Page 35 of Mortal Heart

She was the second woman to rightly call him an asshole tonight, and by his estimate about the hundredth in the past year alone. While he’d felt guilty for brushing aside Mireille’s offer of help, he hadn’t cared one iota about her opinion of him, or anyone else’s, except perhaps Alice. Truth be told, he’d not-so-secretly reveled in his asshole status more than once.

Which was why he was totally unprepared for the uneasy feeling Arkady’s words caused.

He might not have cared if anyone else in the cosmos thought he was a selfish asshole—and might have actively cultivated that opinion, in fact—but hedidcare that Arkady Woodall thought so, especially when he’d put some very uncharacteristic effort into convincing her otherwise.

With visible disgust, Arkady let go of his vest and took a step back. “How are we going to get out of here?” She picked up her stake and dusted it off before sliding it back into its hiding place in her right boot. “They’re going to know he’s dead soon if they don’t already. If he’s got any offspring, they felt him die, and if anyone was watching the surveillance cameras, they saw what we did.”

Ronan put more personal concerns aside and focused on their immediate problem. “If someone had been watching, they would likely have come in here when he spewed flying demons,” he pointed out. “Certainly when I put a knife in his eye. He must have turned the cameras off to make sure no one watched him confront us.”

“That makes sense.”

“But you’re right—they will know soon.” He crouched, lifted the edge of the satin sheets, and picked up one of the wriggling demons between his thumb and forefinger. “How good of an actress are you?”

“You ask me that after you saw me convince Mora I wanted to sleep with him?” She snorted. “I deserved an Oscar for not vomiting every time that slimeball touched me.”

“A fair point.” He stashed the disarmed and de-winged demon in one of the zippered pockets of his leather pants. “I suggest we use these vermin as our means of escape.”

“What, find two that still have their wings, shrink ourselves, and ride them out of here? ’Cuz I’m all out of shrinking spells and I don’t see any saddles laying around.” She glanced at their surroundings and raised her eyebrows. “Well, not tiny ones, anyway.”

“A wonderfully creative but impractical solution.” Ronan grabbed the toppled rack to test its weight. “I’m going to suggest a slightly more feasible scenario.”

“Fine.” She studied him, her expression cold. “When we make it out of here, you and I are going to discuss at length the extent to which you just fucked up.”

“I have no doubt we will.” Grimly, he adjusted his grip on the heavy rack and braced himself to lift it. “But first, I need you to scream.”

10

ARKADY

Arkady poundedon the dungeon’s thick door and screamed bloody murder. “Help!Help!Somebody,HELP!”

She hurt so badly from the demon poison that even tiny movements sent waves of agony through her entire body. Banging her fists on the door almost made her black out. She held onto consciousness with all her might and stayed on her feet because she’d be damned if either the vamps or Ronan would get the satisfaction of seeing her sprawl on the floor.

Ronan. She wanted to put her boot so far up his fine ass that he’d be spitting out her shoelaces. And to think she’d put on crotchless stockings for him.

The door flew open so fast that it would have sent Arkady flying if she hadn’t been standing to the side. Daniela stood frozen in the doorway, staring in horror at the sight of the hundreds of tiny, wriggling, screeching demons crawling over the pile of ash that had once been Henry Farrell. Whether or not Daniela recognized the clothing, Arkady wasn’t sure, but it wouldn’t be long before the vamps figured out the dead man was Farrell. She wanted to be gone before that happened.

“Let us out of here!” Arkady wailed. She yanked on Ronan’s leash and elbowed past the dumbstruck female vampire. In the hallway, she shouted, “This place is infested withdemons! They just killed someone!”

An alarm went off. Who or what had triggered it, she had no idea, but it accomplished what she’d hoped it would. All hell broke loose. Club employees—vampires, dhampirs, and a few humans—converged on the dungeon suite. Even the vampires seemed shaken and confused by the swarm of screeching demons and the remains of one of their own.

To get through the crowd, Arkady acted increasingly hysterical. The vampires, with their sensitive hearing, seemed more than happy to let them pass. Some even averted their eyes as if the sight of a panicked human offended them.

Unfortunately, they didn’t make it more than halfway down the hall before the effects of the damned demon poison caught up with her in earnest. Her vision swam. She stumbled into the wall and had to hold onto a sconce to keep from falling.

Without missing a beat, Ronan scooped her up like she weighed nothing and ran for the elevator. “My mistress needs help!” he pleaded to everyone they passed. “The demons hurt her, and they killed a vampire.”

None of the club employees bothered to reply. They rushed in the opposite direction, clearing a path to the elevator.

“I’m going to hurt you for this,” Arkady said very distinctly as Ronan jabbed the elevator button. “Nobody carries me like some damsel in distress.”

“I know, Mistress.” His eyes appeared feverish. “Add it to the list of ways I’ve fucked up tonight.”

She wondered if the demon poison had affected him after all. She’d assumed he was immune to whatever they’d had on their blades. Maybe not. He didn’t look well. He looked ill…and worried.

Worried about her? Surely not. Unless he knew something about that poison she didn’t—like it was deadly to humans. She would have expected him to tell her if that was the case, but who the hell knew what went through his idiot mind. He’d staked their best lead after promising not to. Maybe she’d given him more credit for brains than he deserved.

She was still processing that a vampire had puked a swarm of tiny flying demons with poisoned swords at them. She’d thoughtAlicewas the one in their partnership who got herself into this kind of jam. Starting a bar fight—or any kind of fight—was more Arkady’s style, and here she was doing everything she could to avoid fighting their way out of Nyx. She would have laughed if she hadn’t thought it would attract attention, and if she didn’t hurt like she’d been run over by a steamroller.

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