She took the single step over the threshold. She was surprised, and disappointed when she didn’t spontaneously combust.
It took time for her eyes to adjust. She smelt damp concrete and rust, mould and dank air. It was cloying. Thick, sickening. Her stomach seized, cramped. She tried not to breathe through her nose.
And then there he was. A King of his domain. The devil made flesh. Death reincarnate. A terrible dictator that sat on his throne of leather and wood on a dais that had been built for the cavernous foyer. He was surrounded by men, soldiers with weapons strapped to their bodies. Guns and blades and clubs as thick as her forearm. They talked strategy and ignored her until Parker’s eyes shifted from the map at his feet to the tiny woman at his door.
Then their eyes were upon her, and she was trapped.
She stood fast against the ferocious urge to step back, to turn and flee, to cry mercy and bend at the knee.
A lush mouth, high cheekbones and a lean throat. Eyes that held sadistic intentions.
Parker was a sadist.
But he was just a man.
A man who sat upon a chair made of wood and leather. A man surrounded by nothing more than the remnants of human life. He was dressed in the clothes of the past. His eyes were still human; his body was not infallible. She may not live through this. But Euan would, and he would avenge her. Parker was no more God than she was.
‘One of the last remaining women on this earth. Did you know that?’
His voice was ice. It sliced right through her, caught her heart and twisted it. This was the man who had brutalised Nick. This was the man who had tortured Smith, this was the man that had terrorised Lily.
That voice would be the same voice that gave them nightmares. That kept them from sleep.
It was the voice that would likely do the same for her.
‘I understand that to be true,’ she replied. She should rail, threaten, curse. But it would serve no purpose. She wouldn’t win with profanities. She wouldn’t keep her virtue with threats. She certainly wouldn’t escape with whimpers and tears. This man knew tears, he probably got off on them. No, she had to remain calm.
Most importantly, she had to remain alive.
The smile that stretched across his lips was beautiful. She understood now why Euan had been so easily fooled. Under all that malice and hate, Parker was beautiful. The face of an angel with the heart of the devil. That grin, that dimple, goodness. No wonder he ruled the new hoard of the damned. If Kira didn’t know of the blood that coated his hands, she would likely have followed him into the bowels of hell too.
Kira retained her stance as Parker slid from his throne. His walk towards her was as elegant as any catwalk model. His hips danced with each step, his shoulders rolled with the sinuous movement. His hands swung as though they were made of liquid metal, not flesh and bone.
Her breath was hoarse. She couldn’t calm the clamouring of her heart. She couldn’t stop the sweat that flooded her palms. But she could hold the tears back.
She would hold the tears back.
‘So beautiful.’
His breath wafted over her cheeks. It smelt of cinnamon and decay. A combination that almost made her gag. She swallowed instead. Her throat convulsed just as he touched the delicate skin there. The skin that was still tacky with blood. The skin that was hypersensitive to sensation.
‘Where have you been hiding, little bird?’
Should she answer? She didn’t, and her lack of response didn’t matter to him. His teeth were white in the light that was generated by biofuel. His jaw clean shaven. There was the scent of aftershave and washing powder that clung to the assortment of garments he wore.
He might be surrounded by the decaying remnants of humanity, but someone was still cleaning his clothes.
His fingers drifted over her skin. They played in the blood, trailed through the wetness and smeared the stains. His eyes burned where his fingers travelled. A horrifying light backlit irises of brown and gold. His steps around her were slow. A lazy perusal that assessed her body, scrutinised her features, her figure, her stature.
She had to look up to catch his gaze. His height was above average, but his lean stature gave the illusion of elevation. She refused to feel small. She refused to feel judged. She would not meet his gaze so that he could look down on her, demeaning her more than he already had.
‘You’re not from Mickey-O’s camp. I’ve collected those. Another man perhaps? Maybe several of them? How many men have you spread your legs for to keep you safe, tiny bird?’
A voice hoarse with fear said, ‘They’re coming for me.’
His smile was beautiful, and it was terrible. ‘I bet they are. And pray, what are their names? Maybe I know them, maybe we can strike a deal? Do they like to share?’
She closed her eyes and wetness escaped. They shared. They shared everything, including her heart and soul.
She opened her eyes. This man had been afraid of Euan once. He’d fled after they’d hurt Nick. Maybe he was still scared of a man who held vengeance in his heart, who would never stop until he freed her. She held the gaze of brown and gold that would witness her death and said, ‘Euan McKay would never share with you. He’ll see you dead first. You’re a walking corpse, Parker. He’s coming for you, and this time, he’ll find you and have his revenge.’
The air in the room was gone. One moment Kira was breathing, the next the oxygen was obliterated. She choked as the hand that had hurt Nick squeezed around her throat.
‘You’re McKay’s woman?’
She couldn’t answer. It was a rhetorical question anyway. Even as she fought for
