Burning Dawn

CHAPTER SIX

FINALLY, ELIN COULD BREATHE.

Thane’s presence somehow sucked the oxygen out of her lungs. He was just so much...man. Big and hard, undeniably dangerous, he soaked the atmosphere with the fiercest testosterone, making every woman in his vicinity downright giddy with an intoxicating rush of hormones, endorphins and chemicals.

Seriously. She’d wanted to have him for dinner. No crumb left behind.

She imagined him spread out on a buffet table. If he were a food, he would be a Grade A fillet, marinated in a rich sweet-and-tangy sauce—and sprinkled with enough cayenne pepper to burn just right.

No. No! Bad Elin. But...he’d looked at her with dark intent, only to touch her with tender kindness. He’d broken a man’s wrist for grazing his wing, only to demand Elin caress it.

He was a bundle of contradictions. But then, so was she, both frightened of him and attracted to him. An attraction that would only get her in trouble. He held her future in his strong, snap-her-neck-with-a-single-flick-of-his-wrist hands.

Even still, there was no controlling her body’s reactions to him. In his presence, wanton heat liquefied her bones. And her brain! She forgot who she was, who he was, saying “screw you” to the vast gulf between them and the danger he represented to her, focusing only on the things they could be doing to each other. Kissing, tasting. Licking. Touching. Stroking.

Devouring.

She shivered at the thought. Then she cursed.

These reckless desires meant nothing, changed nothing. Thane was her boss, and therefore off-limits. He was also a borderline sociopath with extra stakes, and he would hurt her the moment he learned of her origins. But the nail in the I-wanna-slice-of-that coffin, besides her vow to Bay? He was a blatant womanizer.

He and Blondie had clearly gone nuclear between the sheets. His hair had been tousled, the strands sticking out in spikes. There had been claw marks in his cheek and bite marks on his neck.

Elin ignored the pang in her chest.

He wasn’t worth the mental anguish he would surely inflict on her. So, pursue him? Break her vow? Become one in a line of thousands? Lose her cash cow of a job, not to mention her new, blooming friendship with the other barmaids? No, thanks.

So, moving on. Elin donned the rest of the trinkets she’d won and headed to her room. She desperately needed a nap.

Bellorie was sprawled on her bed, wearing adorable flannel pj’s and reading a book—Decapitation For Idiots—looking so normal Elin momentarily flashed back to college.

She’d attended the University of Arizona what seemed a lifetime ago, getting married when she was only six credits shy of a business-management degree, and deciding to take time off and finish later. After all, her best years were ahead of her.

Yeah. Right. If “best years ahead” is the answer, then “things stupid people say” is the question.

She’d moved out of the dorm, and into an apartment with Bay, but oh, how she’d missed the way her roommate used to stack pizza boxes in the corner. She’d enjoyed making art out of empty beer cans. There’d been a message board on the door and borrowed clothes from six different people on the floor. The clash of diverse styles and tastes should have been overwhelming, but they had been comforting. There’d been nothing to worry about but midterms and which party to crash.

This new bedroom provided the same whimsical variety. One of the beds seemed to be made from LEGO. Another had a huge stuffed panda as the headboard. The only side table had wooden human legs as the, well, legs, with fake vomit spilled on top. The reading chair was normal, but the ottoman in front of it was shaped like a turtle, with the head, arms and legs peeking out at the bottom.

“Hey,” Elin said, noting the other girls hadn’t yet arrived.

Dark eyes flipped up and landed on her. “Hey, yourself. You little hooker,” the Harpy added with a sunny laugh. “Look at you, flaunting your prize so blatantly. I’m impressed.”

“I know, right.” She performed a twirl, knowing the diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and rubies sparkled in the light. “You jelly?”

“Beyond.” A smiling Bellorie threw the book at her. Despite how fast and strong the girl was, Elin managed to jump out of the way in time. And it was a good thing she succeeded, because the corner of the hardback lodged into the wall. Had that been her head...

Instant goner.

“Oops.” Bellorie made a my-bad face. “For a minute there, I forget you’re only human. But you’re getting good at dodging. You might be a halfway decent member of Multiple Scorgasms after all.”

Highly doubtful. Elin wasn’t strong enough to lift the boulders, so she couldn’t throw them. And if someone actually hit her with one of those death missiles, her internal organs would burst. Right now, she wasn’t exactly sure what position she would play. Other than...bait? What she did know—she did not like the sport. It was far too violent and a trigger to the worst of her emotions.

“Oh, and just FYI,” Bellorie added. “We play the Spinal Tappers this weekend, and the Rockzillas after that.”

“Yay.” Elin managed to pull off a convincing fist pump. “But are you sure I’m ready? Maybe I should ride the pine for those. You know, continue to learn through observation.”

“Nah. You need to experience a true scorgasm of your own.”

“I suppose.” Renlay would have wanted her to play so bad. Her dad, a major adrenaline junkie, would have cheered like a madman. Bay would have had to drink a case of beer to calm his nerves. But all three of them would have been proud of her.

And...something was wrong, she thought with a frown.

What?

She’d thought of her family and—

Hadn’t immediately remembered the deaths they’d faced. Hadn’t cried.

Something wasn’t wrong. Something was different. Why?

Before she could ponder the answer, a knock sounded at the door.

“Enter at your own peril,” Bellorie called.

Adrian stepped inside, his size startling Elin all over again. “Where are Chanel and Savy?”

He must have followed directly behind her, and yet she hadn’t heard him. Gotta work on my awareness.

“Chanel’s on a blind date,” Bellorie replied. “The guy had his eyes removed by his brother, or something like that. And Savy took off right after her shift. Don’t know where. Octavia is out buying ice cream—not that you asked.”

Dude! Why hadn’t Octavia offered to bring Elin a scoop of double dark chocolate?

Adrian sighed. “Very well. I need you and Elin to come with me to help remove Thane’s newest plaything.”

No! First instinct—curiosity that did not need to be assuaged.

Yes! Second—physical preservation.

Mentally and emotionally, no good could come of seeing the kind of girl Thane preferred, up close and personal, after he’d had his big hands and sinful mouth all over her. Elin would not be jealous—not anymore, dang it!—but because of her silly attraction to him, she might begin to wonder what it would feel like to have the man’s hands and mouth all over her. It would be better just to avoid all things Thane until her lustful feelings faded.

And they would.

They had to.

When she dated, she wanted nice. Normal.

Wait. No. She didn’t want to date. She didn’t want a man. Not even a so-called “normal” one. She wanted to be alone.

Right?

“I’m too tired,” she said, risking castigation. She didn’t have to force a yawn. It came on its own. “You two go on, have fun. Live it up. Send me a postcard, and all that jazz.”

Bellorie rolled her eyes. “You’re going, you little hussy, and that’s final. This is a twofer job, and Adrian’s not allowed to touch the opposite sex.”

He wasn’t? Why?

Elin glanced over at him, hoping he would offer an answer. He turned and stalked away, forcing her and Bellorie to follow. Asking Bellorie directly behind his back? Not cool. She would wait. Surely she would overhear someone talking about it.

Accidental eavesdropping? Very cool. All the kids were doing it nowadays.

The trek took longer than she anticipated, each new hallway more luxurious than the last, each set of stairs more elaborate and winding, until they reached a heavily guarded corridor leading to a pair of arching double doors. On the left side, iron was twisted in the shape of a tree. The branches bowed all the way to the right side, forming a canopy.

Those doors were pushed open for Adrian, splitting the tree, then held open for her and Bellorie. By strong, beautiful vamps. Or, as she’d started thinking of the race, bloodbarians.

As Elin bypassed the males, she tried not to care when they eyed her as if she would make a very tasty liquid snack, and all her neck lacked was a straw. Once inside the room—suite—she stopped and gaped. This was Thane’s private wing? Because wow. The man certainly knew how to pamper himself. There were plush couches and chairs in jewel tones, with feathered pillows, a coffee table with the legs of a lion, and a dark wood floor draped by a snow-white rug. Plants and flowers decorated every corner.

“Don’t you just want to rub up against everything and purr like a kitty?” Bellorie asked with a good-natured grin. “Although, I don’t recommend you actually do it. Thane will know, and he’ll be tee-icked.”

“Listen to her. She came across the knowledge the hard way,” Adrian said.

Bellorie nodded. “True story.”

Even still, Elin couldn’t stop herself from ghosting her fingertips along the softness of one of the couch pillows. Mistake! Her skin tingled and heated, desperate for more. A blush stained her cheeks. It wasn’t a good sign that her attraction encompassed Thane’s belongings.

“What did Thane do to you?” she asked. Over such a minor offense. “And how did he find out?” So I can be doubly careful with my own secrets.

“Aura, maybe? He keeps the hows to himself, so we can’t circumvent his methods. And I was lucky. I only got an hour-long lecture. ‘In some cultures, Harpy,’” the girl said, doing her best impression of Thane, “‘they chop off hands for a crime such as yours, blah, blah, blah, this isn’t a debate, blah, blah.’”

Elin laughed and cringed at the same time, and she was sure it looked as grotesque as it sounded.

“Since then,” the girl continued, “I always blame a man for my crimes. I’ve been quite satisfied with the results.”

They reached the first doorway down the longest hall. Bellorie let herself into the room, and Elin trailed behind reluctantly. Adrian waited outside. To avoid temptation?

The air smelled strongly of sex, and Elin’s nose wrinkled. Her chest began to ache. She hadn’t been prepared for this. Thane had smelled as luscious as always.

Forget him. More luxury greeted her. The kind she wouldn’t have thought possible. Gemstones glittered on the walls, and silks and velvets covered the massive bed.

A bed currently in shambles, as if a massive earthquake had hit. Blondie occupied the center, her bruised and battered body coiled into a ball. Elin’s breath caught as her hands curled into fists.

“Come on,” Bellorie said, dragging her the rest of the way inside.

What, exactly, had Thane done to the girl? “Did he hurt...? Why would he...? What could he possibly...?” A full sentence refused to form. Whatever he’d done? Not sexy! Not bad-boy delish! Just wrong.

Dude. She understood the desire for fierce, wild passion. But this? This was beyond her realm of experience.

“They love it,” Bellorie said, taking a tube of ointment from the top drawer of the nightstand and slathering the girl’s chafed wrists and ankles. “He does nothing they don’t beg for, I promise you.”

How could she know for sure? Had she ever—

No, Elin thought, as little sparks of jealousy—couldn’t be jealousy—were immediately doused. He would have banned the barmaid from the club. Right?

Bellorie gave her a little push toward the closet. “Be a dear and grab a robe for our dearly departing guest.”

Elin obeyed, amazed to find rack after rack of robes, all in different sizes, though each was smaller than anything Thane would be able to fit over his bulging wings and muscles. Which meant he bought these specifically for his women.

A bang-and-bail memento for the ladies to take home.

Her attraction to him took another major hit.

But...he couldn’t be the same man who’d taken Elin’s damaged hands in his and looked at them as if they were still somehow beautiful. As if he would like to burn to death the person responsible.

Possibility: I saw only what I wanted to see.

Disgusted with him, with herself, she handed the garment to Bellorie. The girl dressed the rousing Harpy and helped her stand, and Elin rushed to act as a second crutch.

“Wait. My jewelry,” the Harpy rasped.

Bellorie swiped a diamond choker and a pair of earrings from the surface of the nightstand and stuffed them in a pocket of the robe. “All set.”

He paid his lovers? To make what he did more palatable?

Attraction, almost completely gone.

Together they were able to haul the Harpy out of the room, down the hall, down an elevator, and through the club.

At the exit, the Harpy wavered on her feet. “Tell Thane...more...must have...”

“Sure, sure,” Bellorie replied. “You want more of him, will die if you don’t have him. Got it. Problem is, sugar bear, and please know I’m saying this to be kind, he’s already forgotten all about you.”

As the doors closed, sealing the dazed Harpy outside, Bellorie pinned Elin with a regretful stare. “Told you. They love it. Every freaking time. It’s only later that they start to hate him and lash out, but I suspect that’s because they still want him.”

Not me. Never me.

And yet, part of Elin mourned the loss of the Thane she’d hoped he was, the man she must have invented in her mind. The white knight. The charmer. The...hero.

Lesson learned: always look beyond the surface.

Slight problem, however. Her body still craved him. It didn’t know the difference between good-for-Elin/bad-for-Elin. It operated solely on sensation.

Well, it would have to be controlled.

And there was one sure way to satisfy the worst of the cravings...with another male.

The thought hit her, and she shook her head. No. Definitely not.

Definitely yes, said a beguiling voice, a temptation that had brewed for days, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Your entire being is waking up and remembering what it’s like to be kissed and touched. Remembering...and hungering. You need a man.

Elin flattened her hands over her now-rolling stomach. She hated this thought path. It was like forgiving herself for her part in Bay’s death. Worse, it was like saying she’d suffered enough.

She hadn’t, on either count.

Taking a lover doesn’t have to mean anything more than scratching an itch.

No.

Maybe sex can be another type of self-inflicted punishment. Thane certainly seems to think so.

Okay, now temptation was hitting her where it hurt. I deserve punishment.

She gulped, imagining what would happen if she continued to do nothing. The tension in her body would build...and build...and build. She would cave and throw herself at someone—probably Thane.

No matter what, she was going to cave, wasn’t she?

It would be better to take a lover now, while she had some sort of control...and could make herself hate it.

Yeah.

She drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it, the guilt winding cold, clammy arms around her, embracing her like an old friend...or the lover she was soon to take. Whom should she pick?

Someone like Bay? Gentle. Happy. Fun. But then, she would be giving this nameless, faceless guy what she was unable to give her dead husband. Affection and attention.

No. That wouldn’t do.

She would have to pick someone hard and harsh.

Like...Thane?

No! He wasn’t an option. He was the reason she was in this bind, yes, but he wasn’t an option. She would have to pick someone like Thane. A patron of the bar, maybe.

Like Merrick, the heartbreaker, maybe.

Yes. Him.

He would do.

He would be perfect, actually.

So...the next time his band came to the bar...

She closed her eyes to ward off the oncoming flood of remorse. She was really going to do this. She was really going to climb in bed with another man.

I’m sorry, Bay. I love you, and I miss you so much. Once I’ve done it, once it’s over, I’ll never want to do it again. I can go back to the way things were.

THANE PEERED AT ZACHAREL, incredulous. “Let’s make sure I understand you correctly. You aren’t going to kick me from the heavens, and you aren’t going to force me to free the Phoenix clan under my...care?”

“That’s right.”

Again, astonishment roared through him.

His leader stood at the edge of his home in the sky—a large cloud—his piercing green eyes scrutinizing the human world below. Wind whipped black locks of hair against his cheeks and around his shoulders. Gloriously golden wings arched proudly, a testament to his exalted place in their world.

In the heavens, there was a very clear hierarchy. The Most High. Clerici. The Elite Seven, Zacharel among them. Then everyone else.

To disobey Zacharel’s edicts was to court ruin. Thane had known that. But he’d done it anyway. And he was to be...forgiven?

Now, he looked to Bjorn and Xerxes. Both were as baffled as he was.

“I know Clerici allows for vengeance,” Zacharel said stiffly. “I also know it violates the Most High’s code of ethics, and will have spiritual consequences for us all.”

Yes. But the Most High wouldn’t stop Clerici from doing what Clerici wanted to do—they all had free will. Even still, every act against his rules edged a Sent One out from under his umbrella of protection.

“The Phoenix enslaved you,” Zacharel continued, “and so you are now allowed to mete out death.”

“I am.” And he would. Over and over again.

His leader wasn’t done. “And I am allowed to punish you.”

Forgiven, yes, but not forgotten. “What will you do?”

Zacharel sighed. “Koldo was whipped when he enslaved his mother. What kind of leader would I be if I allowed another of my warriors—even if he is my second-in-command—to forgo the same?” He met Thane’s gaze dead-on. “Therefore, you will receive a lash of the whip for every warrior being tortured on your front lawn.”

That was to be a punishment? “Very well.” He wouldn’t let Zacharel know how much he enjoyed it. He would control his body’s reaction. Somehow.

“You won’t release them of your own volition?”

“No.”

“Even though you rush headlong into disaster?”

Even though. One day, the king of the Firebirds would return to camp, find it deserted, hear of Thane’s macabre courtyard, and come gunning for him. There would be a gruesome battle, for Ardeo’s decree that Thane be spared from a deathblow would give way to vengeance. But Thane would not relinquish his captives, even then.

And everyone around you will be placed in the line of fire.

He didn’t want to care. Wanted to glory in the same casual disregard he’d harbored before.

But...what if Bjorn or Xerxes were hurt? It would be his fault.

They are strong. They can protect themselves.

And what of Elin? The fragile human was now his responsibility. Unlike his friends, she would not recover if the Phoenix burned her alive. Their preferred method for eliminating someone of another race.

He worked two fingers over his jaw, the action so fierce he left welts behind. She is nothing. Means nothing.

A foul taste coated his tongue, and this time he knew what it was. An indication of a lie. Despite the fact that he hadn’t spoken a word. Irritated, confused, he ground his molars. She. Means. Nothing.

The foul taste intensified.

“I will take the lash,” he announced.

Zacharel’s nod was grave. “Very well.”

Leave us, he projected to Bjorn and Xerxes. He didn’t want the two to see this. They’d witnessed enough of each other’s torture.

Both shook their heads no. They would stay. They would watch. And they would support him.

“I played a part in this,” Xerxes said. “I will take the lash, as well.”

“As will I,” Bjorn said.

“No.”

“Yes,” they said in unison.

Guilt rose. They weren’t like him. They found no solace in pain, and had suffered too much already, when Thane had been unable to help them. Now, he couldn’t let them take his deserved punishment—especially since they were utterly undeserving.

Don’t do this, he pleaded. Go.

It’s already done, Xerxes said with a determined shake of his wings.

Together until the end, Bjorn said, his rainbow eyes fierce.

In unison, his friends removed the top half of their robes, gave Zacharel their backs, and sank to their knees. Ready.

Thane closed his eyes. He should let the Phoenix go. He—

Couldn’t.

Very well.

Hating himself, Thane followed suit. He spread his wings and wound them forward, around his arms and out of the way. He was lashed first, the leather biting into his wings, and then, when they were shredded, into his skin.

Any pleasure he felt was negated during Xerxes’s turn, then Bjorn’s. Neither displayed any type of reaction, but Thane couldn’t help but cringe with every blow.

“Now. Business,” Zacharel said after they had dressed. As if nothing had happened. He motioned to the cars driving along winding roads. Nothing more than ants on a hill beneath them. “A few days ago, William the Ever Randy’s daughter, White, was killed by the same Phoenix responsible for slaying King Ardeo’s beloved concubine.”

Thane focused. William. An immortal of questionable origins. A male without allegiance or conscience. A man with unequaled power. Thane had always admired him. He lived his life the way Thane wished to live his. Without regrets.

“The killer’s name was Petra,” Zacharel continued. “I say was, because William and his three sons ensured she would not regenerate.”

“How?”

“I’m not yet certain.”

Still, an interesting bit of knowledge Thane stored away. When he finished with Kendra, he wanted to ensure she was unable to regenerate, as well.

“William’s daughter, White...” Zacharel sighed.

She was the embodiment of subjection, and upon her death her spirit broke into millions of pieces, each like a bug, spreading throughout New York, infecting the humans unfortunate enough to be in the way. Their leader pushed the words inside their heads, perhaps not wanting the information floating away on the breeze to panic those who didn’t yet know. Demons used that subjection to their advantage and more easily possessed human bodies. Crime is now at an all-time high, and I have since learned from the Most High that one of the demons responsible for killing Germanus is using the violence as a cover, attempting to shield his whereabouts.

What do you want us to do? Bjorn asked.

All members of an army could communicate this way. Meaning, all members of an army were bonded through mental highways. Thane had never liked it, had only ever wanted such a connection with Bjorn and Xerxes. Because if voice could travel those roadways, so could thoughts. Memories. No one had a right to his secrets.

Go to New York and hunt the demon, Zacharel said.

And we’re, what? Xerxes replied. Supposed to bust into random homes and businesses, and hope we get lucky?

Thane scrubbed a hand down his face. Did the Most High offer any specifics?

A shake of Zacharel’s dark head. “I can tell you that evil always leaves a trail. Find the start of it, follow it, and then you will find the end of it.”

He made it sound easy. Thane knew it wouldn’t be. It never was. But he and his boys would persevere. They always did.

“Koldo, Axel, Malcolm, Magnus and Jamilla are already there, waiting for you.”

Thane arched a brow. “Waiting?” The most impatient warriors of all time? “Rather than hunting?”

“I realized I made a mistake, sending my people to different locations. It thinned our efforts. So, from this moment forward, we will work together. We will concentrate on catching only one of the six demons responsible for killing Germanus. Once that’s done, we will turn our efforts to a second, and so on.”

The snowball effect. One victory would prime everyone for the next.

Wise.

Frowning, Zacharel tilted his head to the side. “Go. Go now. The others have been ambushed, and a battle is in progress.”