Larissa Ione - Desire Unchained

He gritted his teeth against the pain wrenching through his shoulder and hip. One of the imps clamped a metal collar around his neck while the other installed leg irons. His curses echoed off the damp walls, but through them, he heard Runa pleading with the Nightlash to leave him alone. Surprised, Shade slid her a glance as the imps lowered him to the floor.

Rage glittered in her eyes, and maybe she didn’t hate him as much as she’d said. Then again, maybe she wanted the Keepers to leave him alone so she could kill him herself.

“Where are you taking me?” Shade thrashed against his bonds, which earned him a strike to the back of the head by the imp with the cudgel.

The Nightlash didn’t answer, merely curled his lips in a nasty smile and wrapped the chain connected to the collar around his fist, yanking Shade to his feet. The imps wrenched his arms behind his back and slapped restraints on his wrists.

They dragged him toward the door. When he struggled at the threshold, a caning to his hamstrings dropped him to his knees. A cool breeze caressed the back of his legs—the cane had torn through his pants. His flesh would be next.

Behind him, Runa spat curses and threats that were as creative as they were ineffective. He couldn’t imagine the Runa he’d bedded saying those things, not the shy creature she’d been. Seemed the little human truly had grown claws and teeth.

Freakin’ sexy.

Or it would have been if he weren’t being dragged toward one of three whipping posts. Sure, Shade could appreciate a good whipping as much as the next guy, but he had a sneaky suspicion that he wasn’t in for a good time. Still, better the post than the water wheel, the rack in the corner, or the meat hooks hanging from the ceiling. And those were the tamer pieces of the torture equipment that littered the cavernous space.

At the rear of the dungeon, an arched opening into a smaller chamber revealed a sight that sent blades of ice right into his spine. Medical equipment filled the room—cutting tools, an autopsy table, a bone saw, and a chest spreader. Fresh and dried blood stained the floor.

Gods, this was beyond sick.

The demons strung him up, facing outward, his hands stretched tight apart and above him, his legs forced wide by a spreader bar and fastened at the ankles. The female imp stroked his thigh, working her way up, and he quickly started working on a plan to seduce her into letting him go … until the Nightlash cuffed her in the head. Still, the fact that some of the Keepers were female was something to keep in mind.

“Where is the Umber female?” he asked.

“Cooperate, and you’ll see her.”

Shade hadn’t expected an answer, so the deep, gravelly voice shocked him. He thought he detected a touch of an accent … Irish maybe, but he couldn’t be sure. A hulking figure veiled in black robes stepped out of the shadows, its chuckle as cold as the air.

“And what do I have to do to cooperate?”

“Suffer.”

An icy tremor crawled across the surface of Shade’s skin. “Maybe you could be a little more specific.”

Motion flashed in his peripheral vision. Something struck him in the chest, and blood splattered on the wood post next to him. The Nightlash stood there holding a thorny flail, looking all proud of himself.

“Was that specific enough?”

“Worked for me,” Shade said glibly, though he did so through gritted teeth. “It’d be more effective if you removed my shirt, though.”

“And everyone says Wraith is the smartass of the family.”

Shade’s mind screamed. How did this sonofabitch know about Wraith?

“That’s a common misconception. Dickhead.”

The insult earned him more specific suffering. Blood ran freely down his chest through the shredded remains of his medic shirt. His only consolation was the knowledge that because they were busy torturing him, they were leaving Runa alone.

“Remove his clothes,” the dickhead said, “and fetch the fluffer.”

Fluffer? One of the imps skittered away while the Nightlash cut away Shade’s uniform and stripped him of his boots.

“You know, it’s not fair that I have to be naked and you’re hiding in that drama-queen robe.”

Robe Man moved forward, just a little, but enough for Shade to feel the male’s vibe on his skin. It was familiar, like a scent that brought back a memory but couldn’t quite be placed. The vibe felt diluted, or maybe masked. A spell, perhaps, had been used to cover it up. But why? So he wouldn’t be recognized?

“You’re close to s’genesis, ” Robe Man said. “The Change. I can sense it. Are you ready? Or do you plan to fight it, like Eidolon did?”

Hell, no, he wasn’t going to drag out the final maturation process, the one that would allow him to shapeshift and impregnate females, among other, less pleasant things. But how did this asshole know what E had done to try to stave off The Change?

“If you’re trying to get me to ask how you know about my brothers and about my species, it won’t work, asshole. You got something to say, fucking say it already.”

“Not yet.” Robe Man circled him, his face hidden in his cowl, but the way he moved … again, very familiar. He stopped behind Shade, and then the tickle of a finger trailed down his spine. Shade fought the urge to shudder. “So? Are you going to fight it? Or take a mate? Oh, that’s right, you can’t take a bond-mate because you might fall in love and consummate your curse.” Hot fetid breath heated Shade’s ear as the creature leaned close. “Youthful indiscretions always come back to bite you in the ass, don’t they?”

The son of a bitch knew about the Maluncoeur , a curse that promised if he fell in love, he’d slowly fade away until he became invisible to everyone. He’d live forever, wracked with stabbing hunger pangs, debilitating thirst, and unbearable sexual desire for all eternity.

Shade closed his eyes and tried to figure out who could know such intimate details about his life. The list was short, and those on it wouldn’t talk.

Unless they’d been tortured.

Skulk.

“Again,” Robe Man said. “Inner thigh.”

Shade barely had time to brace himself before the Nightlash’s flail ripped into his flesh.

Robe Man laughed. “Doesn’t this seem a bit like karma, given how many females you’ve strung up like this?”

Shade didn’t bother to argue that this was different, because sometimes the line between pleasure and pain blurred far too much for Shade’s comfort.

“More.”

The flail bit into Shade’s other thigh. Sweat popped out on his forehead, his vision dimmed, and damn , that hurt. How could E stand going through this once a month when he paid for Wraith’s sins?

“You’re wondering how Eidolon deals with this every time Wraith goes over his limit of human kills.”

Shade’s head snapped up and around, but Robe Man had retreated to the shadows. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit,” he roared. “Who the hell are you?”

A sinister cackle echoed through the dungeon. “I’m the demon who is going to make you beg for death. Starting now.”

“Hello, Shade.” The female voice Shade knew well brought his gaze back front and center.

“Solice?” He stared at the brunette vampire nurse who had been working at UG for years, and suddenly everything made sense. Skulk hadn’t talked—Solice had. “You bitch.”

Her sultry smile revealed long fangs as she leaned in and licked up his chest in a warm, wet lash. Her raspy tongue caught on shredded flesh. Pain streaked through him, but he’d suffered worse while playing with some of his rougher bedmates.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long,” she murmured against his nipple. “But you never so much as looked at me.”