Blood Judgment (Judgment Series) (40 page)

“Far as I can tell.”

Cold eddied though Julian. Now what? Throw him out? Or something worse? And Saranna? He looked at her and wanted to beg her forgiveness. Instead, he remained quiet and awaited their condemnation.

“Well,” Ashton finally said. “I’m not the one who needs to forgive or condemn you. I’m not the one you wronged.” He shoved his hair back. “You had no idea you were anything other than human. I realize this.”

Julian forced himself to maintain eye contact with Ashton. Whatever they did to him, he deserved it. “I—”

“No. Julian. Let me finish,” Ashton said. “You will take whatever punishment Michael Foster’s father wishes to dispense. If he requires your execution, I will not stand in his way. I hope that isn’t the case, but he has every right to demand your life to pay for his son’s.”

Ice settled in Julian’s veins. “I understand.” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice from shaking.

“Ashton, no,” Saranna said and went to Julian’s side. You can’t allow that.”

“I’m sorry, Saranna, but he has the right to demand retribution. I don’t like it either, but, if I shelter Julian, it sends out a message that I’m not fair and play favorites. I can’t have that.”

Julian slipped his arm around his mate. “I brought this on myself. I can’t ask for mercy because I had none for his son. I’ll take whatever punishment he decides on.”

“Michael Foster’s father will be here in a few hours,” Slade said and smirked.

Ashton rubbed his temple. “I suggest you spend the remaining time with your mate.”

SARANNA TRIED to stop the trickle of tears as she lay tucked in Julian’s arms. Despite her resolve to keep him from her bed, she had allowed him to lay with her. How could she deny him when he might be sent to his death within hours? Not that he’d done much of anything other than kissing her and using his hand on her.

He was unable to mate, his injuries were much too severe to even consider trying, but at least he was with her.

He kissed her cheek and drew her closer, maybe for the last time.

THE NEARER the appointed time of the elder Foster’s arrival, the more Julian’s stomach churned. Reluctantly, he left Saranna’s arms and the warmth of the bed. It was time to meet his fate and he had a pretty good idea what that would be.

He went back to the bed and kissed her soft lips. The scent of her tears, as well as her emotions, was sharp and bitter. Neither of them spoke.

Sick to his stomach, he steeled himself and left the bedroom. He couldn’t bear to look back at her. Her quiet sobs stabbed his heart as effectively as if she’d used a dagger.

By the time he reached the bottom of the steps, Michael Foster’s father stood in the great room with the platinum-blond twins who had taken part in Julian’s alleyway induction into vampirism.

Ashton stood with them.

The male who had accosted him at Benaroya Hall months ago looked unflinchingly at Julian. The big male no longer looked anything like a bum and Julian supposed he never had been. It had all been a ruse, every bit of it.

Light steps raced down the stairs and Julian’s heart sank. He’d asked her to remain upstairs until it was over and she had agreed. He didn’t want her to see them taking him away to his execution. And with the presence of the two additional males, he knew that’s what they planned to do.

His heart beat hard. He hoped to God none of them could hear it. He would like to at least appear unafraid.

The big male’s eyes widened as Saranna stopped at Julian’s side and clutched his arm. The male’s nostrils flared the tiniest bit. “Is she your mate?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He looked at the twins then back at Julian. “My nephew talked me into spearing your life on the assumption you wouldn’t live well or long after you were turned.” He eyed Saranna again. “You were not supposed to survive.” A shadow of hatred crossed his face. “I came here to take you and kill you. I’m sure you know that.”

Saranna sobbed and her legs let go. Julian caught her and lifted her in his arms. The strain of holding her hurt like a son of a bitch but he didn’t care.

“I’ll take her,” Ashton said and stepped forward.

Julian released her even as he tried to trap her scent and feel in every fiber of his being.

“Julian, no,” she cried.

“Ssh,” Ashton said and carried her out of the great room.

Julian couldn’t stand it. He had to get out of there. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“I didn’t know you’d taken a female. One who clearly loves you.” He looked pensive. He swung around to the two males who accompanied him. “The female is going to need him to care for her. I didn’t come here to ruin the lives of innocents.”

“What?” One of the males said. “You aren’t gonna let him off the hook over his female, are you?”

The other twin looked three shades of indignant. “He can’t get away with Michael’s death.”

“I have no intention of letting him off the hook. But I never counted on him having a mate, much less—”

“Kill him. She can find another,” the first blond snarled.

“No. One family destroyed is enough.”

The two young males’ angry responses were too low for Julian to hear.

“I didn’t expect this,” the old male snapped. “Now shut the hell up.”

“You will come with us, and you will be punished. After that, you can get on with your life.”

“Punished?”

“I’m sparing you, for her. So when you can, you should show her how grateful you are. Take him,” he said to the twins.

The two blond males moved fast, securing his arms and holding him between them.

“Does this have to be tonight?” Ashton said. “He’s still recovering from being stabbed in the guts.”

“Yes, it has to be tonight. I want an end to this. But you have my word; we’ll do nothing to harm his existing wounds. But I will send him home needing a doctor. I promise you that.”

“Come on.” One of the twins shoved Julian toward the door.

Saranna sobbed.

Julian stumbled forward, his mind whirling. He was going to be spared, but not without a price. He had no right to complain. At least he was going to be allowed to live. Whatever they doled out, he could take it.

They hustled him down the walk to a car waiting at the curb. Snake Tat, the other bastard who’d attacked him in the alley, swiveled his head and gave Julian an evil stare.

One twin climbed in the back and the other shoved Julian in beside him. The second twin sat on Julian’s other side. “So now what, Uncle Lag?”

“Take us to Shred’s place.”

“Shred. Holy fuck. Are you sure.”

“Yes. He has what I need since I can’t kill this bastard.”

“Why the hell not?” Snake Tat asked. “I thought that’s what we came for.”

“We did. I didn’t count on him having a mate.”

“So the fuck what,” Snake Tat said.

“I will not hurt the female or cause her additional hardship. She’s going to need him. ‘Nuff said.”

The younger males grumbled, but didn’t pursue it.

In the backseat, Julian’s insides quivered. What were they going to do to him? He did his best to man-up. He deserved to be punished and, no matter what they did, he wouldn’t beg for mercy. He didn’t deserve any.

Ten minutes later, Snake Tat parked behind a decrepit two-story building in a seedy section of town. They prodded Julian from the backseat.

The shrieks of children playing somewhere close seemed out of place amid the decaying buildings and garbage strewn street.

“Keep him here,” Foster said. “I need to talk to Shred first.” He disappeared around the corner of the building leaving Julian alone with the three hostile males.

“I hope he fucks your ass up six ways to sundown,” Snake Tat said.

Julian didn’t reply, but he had a pretty good idea that Snake Tat didn’t have anything to worry about. Heart hammering his ribs, he waited for Foster to return.

Minutes later, Foster stuck his head out a back door. “Bring him through here.”

One of the twins shoved Julian forward. Stomach clenched, he went through the battered doorway into a dimly lit hallway that stank of aged filth.

He followed Foster through another door and down a rickety set of steps into a damp, musty basement. A large bed covered with a scarlet comforter sat in the middle. Furry rugs dotted the concrete floor and the walls were decorated with a variety of perverted accessories. Shackles, harnesses, chains, leather gadgets he couldn’t identify. Shred was into some hardcore entertainment.

And how the hell did that apply to him?

“Dayum,” Snake Tat said. “I
knew
Shred was a freakin’ perv.”

“None of our biz,” Foster said. “I just need to borrow a couple of things.”

He looked Julian square in the eyes. “Are you going to be a male about this or are you going to make us fight you?”

“What do you mean?” Julian’s insides knotted.

“I want you to go over to the wall and let us chain you.”

“Why?” His voice came out steady though he wasn’t sure how.

“I’m going to whip you. One hundred lashes.”

Oh, fuck
. He wouldn’t be able to stand it. Somehow, he made his feet move and he walked to where Foster guided him.

“Take off your shirt and cozy up to the wall,” Foster said.

With shaking hands, he undid the buttons and took off his shirt. He let it drop to the floor.

“Looks like someone else doesn’t like him,” Snake Tat said.

Julian had hundreds of tiny stitches in his stomach from the knife wounds and the surgery to repair it. His hand brushed over the sewn-together damage.

“And you’re surprised by this?” Foster said.

The three young males laughed.

“Against the wall,” Foster said.

Julian tried not to shake as he allowed them to snap heavy shackles on him. His broken wrist protested with a burst of pain. The chains clanked against the cinderblocks as he leaned against the cold, rough blocks for support.

Dear God, how was he going to stand it? He had to urinate. What if he lost control and pissed himself? Somehow that seemed worse than being whipped.

He heard them move back and he braced himself. His fingers dug at the unyielding block. Something hit the floor and he knew it was the whip being uncoiled. A second later, he heard the snap of leather being drawn back and then the lash landed on his bare back, leaving a burning swath on his flesh.

He sucked in his breath and held it, waiting for the next strike. The lashes came fast and by the time he’d counted off ten, he was cringing against the wall and his back was on fire. The wet trickle of blood told him the bite of the whip wasn’t just superficial.

He groaned with each cut of the leather, but he didn’t cry out or, worse, beg for mercy. He wouldn’t do that. Not even if it meant they would beat him to death. And he was starting to think they might.

He pressed his cheek into the cool block and tried to focus on something else, anything but the pain in his quivering back. Each blow was now agony.

His legs trembled and sometime after the fortieth lash, they gave out and he hung at the end of the chains. His broken wrist added to the misery.

The leather landed on skin already cut open and bleeding. What his father had done to him was nothing compared to this. If Foster wanted revenge, he was getting it.

His consciousness wavered and he moaned. A part of him didn’t want to blackout, despite the agony in his back. He was now pretty sure Foster was going to whip him to death and if he lost consciousness, he might never awaken.

But he could only fight the pain for so long until it became unbearable.

WHEN JULIAN came to, he was lying face down on the cracked sidewalk behind the building they had taken him into. His shirt had been thrown on top of him like a discarded piece of trash.

He tried to move. His back was white-hot agony. Didn’t matter. He had to get up. He didn’t have his phone. He’d been in such a fog that he hadn’t even thought of grabbing it or his wallet. His pockets didn’t yield as much as a dime. He had no way to get help. He had to walk home.

He looked at his watch and the simple motion of lifting his arm sent pain shooting through his back and shoulders. That didn’t matter either. He had maybe an hour and a half to get home and he wasn’t sure where they’d taken him. He’d been so freaked out that he hadn’t paid attention to where they were going.

He forced himself to move.

BY THE time Julian made it home, he was barely aware of what he was doing. He managed to unlock the door and fell through, landing face down on the floor.

He didn’t care. He’d made it to safety.

Footsteps hurried toward him and, a moment later, Saranna knelt at his side.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “Look what they did to him.”

“It’s too late to get him to Jason,” Ashton said. “We need to take him to his room. He’s done in.”

Julian tried to offer his friends a word of thanks, but nothing came out.

WHEN JULIAN awoke, he lay on his stomach and his back was a dozen shades of agony. But he was thankful his life had been spared. He tried to get up, but the pain made it impossible.

Someone had dressed his wounds, which was probably a good thing considering he’d been whipped until his back could have passed for raw hamburger.

Despite the pain, he felt a measure of relief. Michael Foster’s death had eaten at him ever since it had happened. No longer a secret, and punishment meted out, maybe he could also find closure and put it behind him. Maybe he could get over it now. At least, he sure as hell hoped he could.

Outside in the hallway, light footsteps stopped at his door. “Come in,” he called, knowing it was Saranna.

She came inside and closed the door. Her lovely face was marred by lack of sleep and worry. Shame bit him. He had caused her nothing but pain. He deserved the whipping for what he’d done to her alone.

She came to the bedside and knelt. “How is it?”

He didn’t lie. “Hurts pretty bad, but I’ll heal.”

“I was so scared.” She brushed his hair back from his face and he tried to press his cheek into her palm.

“I deserved it.”