Page 29 of Taken By Raider Kings
Still, that musk smell was so very soothing.Something about it made her feel a little steadier.How was that for completely, totally insane?
“She usually comes to my place,” Zach supplied.“But this weekend she wasn’t feeling well, so I brought her takeout, tried to keep her in bed.”
And Christ on acrutch,but his voice dropped, and he made the last bit sound… well, positively indecent.Her legs all but failed completely, and now Zach was holding her up without any apparent effort.As if she needed a reminder of how freakishly, inhumanlystronghe was.
“Where would your place be, Mr.Sellers?”The detective’s eyes turned suspiciously sharp behind their muddiness, and Sophie began to feel faint.Her head was full of rushing noise, and she had the urge to simply sink into the floor.If a huge cavern had opened up then and there, she would have dropped in with only a small, grateful murmur.
“About four blocks away.Why?”He actuallysoundedinnocent.It was hard to imagine him growling like a huge, very angry dog.Or holding her up against the wall, or pinning her to a bed.
But then, Sophie knew all about men who could sound innocent when questioned, didn’t she.
“Just curious.”The detective examined her for a long moment, and his face softened, lines deepening at the corners of his eyes, bracketing his bitter-drawn mouth.“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.You look worn out.Hope your fella here takes good care of you.”
“I intend to.”Zach loomed over both of them, suddenly seeming taller, and Sophie blinked.The lights in the hall were doing funny things now, shadows weaving between them like gauze scarves.Which could have been the water in her eyes.Or the panic attack still reverberating in her nerves.Or— “Anything else we can help you with, Detective?”
“Not at the moment.”Andreeson was still watching Sophie’s face.
Her cheek throbbed.Did she look like a beaten woman?She’d had plenty of practice.I must look guilty.Oh, Lucy, I’m so sorry.It should have been me.
A long, heart-stopping moment later, the detective tipped Zach a curious little salute, nodded in her direction.“Good night, then.”
“Good night,” she managed, faintly.Zach pulled her away, sweeping the door shut as Andreeson turned away.He locked both dead bolts, put the chain on, and took another two steps back, still dragging her along as if she weighed nothing.Paused, his head cocked again, as the detective’s footsteps retreated down the hall.
“They’ll probably let him pass,” he murmured, and made a quick movement, letting go of her shoulders as he bent to pick up her purse.Sophie teetered, half-fell against the wall, and let out a long breath she hadn’t been aware of holding.“Not worth their time to kill a cop.But we’vegotto get out of here.”His gaze swept down her body, a curiously impersonal glance, and Sophie braced her shoulder against the wall even harder.“Good work, by the way.The dewy-eyed innocent thing looks real nice on you.”
“I thought you were…”Going to kill him.Going to kill me.Going to do something awful.
He thrust the black purse into her hands.“I figured he was fishing for your alibi, sweets.He suspects something, he just doesn’t know what.So long as you stick with that story—that you were with me and we were here—he can’t do anything.Not like it matters.We have to get out.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”Instead of ringing and declarative, the words came out thin and tired.Her head swam.“I think I’m going to pass out.”
“Pass out later.”He grabbed her arm and reached for the door again.“Right now we need to move.”
The ceiling fixture in her hall dimmed, and the bulb in the living room began to make a strange fizzling sound.
fourteen
They’ll be watchingthe fire escapes—it’s what I would do.His world of options was rapidly narrowing, and she wasn’t making it any easier by becoming limp deadweight whenever he slowed enough for her to lean against anything.
The reek was rough and clotted in his mouth, an old-rust corruption of spilled blood and rotting spice that raised almost every hackle he had.Then there washerfragrance—ice and moonlight sharpened into the marvelous soothing of a triggered shaman,histriggered shaman.With a wide wine-dark river of fear boiling underneath, rasping against his nerves until he didn’t know whether to scream, run, or Change.
It didn’t help that Sophie was pale, visibly trembling, and all the sharp intelligence had gone out of those lovely grey eyes.Her glasses were still shiny, her hair a wild mass of electric, beautiful curls, and the grey pencil skirt and sheer nylons over those sweetly curved legs was enough to make a man’s train of thought derail.But one glance at her pale, terrified face, fever-spots of wild color high on her perfect cheeks—one slightly swollen, as if she’d been slapped—and the way she looked anywhere but at him, almost cowering if he made a sudden movement…
It was enough to make any man feel like tearing down a few brick walls to get at whatever had turned her into this.
Except he’d done a lot of it, by handling her in exactly the wrong way.
Her apartment spoke volumes.One broken-down, tattered armchair.A print of some painting that someone had probably taken pity on her with.One mattress and a pile of mismatched blankets, one pillow, five library books stacked next to the makeshift bed.Empty cupboards save for two packages of ramen, one bag of bulk oatmeal.Nothing in her fridge but a quart of milk, four bags of frozen peas, and a half-empty bottle of ketchup.There was some kind of froufrou scented candle on the kitchen counter, half-burned and probably a gift as well.
Five grey suits in her closet.Two pairs of sweats and one lone pair of jeans.He hadn’t gone poking through her underwear drawer, but he’d be willing to bet it was empty as the rest of her apartment.
He knew what poverty and fear smelled like, and the sad little place reeked of both.There were two boxes of personal papers in her closet, neatly labeled in a round Palmer script, and he’d taken a peek at the one namedDivorce.
The bloodless language of the law almost managed to cover up something capable of making him nauseous.
With the beast screaming in his blood, he had handled her exactly, completely wrong.Time to start remedying that—if, of course, he could get her out of this deathtrap of an apartment building.
There was only one way to go.He had to half-carry her up the maintenance stairs, both because he was using inhuman speed and because her legs kept giving out.She was in low black heels he’d be willing to bet were her second and last pair, since her first were still in the van, and he hadn’t had time to get her into sneakers.God only knew where the outfit she’d had on a couple nights ago had come from.
