Unholy Cravings Page 2

  Urian opened his eyes and glanced at Nergal. The deahman nodded and drew his sword. He had heard it too.

  Urian pulled out his blade and crept over to the bushes nearby. He came within about twenty paces when two figures burst from behind a bush and took off into the night.

  The twins. “Get them!” Urian started to run.

  Nergal swore and followed. “We can’t let them get away. They know too much.”

  Urian cursed as he weaved around the trees of the common. They had to silence the twins before they located Darien and told him what they had seen. The last thing he needed was his former boss up his ass. He didn’t want to deal with Darien until he was good and ready.

  How the hell did the twins get here? No deahman can pass through the portal without using the power buried in one of the shards from the shattered stone. That meant…

  Shit, they had one of the shards.

  “Donar! Soren!” Urian roared. “Stop, it’s me.”

  They rounded another corner and the portal into hell came into view. If Soren and Donar crossed that portal in the alley, then he was screwed. There were thousands of places they could hide in the Netherworld, thousands of rips in the fabric that they could cross back to Earth. He had to stop them.

  Urian’s strength was growing. He could feel the seductive black magic from the spirit running through his veins. Perhaps he could use it to persuade the twins to his way of thinking. Together they could kill their former leader and everyone Darien held dear.

  Do it. The spirit’s voice echoed inside his head. The voice was heady, persuasive. Urian’s own inner darkness purred with erotic pleasure. Urian cried out and pointed his sword at the backs of the twins in front of him. Ancient words fell from his lips.

  “Ní mar a shiltear a bhítear.”

  The portal shimmered, then the colorful mist within the large oval stopped swirling and turned gray.

  The portal was frozen, at least for the moment. No one would be able to pass. Urian knew that the magic he cast was fleeting. Soon the mist would begin to color and swirl, as if it was a drop of oil in water, and passage could be taken once more. He had only precious moments to capture the twins before the portal would reopen and they’d be lost to him.

  “Stop!”

  The twins wouldn’t listen.

  “Use your magic,” Nergal shouted from beside him.

  The twins stopped short of the portal and paused for a brief moment in confusion. Another foreign phrase tumbled from Urian’s lips as he pointed the sword at their backs.

  Black mist shot out through the tip of the sword and sped through the air. The twins turned, their eyes widening in fear as the mist hurled toward them. They withdrew their swords in a feeble attempt to battle the magic. It was no use.

  Urian’s power slammed into their bodies, tossing them up into the air as if they weighed no more than a feather. A loud blast echoed through the air as the brick wall behind the portal exploded and bits of brick, dirt and dust spread out in all directions. Urian and Nergal were forced to cover their mouths and duck. Dust, dirt and smoke filled the air, obscuring their vision.

  “Shit.” Urian didn’t want to kill them, not when there was a chance he could turn them against Darien. He and Nergal continued to run as the air started to clear of debris.

  From somewhere far off a siren sounded. All of the noise had alerted the local authorities. They didn’t have much time before the police arrived. Although Urian had no doubt he could take the entire Boston Police department, it would take a lot of time and effort, and at the moment there were more important things to do.

  Like seeking out his revenge on Darien Lange.

  Urian and Nergal finally reached the portal as the dust cleared. The mist was still frozen, and the portal was still closed. Urian looked around on the ground for the twins’ broken bodies.

  “Where did they go?” Nergal asked. “No one could walk away from a blast like that.”

  Urian retraced his steps, going over and over the small alley where the portal had been erected. What the hell happened to them?

  Nergal stopped his searching and swore as he sheathed his sword.

  Urian looked up at his friend. “What?”

  “It looks like our twins might have had some help.” He pointed at the ground. “You better look at this.”

  Urian crossed the alley and stood next to his friend. There were two large disturbances on the ground, presumably from the bodies of the twins. There were also two unique sets of footprints, once small and slender, the other quite large, larger than the twins, larger than Urian himself.

  “Let’s follow them.”

  Urian pulled the shard out of his pocket and stared at it, considering. Who would make those footprints? Why would they help the twins? Was it a trap?

  There was a creaking noise off to his right. Urian looked up and saw the portal mist begin to swirl once more.

  “No,” Urian said after a moment. “First we’ll find a stronger deahman to come with us, one who will be able to help if this is a trap.”

  “Good thinking. I know just the deahman you need.”

  Urian raised his brows. “You do?”

  Nergal smiled. “Of course. Those two will never be able to resist the killing machine I have in mind.” He placed his hand over Urian’s on the shard. “Victory will be ours, brother.”

  Urian knew what Nergal was offering. The slave wanted a prominent place in Urian’s new regime. Urian had no interest in deahman politics. If trusting Nergal meant that he could get Darien’s head on a platter sooner, then he’d do it.

  “You have a deal, my friend.” Urian squeezed the deahman slave’s fingers.

  “So be it.” Nergal nodded and let go of Urian. “Follow me.”

  Together they crossed the portal back into hell.

  Chapter Two

  Tara wrapped her arms under the body and looped her hands under the armpits. She crouched down low over the man’s head and pulled with all of her strength. The effort robbed her of breath and made her legs shake. After a few moments she let go and fell backward onto the hotel room floor in exhaustion.

  “That man weighs a ton.”

  “Not a ton, only about two-hundred twenty pounds,” Samir said from behind her.

  Tara brushed her jet-black hair away from her face and stared at the unconscious man before her. Even sleeping, the man appeared to be worried about something. His sharp, angular features wrinkled around the eyes and mouth and cuts and bruises marred his otherwise handsome face. She brushed his long, blond hair away from his forehead, revealing a small, diamond-studded earring. “Which twin do you think he is?”

  Samir walked over and stared down at the man. “I’m not sure. Then again, I’m not the one who has been studying them.”

  This was true. Tara was the one with the mission to bring the twins back to Darien and the Iatros. Samir was just along for the ride. She focused on the man before her and tried to remember her notes.

  This twin appeared long and lean, and Tara guessed that he relied on his speed more than his brawn in a fight. She immediately felt a kinship with him since she had to do the same. At only five-foot-four, she had to be faster, because she sure as hell couldn’t beat a deahman in a contest of strength. They were both trained fighters, both fighting for a cause that seemed more and more helpless with each passing hour.

  She leaned over his ear. “You were damn lucky Samir and I were there watching you,” she whispered. “Donar. You’re Donar, aren’t you?”

  Of course, he didn’t respond. That blast back in the alley threw those two men off the brick walls as though they were ping-pong balls. They were lucky that they were only unconscious. It didn’t matter, Tara knew that she was right. Of the two, Donar was the brains, while Soren was the brawn. No one would ever dare call Donar scrawny, however. He was chiseled in his own right, just less bulk than his brother.

  “Are you sure that these are the twins you were looking for?” Samir scooped the man up
in his arms with ease. Tara watched as her friend strode over to the large king-sized bed and dumped him next to the other body.

  “They have to be the twins. They have the earrings.”

  “Lots of men wear earrings.” He pointed to the small gold hoop in his own ear. “Aren’t they supposed to have scars or something?”

  “Tattoos.” If her intelligence was correct, each man received one earring and one tattoo as an initiation into some gang.

  “Well, maybe we should look for the tats.”

  “No, don’t bother. They’re the right ones.” Tara didn’t really want to go looking for the tattoos, considering where they were located. It would be like violating them in their sleep. Not that touching them was unappealing. Quite the opposite. Who wouldn’t want to roll around with chiseled bodies, blond hair and kissable lips? She just didn’t want to do it with Samir watching her.

  “How do you know they’re the right ones?” Samir asked as he eyed the closest man. “I think we need to check.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. His comment was so typically Samir. The man was ready to hump anything that moved on a moment’s notice. Male or female, it didn’t matter. All that mattered to him was the sense of adventure, the pursuit of pleasure.

  “No,” she said.

  “You’re no fun.”

  “No, I’m not.” Tara felt a little possessive toward the men, and didn’t like the thought of Samir touching them so intimately. She had been studying the twins for six months and felt she knew them inside and out. Tara had memorized their pictures, running her finger over their outline and imagining herself pressed up against all of that hard muscle, cocooned in all of that warmth and strength…

  “Tara? Are you okay?”

  Tara shook herself from her thoughts. “Yes, I’m fine. These have to be the men we’re looking for. There’s no other explanation why those deahmans are so interested in them.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Samir stood at the foot of the bed and studied the men, his large, round face turning hard with concentration. “I’d hate for this to be a trap.”

  Tara walked over and stood next to Samir. They both watched the unconscious twins in silence, and Tara tried to think of what to do next.

  The men before her were twins, yet different. The one she had tried to carry was long and lean, the other broader. While one’s face was thin, the other’s was wider and looked chiseled from stone. If the leaner one was quick, the larger one was all strength. Together they would make a deadly combination.

  Heat sparked in her lower abdomen as she imagined herself pressed in between those bodies, touching each dip and rise of muscle. What would their touch feel like? What would they taste like?

  “Tara, are you okay?”

  Tara tore her gaze away from the men and frowned at Samir. “These are the twins. I’ve seen them before, remember?”

  “That was along time ago. People change, especially people who have been to hell and back.”

  He was referring to the day Soren, Donar and the rest of the FBI team went into hell. She and two other Iatros had tried to stop them, but the team had gotten by their defenses and had gone through the portal. This was the first time Tara had seen the twins since then. She doubted that they’d even remember her, although not a day went by that she didn’t think of them.

  Tara pulled the pictures from the right pocket in her leather jacket. She carried them with her everywhere, just in case.

  “These are from their file. Here, take a look and tell me it’s not them.” She pushed the pictures into his hands.

  Samir rubbed his fingers over his stubbled chin as he looked back and forth from the pictures to the men on the bed. “The evidence is compelling.”

  “More than compelling.” Tara shifted her gaze from her friend to the men on the bed. “I better heal them. There wasn’t time to do anything back at the portal.”

  “Yeah, especially since I had to carry the three of you out of there.” Samir handed her back the photo.

  “How was I supposed to know that the deahman would know to use the ancient spell?” She pocketed the portal and frowned at her friend. “It wasn’t as if I was broadcasting that I was an Iatros.”

  “No, you weren’t.”

  Frustration burned deep within Tara’s chest. Every time one of those damn monsters stopped the portal from swirling, Tara and the rest of the Iatros in the vicinity lost their ability to move. It wasn’t until the portal started swirling again that she was able to help Samir carry the men away. It was one of the drawbacks to having her spirit tied to the portal.

  Tara shrugged out of her jacket and dumped it and her sword on the bed. “Let me do my work.”

  Samir stepped back from the bed. “Don’t you think you should call your contact first?”

  “No. There isn’t time. I have to stabilize them first.” Tara pulled off her tank top until she was in nothing but her bra.

  “Purple?”

  She looked down at her neon purple bra. “Are you complaining?”

  Samir chuckled and shook his head. “Not at all.”

  She didn’t think so. Although she and Samir were only friends, she knew that Samir would have sex with her if she asked him to. He was that kind of guy.

  They didn’t have that kind of friendship however. Tara needed more than just a fuck. She needed the emotional pull from her partner, a pull that could only be found between an Iatros and their true spirit-mate.

  She frowned at her friend. “Stand back.”

  Samir moved over by the door to the hotel room. Tara closed her eyes and let her wings extend from her back. Bright light filled the room and she watched Samir shield his eyes. She knew he was seeing their full color, evidence of her power.

  “I’ll never get used to those butterfly things.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “I am not a butterfly. I’m an Iatros.”

  “Same thing. All of you magical creatures creep me out.” Samir said the words with a smile, but Tara knew that he was only half-joking. Samir hated magic of any kind. He didn’t trust it. Tara didn’t trust it either, that was why they had become fast friends. Normally Tara liked to rely on steel and speed to get the job done. Unfortunately, the twins could be dying and there was little choice but to use her gifts to help them.

  She couldn’t let the twins die, not after she had worked so hard to find them.

  “You should probably remove your other weapons before you begin. You don’t want one of them waking up and stabbing you with your own knife.” Samir moved over to the blue armchair and swung his legs up over the side.

  Tara glanced at him. “You’re probably right.” Damn him.

  “You know it.” He winked and pointed at her. Men.

  Samir was cautious. Tara liked that about him. It was one of the reasons why she kept him close. They’d formed an instant bond, and in the beginning Tara thought that perhaps he might be the one she had been searching for, her spirit-mate.

  It didn’t take long for her to realize that her first instincts were wrong. Bonding to him had been a total disaster. They were great friends, but incompatible in so many other ways. There was no spark, no sexual attraction. Both of them preferred to be alone, not answering to anyone else.

  Tara stared at his gold hoop earrings and stubbled chin and wondered if there was a woman alive that could tame that man’s wandering heart. Even their friendship was subjected to his whims. Samir came and went when it pleased him, living for the next adventure. Tara knew that as soon as she brought the twins back to her queen, Samir would leave, only to show up when she needed him once more.

  It was the way they both liked it.

  Tara removed her knives, throwing stars and other weapons, then tossed them on the second king-sized bed. Samir raised his brow at the large pile.

  “Impressive.”

  “I think you better leave. I need to concentrate.”

  He yawned and then stood. “Good thinking. I’ll go down and get us coffee. I can also scope th
e place out and make sure it’s clear of the pale-faces.”

  “Make mine a mochacchino,” she said.

  “I’m not sure the vending machine does that fancy stuff you like.”

  She frowned and waved her hand in the air. “Cream and sugar, then. Lots of it.”

  Samir nodded. “I’ll call you on my cell if I see or hear anything.”

  “Okay.” Tara waited for him to close the door and then turned her attention back to the men on the bed. While Samir didn’t spark any desire, just looking at these men made her thong damp and her nipples tighten.

  It was obvious that they were related. Each was taller than the average man. Not as tall as Samir’s six-foot-five frame, but close. The leaner one had medium-length golden hair, wavy and layered. He reminded her of her favorite singer, Keith Urban. The broader man wore his shorter, in a James Bond sort of look. She wondered if their hair would feel the same when it sifted through her fingers.

  No, she had a job to do. It would be just her luck if both men died on her while she sat there ruminating on how their bodies would feel pressed against hers.

  Tara pushed aside her desire and sat on the bed. “I still think you’re Donar,” she said to the thinner man with medium-length hair, the one she had tried to move herself earlier. He looked to be slightly older than the other and a little more worse for wear. Did he suffer more in hell? It was difficult to tell.

  She shifted her gaze to the other man on the bed. “And you are Soren.” His features were more relaxed, more carefree. Tara leaned over Donar and touched Soren’s cheek. She closed her eyes and flexed her wings, then sent her magic into his body, searching for any wounds she might find. She met an inky blackness, a darkness so deep, so thick, that it stole her breath.

  It was the taint. When a human accidentally touched a deahman or an object with deahman power, there was a chance that the black magic would enter them and alter their psyche. There, the blackness would feed on the good, engulfing it and growing day by day until the poor human would become a deahman himself.

  Anger welled up inside of Tara. She had seen many people succumb to the taint inside of them. Friends, family, relatives. It was a slow and painful process, one she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. She forced her hand away and opened her eyes. She had to save them from a fate worse than death, but how? She stood and walked around the bed.