“Are you referring to the rumor started by me—I mean, someone other than me—claiming my body is a key to Nevaeh? Because it is.”
“Give me the key, goddess.” Crimson stated the words with enough fire to burn down an entire planet.
“Since you asked politely…no, thanks.”
He bared his fangs at her. “Give me. The key. Or you will suffer.”
“Oh, good gracious,” she said, simpering at him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were serious until just now. Sure, I’ll give you the key. I hid it in one of my fingers. Free the cuffs, and I’ll show you.”
He swung at her, his palm meeting her cheek for a second time. Her head whipped to the side with more force, her body jerking, pulling the shackles tight. The sharp sting set off a high-pitched ringing in her ears.
When she settled, she smiled at him. In a sing-song voice, she said, “You’re going to die screaming.”
“Enough!” Gangrene strode over and punched her with a balled fist. “Give us the key!”
This time, her brain butted up against her skull, searing agony radiating across her jaw. Dizziness swept in, and nausea surged as blood soaked her tongue. Did she back down? Not even a little. She spit at Gangrene, delighting as scarlet rained over his features.
He geared to strike her again, only to pause when electricity charged the air. A strange, wild wind blew in, snuffing out a torch with a soft pfft. Viola sat up straighter. Brochan?
First, excitement swept over her. Can’t stay away. Wants me too intently. All too soon, trepidation crept down her spine. What if she had maybe, possibly, perhaps…misread his feelings for her and the Fallen were right? What if Brochan despised her?
Not everyone was smart enough to realize her amazingness. If Brochan did hate her, he might attack the moment he learned the truth about that nonexistent key. A ludicrous idea, yes, but sometimes she must entertain even the most farfetched notions to discover a truth.
As Viola worked stealthily to unfasten the metal binding her wrists—yes! success!—she maintained a composed façade on the outside. “If Brochan plans to steal my key, as you suggest, he’ll do everything in his power to rescue me, yes? Even slaughter his kinsmen. Do you think he’s here now?”
Crimson ran a forked tongue over an incisor. A revealing tell. He feared Brochan greatly. “Go up. Ensure we remain alone,” he told Gangrene, who flashed seconds later, vanishing from view. Scowling at her, Crimson grated, “Want to keep your pretty face? Reveal where you’ve hidden the key.”
“Pretty face? I knew you desired me. Lust is practically seeping out of your pores.”
Growling now, he unsheathed a serrated blade. “I’ll start with your tongue. It’s coming out, one way or another.”
A strange noise quieted him—a heavy thud and roll. In unison, Viola and Crimson glanced to the side, watching as Gangrene’s head trundled into the cell—without his body.
Brochan was here.
She jolted, the urge to free her ankles and flash to the nearest safe house too strong to disregard. For Fluffy, she found the courage to resist. A good scheme always cost a bit of sanity. She’d put a plan into motion, and she would see it through.
Crimson leaped, flaring his wings and bracing to attack. Too late. Brochan materialized a few feet away, a seven-foot tower of pure strength, his claws long, sharp and already arching through the air. Her captor’s head flew to the ground, joining Gangrene’s. Blood spurted as the rest of him toppled.
Mouth drying, Viola peered up at the male who’d tracked her for so long. Such power. Sometimes, he struck her as monstrous. Other times, magnificent. Today, he was somehow both at once, and she kind of, sort of...liked it. Black horns had grown from his skull, curling backward with sharp tips pointing down. His forehead seemed more prominent than before. His cheeks and chin, too. Broad shoulders led to well-defined pecs and row after row of strength. Blue skin now possessed swirling designs that ran the length of his arms and over his hands. Claws grew from his fingertips and toes. And how cute was that?
She frowned. He had no right to showcase such smoldering sex appeal at a time like this. She had too much work to do, and distractions wouldn’t be tolerated.
Viola exhaled with determination. Must play this cool. “Um, Brochan? Hi. It’s me, the glorious object of your greatest obsession.”
Looking as if he’d just returned from a century-long bender of steroids, testosterone and undiluted evil, he shifted his blazing silver gaze to her and raised an arm, pointing.
“I’m Forsaken,” she said before he had a chance to speak. “Yes, I know. Be a dear and release me?” She batted her lashes, doing her best to appear distressed. “I’m so vulnerable…in such terrible danger, and I’m willing to bargain for my safety. I’ll trade anything. Surely, I have something you want? Your friends mentioned a key. I have so many. What do I care about parting with one?”
He remained in place, unmoving, not seeming to breathe. Deciding whether to kill her now or offer aid as he’d done in the past?
Either way, he died today. He was a danger to Fluffy—and to Viola.
“If you wish to aid me without receiving compensation, that’s fine, too,” she continued, playing her role to perfection. Meanwhile, she slid the metal bracelet from her wrist and gripped one end. She wouldn’t feel bad about Brochan’s demise. Not even a little. “Although, my happiness is probably the best compensation in town.”
He stared at her intently, as if determined to peer into her soul.
“Why have you aided me in the past, anyway?” she asked. Why not take advantage of this prime opportunity? “What do you plan to do with me?”
Minutes passed. He didn’t move a muscle. Finally, he spoke. “You’ll know what I decide to do with you as soon as I do.”
The most words he’d ever uttered to her. And in such a guttural voice. Wow! The tones and nuances washed over her, drawing white-hot goose bumps to the surface of her skin. Then he stomped over…
My plan is working? Of course, my plan is working. I’m brilliant!
The beginnings of her grin peeked out when Brochan leaned down to undo her manacles. Without hesitation, she swung her arm. Target? His throat. With her movement, the bracelet unfolded section by section, locking into a long, thin sword. Whoosh.
Like Gangrene and Crimson before him, Brochan lost his head. Shock etched into every feature. His body crashed to the floor.
“Sorry, but I went ahead and decided what you’ll do to and with me,” she told his bleeding corpse as she liberated her ankles. “You’ll be doing nothing. Enjoy.”
Unfettered at last, she stood. Swiping her hands together in a job well done, she stepped over each Fallen One and strolled away without looking back. Now, to finally see to her darling.
Chapter Two
Brochan opened his eyes amid a chorus of cursing, courtesy of the other two Forsaken who’d lost their heads this day. Reality crystalized. Killed again. By her hand. This was his fourth death, each one caused by the goddess in some way. Not that she knew it. This was the first time she’d overseen the deed personally, using a breathy plea and a razor-sharp blade he hadn’t seen coming.