Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(10)



Shit, shit, shit. Fydor’s men were on the way to confirm the execution had been carried out. He had to get out of there. Panic and fear were not part of his composition, yet both took a strangle hold on him as he tried to formulate a plan. They’d never felt the need to confirm his kills before. Why now? And how did they know where he was?

Human still over his shoulder, he paced a small circle. In all honesty, it was a stupid idea to bring her here. Of course Fydor would figure it out. They kept tabs on all of their enemies. Fortunately, since none of them had been here before—at least he hoped they hadn’t—they could not just teleport in unannounced. They’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.

He shifted her higher on his shoulder, and her open-backed hospital gown gapped even further, exposing her entire ass. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to clear the image from his mind. Maybe he should just return to the fortress with the girl and wait there to kill her. Fydor could even do it himself that way. Something in Nikolai screamed in protest at that idea. Something wasn’t right about this whole thing. His instincts had always been flawless. That’s why he was a superior Slayer. Until he figured this out, he had to keep the girl alive.

And then it happened. The worst possible thing ever. As if confirming his decision to cut and run, a fragment of his traitorous soul traveled down the cord and entwined with hers in a brilliant display of blue and silver sparks.

He shouted his anguish to the empty house in what came out as a primal roar. His soul had confirmed what his body had screamed but his mind had denied from the moment he laid eyes on her: this harmless, weak, pathetic human was his. His true mate—and the fact his soul had crept down the cord to meet hers meant that if the cord were broken, not only would the girl die, he would as well. He’d been ensnared in his own trap.





Chapter Four


A horrible, animalistic growl jerked Elena from oblivion. Her head throbbed, probably from the double-whammy of her low blood sugar coupled with the fact she was being toted caveman-style over the death angel’s shoulder.

From this angle, she could see that she was still in her kitchen and that Nikolai had a truly fine ass. Wait. What an absolutely absurd thought. He growled again. Something had upset him. Oh God. She had passed out. What if Aunt Uza had come back?

“Put me down,” she said.

The pacing stopped so abruptly her chin slammed into his lower back. He stooped and placed her feet on the floor. It was then she remembered she was bare-ass naked for the most part. She pulled the gown closed behind her as he steadied her by the shoulders.

“We have to leave,” he said.

“Nope. Not happening. Kill me here, or not at all. I’ve had enough.”

He jerked the cord, causing her to tumble forward into him. Heat rolled off his chest into her palms, and she resisted the urge to run her hands over the smooth leather of his vest. Wrong, Arcos. Wrong in every way imaginable.

“Listen to me and listen well. You will do two things in the next three minutes. You will drink enough orange juice to make you stable, and then you will find something you can wear in public and not be noticed.” He punctuated his order with another sharp yank on the cord.

Public. That sounded promising. Surely he wouldn’t kill her in public. Still, she wasn’t ready to go so easily. Perhaps he had realized she was not a vampire or whatever it was he thought her to be. Maybe he would let her go.

“Why should I cooperate? What’s in it for me?”

He took a step away and leaned down to where his face was level with hers. “I’ll put it to you this way. I’ll tell you what’s in it if you do not cooperate: torture. Horrible, painful torture at the hands of six or so of my kind coming to insure I carried out my orders.” He ran his forefinger in a line from her throat, between her breasts all the way to her navel, then back up in a path that almost made her faint again. “And after they’ve all had you, and broken you, you will understand why you should have cooperated with me. Believe me when I tell you I’m the lesser of the evils.”

Stubborn? Yes. Stupid? Hell, no. She picked up the carton of OJ and took a guzzle, then another, and another, until she couldn’t hold any more.

“Let’s go,” she said, heading toward the kitchen door. When the cord pulled taut, she gave it a jerk to get him to follow, which he did, all the way to her bedroom. “What kind of clothes? Where are we going?” She stopped short when she saw the suitcase on the bed. She popped the latches and found it packed with everything from a Parka to red lace lingerie.

The death angel snorted. “Sorry to alter your previous vacation plans.”

“What? No. I didn’t do this.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Perhaps one of your lovers packed for you. An unexpected trip, maybe?”

She stared at the suitcase full of enough clothes to last a week in any climate. There was also cash. Lots of it. What was going on? The only one with a key to her place was Uza, and she was usually too out of it to even organize for a trip to the grocery store.

He slammed the suitcase closed and snapped the latches. “You’ll just have to disappoint him. Now find something to cover yourself.” He pulled her to the closet by the cord.

She held up her wrist. “This is going to make it tricky.”

“There’s nothing I can do about that. You are a clever girl. Figure something out.” He pulled out his phone and checked the time. “Now.”

Marissa Clarke's Books