Demon from the Dark

there's a chance for escape. Of course, there's a certainty of pain.'

Malkom worked to block him out, wondering why he'd ever answered the vampire in the first place.

Because he intrigued me with his knowledge of what I am.

'Perhaps if you broke free, you could be reunited with your pretty witch?'

At that, Malkom lunged to the glass. 'What do you know of her? Where is she?'

'Carrow Graie is close.'

'Where? Damn you, tell me how to get to her!'

'The guards approach. They're going to take either you or me.'

If Malkom could leave this cell, would he see her? Since he was able to speak so much more freely, he needed to communicate with her. To tell her that he thought she was more of a whore than his own mother. To inform her that he was going to enslave her, put her in chains, and fuck her tender body raw.

At the thought, he grew hard as stone.

Now he felt relief that he hadn't taken her before. If he'd claimed her that last day, his seed could have been quickening inside her right now. Trapped in this cell, he would have no control over the offspring she carried.

The idea of her growing big with his babe...

He slammed his fist into the wall, hating her anew for how badly he still wanted that.

Suddenly he smelled the fog with which they sedated him, spreading through the air.

'Looks like it's to be you, Scarba.'

Finally Malkom might determine why they'd gone to such pains to capture him. And he could begin his search for Carrow.

'Watch out for Chase, the one with the gloves,' Lothaire advised. 'He is much faster than he appears.'

By the time the mortal guards entered to shackle his hands behind his back, Malkom could scarcely lift his head or shuffle his feet. But he wouldn't have fought them anyway. He wanted out of this place.

Down the corridor they led him. He hazily observed more immortals, species after species—

From the corner of his eye, he spied pale skin and jet-black hair.

He swung his head around. The witch. She is here. A prisoner like him, standing motionless in the center of a cell.

Though weakened, he thrashed against his bonds. Taking the mortals by surprise, he lurched for the glass that separated her from him.

For a split second, they stared at each other. Even after everything, he desired her, craved her to a blistering degree. 'You lied to me! Betrayed me.'

Her face lost even more color, and she stepped closer. 'Malkom, please—'

'I will come for you!' he bellowed, fighting the mortals. 'Make you pay!' He heard a shot and tensed too late. A dart filled him with poison.

He collapsed to his back, keeping her in his sights even as his vision grew dim....

When Malkom awakened, he was strapped to a metal table. The dried blood had been cleaned from his body, and he'd been clad in new clothes, a soldier's trews and shirt like the ones he'd worn before.

Strangers—enemies—had undressed him while he was unconscious. Another indignity the witch would pay for. He strained against his bonds, but they were unbreakable.

A door slid open and the tall man who'd observed Malkom's capture entered the room. Hair hung over his face, seemingly by design. He was dressed all in black—and he wore gloves. Chase.

'Why have you taken me?' Malkom demanded, renewing his efforts to get free. He was burning to return and seize the witch. She was here, for some reason imprisoned as he was.

Perhaps she'd failed to bring back the next male her masters had dispatched her to deceive.

'All in good time, Slaine.' Sweat beaded Chase's upper lip, and his pupils were dilated. Malkom scented a sickly sweet smell, knew the man was taking some kind of drug.

When a dark-haired woman in a white coat entered, Chase told her, 'His blood's been drawn. The second your lab's done, you'll destroy it.'

'But his orders—'

'Destroy it!' Chase snapped.

Once the woman collected the glass tubes and left, Malkom said, 'What do you want with me?'

'There's much interest in you. In your genesis.' The man seemed both fascinated and disgusted by Malkom. 'Today, you're going to tell me all about it. And tomorrow, my physicians will examine you, to see what makes you faster, stronger.'

'So you can make more like me?'

'So we can make sure your kind is never miscreated again. By anyone.' Chase had a demented gleam in his bloodshot eyes that even the Viceroy hadn't displayed.

Because the Viceroy had never despised the demons he'd tortured. He hadn't cared about them enough to.

'Do you think we're the only ones, mortal or otherwise, who have been seeking you?' Chase asked. 'There are only four of your kind known. We have to acquire all of you, if for no other reason than to prevent someone else from doing it. You have proven the easiest to catch, since you can't trace.'

The others could? Was it still possible for him? 'Release me. Fight me yourself.' Though the mortal appeared unwell, he was tall, his build rangy but strong.

Chase ignored him. 'We'll start with the most basic question. Who made you?'

Malkom gave no answer. Instead he studied the ceiling above him, imagining the expression on the witch's beautiful face as he tormented her, possessing her body while stealing her blood.

In a low tone, Chase commanded, 'Answer me.'

'You do not frighten me,' Malkom said. 'I know much about torture.'

'Then I'm about to teach you more.'

Chapter 30

Carrow was still shaking from her earlier encounter with Malkom when they dragged him by, half-dead, hours later. The whites of his eyes were fully red. Blood streamed from his nose, ears, and mouth.

What had they done to him? Her tears welled once more.

He thrashed to get free, to reach her cell. His voice a weak rasp, he said, 'Bound forever, wife? Is this what you wanted me for?'

Though he resisted, the guards subdued him more easily, hauling him away, back to his own cell.

As soon as they were out of sight, Ember said, 'Wife? The witch is hitched!'

Naturally, Ruby had peeked out, witnessing the exchange. 'Who was that?'

Ember delighted in answering, 'He's your new stepdad. Or rather, your stepdemon.'

Portia cried, 'Felicitations!'

'Carrow?' Lanthe slanted her an arch look. 'Surely you didn't ...'

Ember laughed. 'Yes, do deny it, witch.'

'It was one of those demon proclaiming ceremonies,' Carrow hedged.

Lanthe relaxed. 'So it doesn't count.'

Again, Carrow recalled Malkom's expression the first time he'd called her 'wife.' He'd gazed down at her with such pride, as if he'd carried a treasure. ... 'It counts,' she said. 'I don't deny it—or him.' Even if Malkom was lost to her.

Lanthe gasped.

Ruby frowned with confusion.

Ember snickered, and a haze fell over Carrow's vision.

Malkom's torture, and Regin's as well, these last days of misery, imprisonment with these evil bitches ... all too much to take. With a strangled yell, Carrow launched herself at Ember, clocking her