Submitting to the Shadow (Kindred Tales)

“Baked?” Roark demanded, shaking him again.

“You know—stoned, man! I mean, I’m really scared of you—you’re a big, scary dude and all—but I can’t help it, I got no sense of direction when I’m high.” He shrugged again, as though it was no big deal that he’d delivered Samantha to her stalker and now he couldn’t find the way back to where he’d left her.

Roark dropped him abruptly in disgust and the human male collapsed in a heap on the floor, moaning. Roark shook his head. What in the Seven Hells was he going to do? How was he supposed to find Samantha now?

She could be anywhere in a hundred-mile radius from here, he thought in despair. I can’t call her on a think-me because she’s somewhere that’s blocking the reception. And even if I could, I doubt she’d be able to tell me where she is. She was asleep when Meg called her the first time, which means she probably has no idea where she was taken.

So how was he ever going to find her?

Suddenly a warm feminine presence filled the small, dingy apartment and a delicious, fresh scent swept away the skunky, bitter odor of the drug the human male had been smoking.

“You must allow your bond to guide you, Warrior,” a commanding feminine voice said.

The male who had kidnapped Samantha looked up, his eyes wide with awe.

“Whoa,” he muttered. “Did you hear that? It’s like God, but if God was a lady, ya know?”

“Shut up,” Roark growled, though he was hardly less shocked than the human. All his life he had assumed the Goddess was nothing but a religious construct that other warriors used to make their lives seem meaningful in some way. He had pitied them their ignorance, labeling their religion as blind superstition. But now…well, he didn’t know what to think. He might have thought he was imagining it if the human male had not so obviously heard the Goddess’s voice too.

“Goddess?” he asked tentatively, just to be sure.

“Yes, Warrior?” She sounded faintly amused. “You did not believe in me until now, so I will give you a moment to gather your wits,” she went on. “But do not take too much time—your female is in grave danger and you must go to her side and protect her.”

“Yes, yes!” Roark exclaimed. “That’s exactly what I want, Goddess! But I don’t know how to find her!”

“I told you, Warrior, you must use your bond. You created a partial bond with her when you gave her your seed.” She sounded stern as she said it, clearly she disapproved of the way Roark had given his seed surreptitiously. “I will strengthen it temporarily so that you may use it as a kind of homing device to find her.”

“I thank you, Goddess,” Roark said numbly, still feeling stunned.

“Go now!” she ordered him. “Soon it will be too late.”

Roark shook off the shocked paralysis that had gripped him and ran for the door. There would be time later to think about how his disbelief had been proved wrong and his entire worldview had changed in an instant. Right now he had to concentrate on getting to Samantha in time to save her.

He just prayed he would get to her in time.

Fifty

Sammi had looked everywhere, but she couldn’t find anything that could be used as a weapon. The basement apartment was bare.

It’s probably because he knows better than to leave anything lying around that can be used against him, whispered a dire little voice in her head.

Sammi remembered what he had said about his “other dates” and shivered. He had also talked about the expense of setting up a “hideout for dates” which led her to believe that her captor—Sonny-boy—had done this before—possibly many times. Clearly he was a pro at abducting women.

The question was, what did he do to them after he abducted them?

Sammi didn’t want to think about that. Possibly he planned to rape her and then let her go. But if that was the case, then why would he snip off a lock of her hair to keep?

That was a trophy, Sammi, whispered the dire little voice in her head. So he can re-live his time with you over and over after you’re dead and buried in the woods under a rotten log somewhere. You have to get out of here!

Yes, but how?

After searching the small apartment desperately one last time for any kind of weapon or any means of escape and trying the door—very quietly—once more, Sammi admitted to herself that she was stuck—at least for now.

She had no choice but to put on the clothes he had left her and get ready for the “date.” Otherwise Sonny-boy might get angry and she had the idea that in order to stay alive, she needed to keep her captor in a good mood for as long as possible.