Untouched (Denazen #1.5)(15)

I kicked the grate out and jumped to the ground. “Enough.”

Everyone but Samsen looked surprised. Dez simply smiled and blew me a kiss. She knew I wouldn’t have gone far. Samsen, however, looked downright ecstatic.

“Lookie lookie, who gets a cookie?” Waggling a finger at me, he grinned and said, “I knew you wouldn’t leave your girl.”

“Of course not.” I trained my eyes on his neck and sucked in a quick breath.

The Master’s Chamber was made up to resemble a dilapidated bedroom with vaulted ceilings. Gossamer strands of wispy material clung to the walls, covered in part by real cobwebs and dust. In the corner, a pale statue of a woman wearing a thin white gown was bent over the edge of a bed, apparently weeping, while a man stood behind her about to swing a massive ax covered in what appeared to be blood.

Across the room, a few feet from the door, there was a large platform. The Statue Man stood, looking down on the room from high up. His expression was almost sad.



Samsen bored easily. I needed to move before he got tired of the games. “You know we’re not leaving with you.”

Samsen spread his arms and stepped closer. “I know you believe that.” Turning, he waved at the older agent, who dragged Dez over with him. “Let’s make things interesting. What should I tell her to do? I know I said you were more fun, but I think having you watch would be even better.”

“Samsen,” I growled. “Don’t do it.”

I shouldn’t have responded. It was what he wanted. To see the torment on my face.

“I will kill you,” I promised.

He continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “Do you remember Mesher? That guy with the super brain? Had him bludgeon himself to death off the kitchen wall. Made one hell of a mess.” He paused, body turning toward Dez. “She’s too pretty for that, though. Don’tcha think?”

I took another step forward. The angry knot in my chest turned icy. Samsen was not only sick, but he was imaginative. I’d seen it firsthand. The possibilities rushing through my mind were enough to freeze the blood in my veins.

“Oh, I know! How about we have her do a striptease?” He turned to the agents. “What do you think, boys? Could be fun?”

Two of the three remained silent—the older one and the one wearing the safe suit—their faces drawn in fear. The youngest, Rob, grinned and nodded greedily, eyes roaming up and down the length of Dez’s body.

I’d kill him first.

Finally, Samsen turned back to me, smiling. Something sick twisted inside me. Something far worse than the knot in my chest. This was heavy, dragging my insides down with something I hadn’t felt in a while. True fear.

“No. Too easy. I’ve got something better in mind.” He laughed as he lunged for me.



I avoided him by stepping sideways. Samsen was a monster, but he wasn’t a fighter. He’d always relied on others to be the muscle behind his madness. As I expected, the agents came forward to fight as Samsen grabbed Dez and dragged her out of the line of fire. He’d been telling Dez the truth. This was never about Denazen business.

This was personal.

The agent with the safe suit came at me full speed. I didn’t know what to expect from him. Up until now, he’d been silent, keeping to the edge and staying uninvolved. Agile, he punched out hard, fist catching the corner of my shoulder, the blow rocking me back. I swung at his face, but he dodged it, expression morphing from cautious to cocky.

While he was distracted by the small victory, I dropped to the ground and swept his knees. He went down hard with a surprised cry, and I jumped forward. One good pull and the material of his suit ripped. I ran the tip of my finger along his jaw—and he was gone.

The second agent, the oldest of the three, approached me with hesitation. It was the single most foolish thing he could have done. If nothing else, I was a predator—and predators could sense fear. Use it against you. He swung out halfheartedly as I brought my left elbow down across the corner of his jaw. On impact, something flew from his mouth—a tooth—and he stared after it in horror.

“Leave,” I said, standing above him. He hadn’t harmed Dez. There was no reason to kill him.

With a single nod and a quick glance over his shoulder at Samsen, he was out the door without a moment’s hesitation. If only the other agent had done the same…

Samsen was still in the corner with Dez, watching the room with anticipation. Just one more agent to deal with and Samsen was mine.



I turned back to the center of the room where Rob was cracking his knuckles. That sound again. I hated that sound. “I’m not like the rest, freak.”

“Are you sure?” I said, folding my arms.

He grinned. “So you’re saying you’re going to kick my ass?”

I smiled. This would make Dez happy. She was always telling me I was too literal, but sometimes it was funny. “That won’t be necessary. As soon as I touch you, you won’t have an ass left to kick.”

He came at me without another word, swinging two sticks connected by a chain of some sort that he pulled from the inside of his jacket. There was a name for them—I just couldn’t remember what it was.

The first strike breezed dangerously close. I jerked to the left as he swung again and felt the sting as the metal grazed my cheek. I ducked the third swing, pivoting and punching out with my right hand. Rob dodged the blow, regrouped, and hopped back, all while swinging the sticks in a showmanship fashion. I had to admire the poetry of it. He was skilled with his weapon and artful in its wielding. It would be a shame to end him. But then the memory of his eyes on Dez, hungry and wicked, flooded my mind.