Slaves of Destiny Page 5

  Seraphina collapsed on the bed in an exhausted heap. He stared down at the curvy girl on the bed, still panting. Gently, he flipped her over, worried he’d hurt her. When he saw her grinning, blissed-out face, he laughed. “Was it good, for a human?”

  “It was good,” she said, closing her eyes. “Not just for a human.”

  Laid out like a goddess, she was beautiful and tempting, but he’d be too tired to get out of here tomorrow if he took her again. With a sigh, he knee-walked up the bed and pulled back the fur blanket. Following his lead, she crawled underneath and snuggled into him.

  With a contented sigh, she nuzzled her head against his chest. His arms fell around her and, though he felt helpless when it came to protecting her from the vile creatures in this plane, he couldn’t stop that nagging feeling that it was his job to shield her. Not only did he want to protect her from harm, he wanted to keep her too.

  He sighed. Now he knew he’d been in the Underworld too long. Keep a nymph? This was a mythological being created by the gods, not a basset hound. Yet, as he stroked his hand up and down her arm, listening to her steady breaths get slower and slower, the feeling only intensified.

  She was his.

  Chapter 11

  A shout echoed in the hallway. Bodhi shot up in the bed. Seraphina snored softly beside him, still wrapped in the fur blanket.

  Shit. They’d fallen asleep.

  The voices sounded closer. They were coming for her. He shook Sera’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

  Her eyelids lifted. “What’s wrong?”

  “We fell asleep.” He pulled the blanket down and grabbed her dress off the floor. “Quickly. Put this on.”

  More noise in the hallway. Her eyes widened.

  “It’s okay,” he said, not sure at all if that was true. “We have a plan.”

  Nodding, she pulled on her dress.

  “You have to hit me.” Already, he was preparing his meditation. His mind flipped through the fastest chants he knew. It would take a lot of concentration, but he could do it. “Right now. Hurry up.” He walked to the farthest side of the room, away from the door then leaned forward. “Hit me right here,” he said, pointing to his nose.

  “I’m scared.” Her lips trembled.

  They didn’t have time for reassurances. He placed a kiss on her pouty lips then grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “I’m not leaving you.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “Don’t think. Just do what I say. Hit me, hard. Right now.”

  A whimper escaped her as she furrowed her brow, but she nodded. He backed away, readying himself for the oncoming pain. Seraphina clenched her fist. Her face crumpled in agony.

  “Come on,” he urged. “Don’t make me punch myself.”

  She giggled half-heartedly and drew back. Her eyes squeezed shut. Great. She was going to miss and give him a black eye.

  “Open your eyes, silly!”

  She did then swung, hitting him square in the nose. It was harder than he’d expected. His eyes welled up and he felt blood trickle down.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, almost in tears.

  He nodded, letting the blood drip down his lips. “Good girl. You did good.”

  Footsteps thumped outside the door. His heart pounded. Fuck. “Get on the bed!”

  He lowered himself to the floor, positioning his body to look like he’d fallen over. Trying to ignore everything else around him, he focused on shutting his body down. He’d never had to meditate on cue before, much less on a deadline. Logically, this wouldn’t work. But there was too much at stake to let that stop him.

  His breath slowed first then his body relaxed. Distantly, he registered noise outside the door, but he kept his concentration on making his body go limp. His muscles melted into the floor. Bones fell away to dust. His heart beat softly, slowly, barely there at all. He was barely there.

  He was nothing. Just air.

  Minutes, hours, maybe days later, he became aware of himself. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to clear his groggy mind. His limbs were pins and needles. Stone ceiling, hard floor, rotten stench.

  Fuck.

  He flew to his feet and scanned the room. Seraphina was gone. How long had he been out? How much had he missed? The door was open. Forgoing all stealth, he ran for the hallway. Panic gripped his chest. If he was too late, he’d never be able to live with himself.

  Running blindly through the tunnels, he followed the hoots and hollers in the distance. He could only hope that noise was from the auction and that Seraphina was still alive.

  As he drew closer, he realized he was about to charge into a supernatural pit of hell empty-handed. He felt in his pants pocket then pulled out a small knife. It wasn’t as helpful as a sword or a gun – would that even work on these creatures? Maybe he should’ve grilled Sera about that. He ran faster, growing more worried the louder the shouting became.

  In the distance, the tunnel opened. Torches lit up an open space, casting an orange glow on the people in it. He slowed his pace, squinting up ahead. No, not people. He swallowed hard. Satyrs.

  They were human on top with naked chests they beat as they shouted. From the waist down was covered with thick fur except for their enormous cocks – which stuck straight out like big impatient swords – and their hooves, which pounded on the floor.

  Fuck, there were a lot of them. He stopped just outside the opening and hovered in the shadows against the wall.

  “Bring the nymph!” someone yelled. Others agreed by cheering and stomping their hooves, bringing up a cloud of dust. “The nymph!” they all shouted.

  Bodhi peeked around the corner. A platform the width of the room sat a few feet off the ground. There, in the center, stood Seraphina – pale and shaking, her face a mask of terror.

  With the nearly-sheer dress ripped up the side, and wearing a set of chains around her wrists that attached to her ankles, she resembled a virgin sacrifice about to be offered to a pit of demons. He looked around at the eager faces, the horns, the weapons, and realized how true it was.

  There was a line of other people in varying conditions, all with chains around their bodies, and all with signs of maltreatment. A slave auction? Were they all to be sold for sexual enjoyment? Eyeing the crowd again, he noticed it wasn’t just made up of satyrs. Other creatures, just as frightening, seemed eager to bid on the slaves.

  One of the satyrs in front of the platform reached out a hand and touched her calf. She squealed and stepped back, but a winged creature had her by the arm – the same man that had taken her from his camp. Before Bodhi knew what he was doing, his feet were leading him to the platform. Fist clenched around the knife, he charged the incubus.

  He managed to stab the thing in the throat by sheer surprise. The incubus started to fall over, but took Bodhi with him. He fell on top of the creature, wishing he’d had a step two for this plan.

  The incubus grabbed his bleeding neck then looked at Bodhi, who tried to scramble off. His eyes filled with rage and he kicked out, catching Bodhi in the ribs and sending him soaring through the air. He hit a wall hard then slumped to the ground. His ribs were on fire.

  “Bodhi!” Seraphina screamed.

  Stuck gasping for air on his belly, he looked up. The incubus was still grasping at his neck, but didn’t seem to be dying. In fact, he looked like he was gaining strength.

  Seraphina cried out, backing away from the crowd, which was getting out of control. The satyrs looked ready to storm the platform and take her, now that the overseer was out of commission.

  “Psst.”

  A whisper caught his attention. He looked to the left. A man stared down at him. Long shaggy hair, wearing only jeans and chains, he looked back and forth between Bodhi and Sera.

  “Give me the knife,” he said in what sounded like an Irish accent. “I’ll kill the incubus.”

  He realized he still held it gripped in his fist.

  “Come on,” he urged. “We don’t have
a lot of time. You want to save your lass, give me the knife.”

  Should he trust this guy? He appeared human, but on closer inspection, there was something slightly unnatural about him. His ears were the slightest bit pointed at the top, and did he have small fangs?

  Bodhi was in no condition to fight an Underworld demon. It hurt just trying to get up off the ground. Dust collected in his nose and he coughed. What choice did he have besides trusting his life to a stranger?

  Slowly, he slid the knife to the man. Without a word, the man used it to pick the lock on his chains then freed himself. He spared a glance at Bodhi before jumping off the platform into the crowd. Was he leaving?

  “Wait!” he yelled at the man’s back.

  His last bit of hope just sauntered away as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He wanted to run after him, to make him save her, but he couldn’t do more than worm his way toward the ledge a few feet away.

  The crowd surged forward, making Seraphina back away until she hit the wall and had no place else to go. If there was a god, now would be the time for it to intervene. From the corner of his eye, he saw another woman in chains pick up the knife from the ground then begin to pick her lock. She freed herself then passed it to the next person in line – another woman. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed all of the captives were woman, scantily clad, except for the man he’d freed moments ago.

  By sheer will, Bodhi army-crawled toward Seraphina. If they were going to die, they’d do it Shakespeare style. A disruption came from the crowd. He turned his head to see. A dark figure moved through the satyrs, dodging and ducking, weaving a path and leaving injured creatures behind him.

  Whispers started. “Aedan,” they said.

  Aedan? Boots appeared on the platform, just a yard or so away. He recognized them. The man he’d given his knife to. Only now he carried a sword.

  “You fucked with the wrong fae, Nazar,” he growled. “And you kept me from my mate.” He swung his sword at the smirking incubus.

  They fought, the crowd cheered, Seraphina inched away, Bodhi crawled toward her. He couldn’t tell who was winning. Blood spurted everywhere. Grunts and growls were drowned by the audience.

  The other captives, once freed, fled the arena without a backward glance.

  Bodhi lifted his head and watched the fight, growing transfixed by the way the mystery man moved. Graceful and lithe – like he was lighter than air. He didn’t look like a match for the towering, muscular incubus, but somehow, he managed to dodge his powerful fist and land strike after strike with the sword. He’d said he was fae. He did appear almost elf-like. A badass Irish elf.

  Finally, the winged creature fell heavily onto the ground. Aedan stood over the body, holding something at his side. Bodhi looked closer. The creature’s head.

  The crowd seemed pleased then one voice shouted above the others, “The nymph is ours!”

  “No!” he cried. But he was helpless as a group of satyrs rushed the platform, nearly trampling him, and grabbed Seraphina. She screamed as they tossed her into the crowd. They caught her then folded in on her. All he could see were flashes of white as her desperate cries got louder.

  Fuck. He wished he were better, stronger, something, but all he could do was lie there. She was gone. Or she would be soon. And he’d be there, only a few yards away, witnessing the whole thing.

  The man with the sword walked by, ignoring Bodhi.

  “Aedan!” he yelled, clinging onto one bit of hope. “Save her!”

  He stopped and looked at him then shook his head sadly. “Only you can do that.”

  Was he blind? Couldn’t he see Bodhi was human? And worse, he was broken, lying on the floor! Tears flowed down his cheeks. He’d lose the one thing that finally made him feel found.

  Aedan gestured to the headless corpse. “Drink his blood. Do it now before the magic fades away. You’ll…change, but it’s the only way to save your girl.” He jumped off the platform. “Now I’m off to get mine.”

  Drink his blood? The idea was repulsive. And it would change him? What did that even mean? Would he turn into a vampire or something?

  Hope. It was still there, just a few feet away. Disgusting and mysterious, but it was something. Aedan left and Bodhi made his way across the platform toward the dead incubus.

  Aedan’s instructions echoed in his mind. Drink. Change. Save your girl.

  The thought of it made him gag, but Seraphina’s screams grew dimmer.

  Save your girl.

  At the corpse, he hesitated a moment. Who knew what this would do to him? Was he really going to take this chance? Was he ready to change, whatever that meant?

  “Bodhi!” It was a helpless plea, weak and desperate. His throat closed up. She was fading.

  He put his lips to a puddle of red on the ground then sucked. It was every bit as vile as he’d expected and he fought not to spit it out. Salty and thick, it felt just wrong. But he sipped as much as he could then waited. What the hell did he expect to happen? Maybe spider webs to shoot from his wrists? Super strength?

  He tried to push up from the ground, but his limbs started to tingle. Then his muscles stopped working. His vision tunneled, his head felt dizzy and then Seraphina and her greedy assailants faded into the distance.

  A dark laugh sounded from above him. He looked up.

  William Shakespeare stood over him, smirking. “These violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die…”

  Chapter 12

  Seraphina kicked and fought, but satyrs were strong, especially when they wanted something as desperately as they wanted her. The pain wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, thank the gods. And she did thank the gods. And prayed to them, and begged them to let her live. She wanted to live, never more than now.

  It was the dirty feeling of having them touching her, groping her, so many and so eagerly that made her scream. That and fear.

  The fear that clogged her throat and made it hard to breathe. Fear kept her heart pounding even though her body grew numb. Claws tore at her clothing and ripped them to shreds then dug into her flesh as they fought over her. She couldn’t look down at her body. If she saw blood – and she knew there’d be blood – then she’d feel the pain.

  Her only bit of hope lay in Bodhi having escaped. She couldn’t see him over the bodies of her attackers. They feasted on her, using mouths and hands, but they fought too much amongst each other to have impaled her yet. In time though, they would.

  She’d be violated with no choice but to accept it. How long would they use her? How much could she take before it broke her?

  Her throat felt raw. By the gods’ grace, her vision started to fade. Was she dying so soon or just losing consciousness? Either one would be a relief.

  A deafening roar pulled her from blackness. It seemed to shake the whole mountain. Even the satyrs paused to take notice. She lifted her head and caught sight of the creature that had made that noise.

  It was Bodhi. Only not entirely him.

  His skin was darker. Or was that a trick of light? He looked taller too. His muscles, while defined before, bulged and stretched his skin. Yellow eyes stared at her, glowing with rage. Fists clenched and a set of black wings unfolded behind him.

  By the gods! He was incubi!

  She gasped and her fight against the satyrs renewed.

  “Mine,” he said, his voice so guttural it was barely audible. “Mine!”

  With that, he flew at the satyrs, knocking them out of the way one by one. He slashed his claws through their flesh. She fell to the ground when her assailants turned to fight back. But they were no match for an angry incubus.

  Ruthlessly, he sent the satyrs flying across the room. She scrambled back, but something grabbed her by the hair. All she could see was a giant penis in front of her face. The grip tightened then she was dragged away.

  “Bodhi!” She reached toward him, but the horde of satyrs closed in on him.

  He fought, twisting and clawing his way through. Blo
od spattered. Creatures howled then fell to the ground.

  Seraphina scratched at the hand in her hair, and tried to dig her heels into the ground, but the satyr kept walking. He pulled her out of the arena and into a hallway. She was losing sight of Bodhi.

  She made one last attempt to scream for him, but she could only rasp. Soon, the sounds from the arena faded away and all she could hear was the satyr panting as he pulled her, and his hooves clomping against the ground.

  Was it any improvement to be raped by one instead of many? And what about Bodhi? Could he escape? She was still reeling from seeing those wings unfold behind him. He’d drunk the overseer’s blood? Magic was part of him now, and would be forever. There’d be no going back to humanity. He was one of them – a supernatural. More guilt to add to the growing list. She’d destroyed his life, at the very least, if he survived.

  Steady pounding echoed in the corridor. A dark figure appeared in the distance, running toward them.

  Bodhi!

  The satyr quickened his pace, but Bodhi gained on them. Goat legs were no match for an incubus. Then he was upon them. Jaw clenched, fire in his eyes, he punched the satyr in the face and he finally let go of her hair. She jumped back against the wall as Bodhi pounded on the satyr until all that was left was a bloody, lifeless mess.

  Panting, Bodhi turned to her. Logically, she knew she had nothing to fear. He’d claimed her. He’d said “mine.” Incubi were terribly possessive when they’d decided on a mate.

  Plus, this was Bodhi. He was a sweet, gentle man. But as he stared down at her, heaving, spattered with blood, muscles twitching just under his blackened skin, she couldn’t stop a sliver of fear.

  She cowered against the wall. With a huff, he took a step toward her.

  “Bodhi?” she said meekly. “Are you all right?”

  He ducked down then hefted her over his shoulder. She gave a surprised yelp, but went limp. Inciting a fight with a still-angry incubus wouldn’t be smart. Right now, she was his war prize.

  A sudden thrill raced down her spine. War prize. There was something sexy about that. Wetness dampened between her thighs.