Very well. She would use it against him.

As soon as he passed her, she jumped up, stepped on his thigh and wrapped a leg around his shoulders. At the same time, she wound the excess chain around his neck and jerked, cutting off his airway.

When Xerxes attempted to grab her ankle and rip her off his friend, she kicked him in the face. The heel of her foot met the bridge of his nose, and cartilage snapped. He roared with agony and fury, blood running down his mouth and chin.

With a hiss, Thane threw a fist up and back. Wham. Wham. Wham. That fist slammed into Fox’s cheek, eye socket, and mouth. A bomb of pain exploded inside her head. One of her eyes swelled, blurring her vision. Her cheek stung, and her lower lip split. But the one thing she didn’t do? Budge. She punched him right back, doing her best to blind him in the process, and shoved the heels of her feet into his gut. At the same time, she continued to hold Xerxes at bay.

“Pass out already!” she growled.

Thane stopped fighting, surprising her. He clasped her legs, keeping her perched atop his shoulders and fell backward. Shit, shit, shit. Should have expected this. They crashed into the floor. Her skull hit first, then the rest of her, with Thane’s weight smashing into her.

Her lungs emptied in a single heave. As she struggled to breathe, a feather made its way into her mouth, and she coughed. Through it all, she retained her hold on the chain. She even gave a hard yank to shorten the slack and choke him out faster.

Suddenly, fingers combed through her hair and closed into a fist, pulling the strands. Xerxes! The bastard yanked her out from under Thane. Now, she lost her grip on the chain. Before she had a chance to fight back, Xerxes slung an arm around her neck, catching her in a chokehold.

Thane clambered to his feet, glared at her while flicking his tongue over an incisor, then turned on his heel to resume his journey. Once again, Xerxes followed. He kept her tucked against him, never loosening that chokehold.

Her lungs burned, and her head swam. They entered a bar-free cell bigger than her own, with tables piled high with instruments of torture. Knives, saws, tools, and other goodies often used in a violent and bloody interrogation. Sweat beaded on her nape, a droplet trickling down her spine. Though she fought, her captors successfully anchored her to a tall wooden beam, her arms secured overhead.

A whipping post? She faced the beam, keeping her back exposed.

Thane sauntered to the table and traced a fingertip over several blades. Ultimately, he selected a whip, just as she’d suspected. “Bjorn is one of the best males I’ve ever known. He has survived horrors and tortures you cannot even imagine, yet you hope to cause him more?” With every word, malice deepened his voice a little more. He moved behind her, joining Xerxes. “For this, Executioner, you will pay.”

“Sure,” she said, hating these men. Hating herself. Once again, she’d failed a mission objective. “Should I write you a check? Someone fetch my purse. Oh, wait. I left it in my other cell.”

“You joke now, but soon…soon, you will beg.” He stroked the base of the whip. “Did I forget to mention the whip is laced with infirm?de to ensure you cannot heal?”

Infirm?de. A nightmarish demon venom. It prevented even the smallest wounds from healing without some kind of antidote.

“One,” Thane said and cracked the whip.

Searing agony sent a scream barreling out of her mouth. Nausea churned in her stomach, and her eyes blurred again.

“Two.” He lashed her again. And again. Until he reached ten. Then he passed the whip to Xerxes, who whipped her ten more times.

By the time they finished, her T-shirt was shredded, and so was her back. Her knees gave out. All she could do was hang against the post, her shoulders nearly sliding out of their sockets.

Her voice was broken from her continuous screams, but at least she hadn’t begged.

Xerxes moved in front of her, pinched her chin and forced her gaze to lift. Those neon red eyes projected undiluted rage. “What did you do to Bjorn?”

“I gave him…a massive…hard-on,” she said between panting breaths. “My bad.”

He jostled her, pulling the wounds on her back. “What did you do to Bjorn?”

Tears scalded her cheeks. The pain…almost as bad as the burns she’d once sustained. But she pressed her lips together, choosing silence. She couldn’t say she wasn’t the one who’d hurt Bjorn, because at some point, she had hurt him, so Xerxes would taste the lie. Her best bet now? Her only bet? Keep taunting the two and pray they left her tied to the beam, thinking her too weak to mount an escape.

“Be honest,” she croaked. Deep breath in, out. Her panting slowed, but not by much. “You’re going to jerk off to images of my torture, aren’t you?”

He hissed in her face before stalking behind her and starting the whipping all over again…

Chapter Seven

Bjorn awoke gradually. First, the lights came on in his mind. Then, all the shops began to open, vendors selling their wares—memories, awareness, and rage. He sensed Thane and Xerxes nearby and suspected they paced around his bed. Whispers reached his ears.

He caught the snippets “whipping,” “took it too far,” and “furious.” Had Alana whipped him after she’d drained him? Maybe, but he felt no pain.

As he blinked open his eyes, Bjorn did his best to focus on his surroundings. A room. A bedroom. Perfunctory furnishings: a bed, a wardrobe filled with weapons, a dresser and a nightstand. No knickknacks, decorations or photos. His bedroom.

He maintained no friendships outside of his boys, no permanent or temporary lovers, so he had no need for photos. He pursued no hobbies, either. If he wasn’t hunting and slaying demons, he was running the club. If he wasn’t running the club, he was dealing with Alana. Nothing more, nothing less.

In the whole of his life, he’d loved only one woman. Leema the Loyal, who’d earned her moniker when she’d braved a hail of gunfire to save her family. A fellow Sent One with wings of solid white. A Messenger who traveled between the heavens and the mortal realms.

They’d met on assignment. The second-in-command before Clerici—Germanus—had ordered him to guard a human traveling overseas. Ten hours into the trip, Leema had shown up with new instructions from his boss. Leema’s beauty instantly captivated Bjorn, but her warmth and kindness sealed the deal.

They fell for each other fast and even moved in together. He’d b

een happy. Content. Then, the demon-torture happened.

Bjorn fisted the sheets and peeked into the darkest part of his past…

The demons had clawed at his robe, stripping him before they chained him inside a cell with Thane and Xerxes, who’d also been naked and chained. Every day, two of them were forced to watch as the third was beaten and worse. Bjorn, though…the demons were particularly obsessed with him. The things they did to his body…

Skin peeled off, inch by inch…

Organs cut out of my abdomen and eaten in front of me…

Eyes removed and hung from necklaces.

Limbs amputated, regrown, then amputated again…

Constant pain and degradation quickly dehumanized him. To survive mentally and emotionally, he’d had to build a stone wall around his heart.

Leema had been ill-prepared to meet the new Bjorn. A man unhappy, malcontent, intense, combative, explosive, violent, and utterly dependent on Thane and Xerxes. They understood his anguish in ways others could not. More than that, she’d fallen in love with another Messenger during Bjorn’s absence. But fearing the loss of her loyal designation, she’d stayed with Bjorn and continued to see her lover in secret.

Her reputation had mattered more than the male she’d professed to love and adore.

He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. Six months passed before he caught the two together—in his bed, with portraits of him and Leema hanging all around. To this day, Bjorn cringed when he recalled how he’d beaten the male so severely, he’d required Water of Life to survive.

Healers claimed his organs would have fared better in a blender.

As for Leema, Bjorn had tossed her out, destroyed her possessions and their cloud, then worked to change her designation to “the Disloyal.”

Kick me while I’m down, and I’ll retaliate on my way back up.

Since then, he’d avoided any kind of emotional tie with anyone but his boys. But the occasional one-night stand—before Alana’s arrival—had never satisfied him. Nothing had. He hadn’t experienced genuine satisfaction or desire since…