Page 58 of Torn Between Two Worlds

“But—”

“Understood?”

The cell walls vibrated with his shout, and she briefly wondered if he wasn't going to be the one to kill her with a cave-in.

Jonathan nodded slowly.

“Good. Now you may continue with your plan to bring the Horseman down. Your world means little to me, and you are no longer a part of my radar. Unless she dies.”

Just like his brother, the man was gone. “Oh, and Miss Miller? Happy Hauntings.”

His voice pierced the cavern, his laughter booming in her ears from her head still ringing after he’d slammed it, but that wasn't the worst part.

Images began to flood her mind. Stryder on top of her in the kitchen, their bodies slick with sweat, her cries of pleasure filling her mind so strongly, she felt her body respond with desire. Her sitting around crying, wondering where he was. Them on the picnic, them learning her powers. Him throwing the ring box and vanishing. It was on a loop. Over and over. She could barely slip thoughts of her own past the emotions the images brought up.

It was torture. Ciara felt tears slipping down her cheeks, noticed as the cell plummeted back into darkness and heard the cell door squeak closed, but couldn't do anything to stop it. She was trapped, and all she could do was pray that the link between her and Stryder was broken because, with each scene, his name was on her lips, on her mind. She feared the worst as she tucked her legs to her chest, and with her eyes wide open, stared into the darkness of her cell as the images attacked her.

She only able to conjure one thought of her own,I'm sorry, Stryder, but I need you to find me.

His fist connectedwith the head of the demon closest to him on his lawn. The inferior creature went sailing and landed in a heap. He'd been fighting with his control for the past two days. She was missing, and he could fucking hear her crying out for help, just crying out. The tones were different. Sometimes she sounded angry, passionate, even scared, but he couldn't sense her. Whatever was going on, her location was blacked out.

“Stryder, chill, man. We can't build an army to attack if you keep disabling them.” Jameson's voice was calm, cautious.

“And I don't give a rat’s ass about a fucking army. I just want to find her!” The muscle cords in his neck were stretched, tension the only thing fueling him. He hadn't eaten, hadn't slept either since it had begun.

“Dude, chill out, or I'm going to be forced to fucking sucker punch you. I like Ciara and want to get her free just as bad as you. But don't you think it's weird that she's calling for help, and you can't find her?”

“No, I don't think it's fucking weird. The Initiative has her. They're just torturing her. She probably can't control whatever it is about the link that lets it work. If they spill one drop of her blood, I swear to heaven and hell, I will link to War and start something no one will survive.

“You sound like an idiot. A babbling idiot, and if you hit me, I swear I'll tap into Pestilence and lay your ass up with some disease for at least a month.”

He growled but didn't want to test it out. Jameson only used his connection when he really meant business. “Well, if you're so smart, what is it then?” He heard her shout his name again, passionately that time. Blood surged through his body as he unconsciously thought about what she looked like when she said his name like that.

“Maybe she doesn't want to be found. I mean come on. They've tried to kill her before. Not take her. Why keep her alive now? Maybe she's already dea—”

His fist connected with his brother's chin in an uppercut so fast, Jameson launched backward. His eyes were a dark black as he stomped forward.

“Chill. The. Fuck. Out.” His eyes returned to their normal color, and he continued his theory, ignoring the scene that had just happened. “Since you didn't like that last one. Maybe it's a trap, and she can't help but reach out to you because of that bond you have. But maybe, just perhaps, she doesn't want you to come and get hurt, so she's locking you out.”

He snorted.Fuck. That might make sense.“Doesn't fucking matter, Jameson. She's mine. I don't care what the hell she smelled like, or that she basically turned me down on my ass. She's mine, and I will get to her, no matter what.”

Demarcus picked that instant to flash back with at least a hundred demons in his wake. “Reinforcements,” was all he said as he walked by the two of them and into the house.

Stryder was getting ready to tell Jameson off again, when, out of nowhere, the link flared. A cavern. She was in a cell and seemed to be alone. She appeared uninjured, but the look on her face terrified him. She was rocking back and forth against the wall, eyes wide open and her mouth moving slowly, saying his name over and over. Then, just like all the other times, a doorway opened.

“I've never been so fucking happy to see shimmering in all my life. Demarcus! Fasheem! I've got her.” He didn't even wait for Jameson to pick his jaw up off the floor. He raced forward and was in her cell just as quickly as he could be.

Closing the distance between them, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her off the floor. Her eyes went wild, her arms shoved him away, and he just held her tighter.

“Ciara, what's wrong? What's going on?”

She cried out, and he turned, the doorway had closed behind them.

“Ciara, reopen that. Reopen that now.”

“Yes, yes you need to leave.”

Tears streaked her face, and he realized Jameson was right. He'd just barreled headfirst into a trap. He didn't care. His mouth found hers, and he tugged her against him. She melted into him, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth as he felt her arms slide around his neck and her mouth open to him. His cock pushed at his zipper, and he ground his hips against her as his hand found her breast and began to knead it. She was safe, and the scenario around them faded as he let himself just be with her for a moment.

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