Dark Paradise (14 page)

She quaked beneath the killing coldness in his eyes, barely able to draw a decent breath. She called for her rage, but it had deserted her and refused to return. “Don’t!”

He ignored her plea. His smile evaporated as though it had never been. “Saint, Satan.
To me
!” He had absolutely no doubt in his voice. He held his hands up, waiting.

But she couldn’t release them. Their vibrations had become so strong her entire body shook with them, but she could not have opened her fingers to release them had she wanted to.

And part of her wanted to, wanted to badly. “Please,” she whispered. “I can’t.” She wasn’t even hurt by their seeming eagerness to leave her.

She held the knives of the most powerful man on Ripindal. But they belonged to her now. She shook her head, knowing her face was white and her fear showed in her eyes, but determined to have courage. She’d never been a coward. “They are mine.”

“You will die for this.”

She had little doubt. “I’ll take you with me.”

His men awaited his command, and the knives awaited hers. Or so she hoped. She might release them only to find they still obeyed their former master. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to test them until she found she had no other choice.

The ill miners were silent. For all she knew they might have slipped off into the forest, hoping the housekeepers would forget about them. They were the least of her worries.

Danix lowered his hands. “I will give you one more chance to send me my blades, beauty. If you do, I will let you live as my slave. If you do not, I will simply kill you and take them.” His voice was almost kindly, and that just made it scarier.

His men were silent, menacing shadows behind him, their eyes glittering, as big and hulking as Danix.

Danix watched her, waiting. When she made no move to release the knives—indeed she couldn’t force her fingers open—he sighed. “So be it.” He gave a small nod, and then he and his men started toward her.

She backed away, but they strode inexorably closer. “Wait!”

Danix halted them with a raised hand. “Yes?”

“I’ll give them to you if you’ll let me go.”

His laughter cut through the air, piercing her like wicked arrows. “You may not bargain. I will have you
and
my knives, and when I tire of you, I will give you to my men. And when there is nothing left of you we need, we will bury you.”

She opened her hands. “Saint, Satan, kill them.”

They flew from her hands and hovered in the air, sharp, shiny things of deadly beauty. She didn’t really believe they’d listen to her over Danix, but she had to try. The alternative was worse than being sliced up by her own knives.

So she ordered them to slaughter her enemies, and she turned to flee. She probably wouldn’t get far, but she had to try.

She heard Danix roaring behind her, his rough voice furious. “Saint! Satan!”

And then time stopped, and she could hear nothing over the roaring in her ears. She fell to her knees and realized somewhere deep inside that she’d landed on a very sharp rock. Pain shot through her, and the wet warmth of blood dampened the cloth of her jeans.

But none of that mattered. Nothing mattered, because Mach ran toward her, his strong legs eating up the distance, his dark hair streaming behind him, his face full of fury and retribution.

He’d come back. He’d come back for her.

She struggled to her feet, her desire to run fading like it had never been. She wasn’t alone.

Someone grabbed her hair and yanked her against a hard body, and suddenly, finally, her rage came back to her. It must have realized she was not a lost cause after all.

And Mach drew ever closer.

“Satan,” she screamed, and almost before the word was out of her mouth, the hair-pulling captor released her as her knife sliced his throat.

Her knives had not deserted her. Her courage had not deserted her. Her
Mach
had not deserted her.

She laughed, and at last Mach reached her.

“Stop!” he roared. “Cin, the knives!”

Her knives were keeping the Mehnarthians busy, but she trusted him. If he thought she should call them, she had no reason not to.

“Saint, Satan, to me.”

Danix was on the ground, on his knees. He used his cranks to fend off Saint, who seemed determine to end him. Perhaps Danix had not been a good master.

His people milled, unsure of what to do. The one who’d held her was now dead, his blood sinking into the thirsty earth.

Saint and Satan hesitated, but came when she commanded them. She caught them, then lifted each to her lips. “Thank you, my warriors.”

“Do not mock,” Mach told her, his voice low, his stare on Danix.

She knew what he meant. There were a lot of housekeepers, and Danix was a killer. He would get her, if he wanted her,
and
her knives. And now, Mach.

She nodded and holstered her knives. Let Mach handle the politics. She wasn’t stupid enough to do anything but cooperate.

But Danix was beyond furious. He stood, staring at her with so much hatred she shuddered and looked at the ground. “You turned them!”

She didn’t know what to say. Her knives were her knives. “I didn’t know.” It was all she could think of.

Mach turned the attention away from her and her knives. “You swore to leave her alone once she satisfied your Moonbruin. She belongs to
me
. You broke your word.”

Danix growled, and his men shifted restlessly. “She said you had left Ripindal with your other slave. I broke
nothing
.”

She wanted so badly to ask him about Elder, about the last few days, but could not. Now was not the time for catching up.

Her gaze strayed to the miners, who sat huddled against the hillside, waiting. She frowned. Would they not even try to escape?

But they were not her problem. They were dead anyway.

Mach and Danix began, if not exactly arguing, speaking heatedly in their own language. She could only wait, much like the ill miners.

At last Mach looked down at her. “He will uphold his promise.”

Relieved, she closed her eyes in a long, slow blink. “Wonderful.”

“He will have the knives.”

She put her hands on the hilts of her knives and took a step back. “They won’t have
him
, Mach. They want to kill him.”

“Because you order it. You will gift him with them, and they will belong. He will control them.”

It was almost like giving away one’s children. She shook her head and took another step back. “I don’t want to.”

His voice was gentle. “You must, little one.”

“I grow tired of waiting,” Danix said, his voice tight, angry. “Give them to me now, or I take them and kill your master.” He laughed, but it held no amusement. “My men need to spill some blood here today. Decide now.”

“Cin,” Mach said. “For his pride you must do this. It will bring peace.”

Slowly, housekeeping surrounded them.

She pulled Saint and Satan from their holsters. “Please, Danix. Let me keep them. I beg you. Let me keep them.”

He crossed his arms. “No. Command them to me, now.”

A sob burst from her, and she lifted her knives to her lips. “You must go to Danix. Do as he commands you.” And then quickly, she whispered, “But he is not your master. Find your way to me again.”

She released them.

It was all she could do.

They hovered before her face for an instant, as though confused. “Go,” she told them, her voice breaking.

They went, flying with dark smoky beauty and blue mist into Danix’s waiting grasp. “Now, you will watch what I can do with
my
knives.”

He sent them into the small band of miners. She covered her face as Saint and Satan ripped into the ill men with a savageness borne of Danix’s wishes, doing as she’d told them to do. Obeying the evil Mehnarthian.

Mach put his arm around her shoulders and began to turn her away. “We will go.”

“No!” Danix narrowed his eyes, his lips curled in a sadistic snarl. “Not just yet. First, she will watch my beauties accept their punishment.”

She stared at him, dazed. “What?”

Mach’s arm tightened around her. “I am sorry.”

She looked at him, mystified, then back to Danix. “What?” she repeated, but in her stomach, dread unfurled in a long, dark ribbon.

The ground was splashed with scarlet. The dead miners lay upon the unforgiving rocks, their limbs tangled together in a hideous, unthinkable embrace. Saint and Satan flew to Danix, but their flight was slower, their beautiful, vivid colors dimmed.

Danix grasped them, and after glancing at her to make sure she watched, knelt and began beating them against a large, black rock.

Blue and black sparks flew, and in her mind those sparks were tears of pain and hopelessness as their cruel former master destroyed them upon the hard stone.

She screamed as Satan’s beautiful blade chipped, screamed and started forward, mindless rage taking over. She would stop him.

But Mach grabbed her and swung her around, his arms unrelenting around her. She struggled in his grip, but she might as well have saved her energy. He would not release her.

“We will go,” he said.

And she knew it wouldn’t have mattered if Danix had commanded otherwise, Mach was done listening to the Mehnarthian.

He carried her away. Away from the sound of blade striking rock, away from the silent housekeepers, the dead miners, the cruel Danix.

Away.

Chapter Sixteen

He scooped her bag from the ground, still holding her securely against his big body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, biting her lip to keep her tears inside.

“I found a fucking shrube,” she whispered, her lips against his skin.

“Good.”

“Where is Elder?”

“I will explain all soon.”

She wanted him to talk right then, to take her mind off Saint and Satan, whom she’d abandoned. She didn’t pretend to really understand the fighting knives—what they felt, or thought, or how they were created. They just were.

And she’d left them. Much like she’d left her child. Both events were her fault, for letting impulse control her, for acting without a thought or care for the consequences.

She shuddered in his arms. “Dammit, Mach. I want them back.”

“I know.”

“They’ll come back to me someday, if he doesn’t destroy them.”

“Yes.” He slowed his stride, then let her slide to the ground. They were far enough away from the housekeepers that she could no longer hear them.

When she stood on the ground and looked up at him, he grasped her chin and studied her face through narrow eyes. “Who hurt you?”

She touched her cheek. “That bastard Danix. He was pissed because I told him—”

“I do not care.”

“Huh?”

“There are no excuses. I shall kill him.”

She raised an eyebrow. “For hitting me?”

“His time will come.”

“Why didn’t you just kill him back there, when he was beating the fuck out of my knives?”

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “I am not stupid.”

She smiled, in spite of the shit she’d just been through. “Tell me, Mach. Tell me about Elder.” She forced herself to meet his dark gaze. She reached up to caress his cheek and to gently push long strands of his hair off his face. “About why you came back.”

Please, please don’t tell me Elder is dead.

“We go farther, make camp, talk.”

She frowned, then grabbed her bag up from where he’d dropped it. “Let’s get going then.”

Danger passed, and her old friend adrenaline fled, leaving her exhausted and hungry. She wanted to lie before a campfire with Mach and allow the realization that he was
here
, with her, sink in.

Only once along the way did he make the offer she’d been waiting for, the one she knew he would make.

“You will take my shrube and go to paradise with Elder. I’ll join you soon.”

She didn’t even look at him. “Not gonna happen.” Then she grinned. “Thanks, though.”

He didn’t argue, but she heard him give a faint sigh.

Side by side they loped still farther from housekeeping, and when he urged her to higher and higher ground, she didn’t argue. Her legs and battered body protested, but she was strong enough to take it.

They wouldn’t leave the mountains for months. Might as well start high. They traveled for hours, going deeper and deeper into the mountains, climbing in such a roundabout way it was barely like climbing at all. She was thankful for that.

Mach pushed them ever on, his black eyes scanning the paths behind them. Maybe he knew Danix wouldn’t give her up and wouldn’t allow Mach to live. She didn’t know and didn’t want to. Not yet.

He gave her bits of jerky and fruit, allowing her to rest for short periods before they marched on. She didn’t argue, but when at last he called a halt and began setting up camp, she fell to the ground, exhausted.

How deceptively peaceful the land seemed. Birds sang with busy abandon, small animals hopped through the grass, climbed the huge trees, and the sun shone with dappled glory through the treetops.

She could smell water and knew Mach had stopped them here for that reason. Tiredness overcame her, and she watched him prepare, his muscles rippling as he piled wood for a fire.

He glanced at her. “Lie back. Nap. I’ll wake you for food.”

She’d lost her blanket, but it was warm. Using her bag for a pillow, she dozed.

When he woke her, the fire was blazing, dinner was roasting, and the air had turned the slightest bit cooler. She stretched and yawned, feeling better for her little rest.

She lay for a minute just watching him, relief at his company rushing over her.

He’d stripped down to his pants, his boots and weapons lying in a neat heap where he could reach them in a hurry.

His warm skin glowed in the firelight, his muscles bunching and bulging with every move he made. His long hair trailed down his back, and she sighed at his extreme male beauty.

“It won’t be long before cold weather,” she said. “We’ll have to search like mad to find some shrube before we have to start back down.”

“We won’t leave the mountains,” he said, and began pulling off her boots. When she started to protest, he pointed to the small pot of water warming by the fire. “Wash. And talk.”