The Darkest Touch. Gena Showalter

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ second later, the foundation dropped out from under his feet. No, not true. It hadn’t dropped; he had been catapulted into the air where he hovered, his limbs pulled taut...and tauter...until both of his shoulders were jerked from their sockets. His skin began to tear. Sharp pains, everywhere. Any moment, he would lose each of his limbs.

      The perverse thing about the experience? He liked the pressure, savored it.

      “How are you doing this?” he asked through panting breaths.

      She blew him a kiss.

      Hardcore. Like foreplay for warriors.

       I’m a sick man. Har har.

      “Right now,” she said, “you are experiencing an extreme bout of helplessness. The same helplessness Mari must have felt as your fever pillaged and plundered her immune system.”

      Forget the pressure. Guilt choked him.

      Keeley’s chin trembled. “You made her cry, warrior. Sometimes I swear I can still hear her sobbing.”

      He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Do it, then. End me.” He deserved it. And she would be satisfied, his friends safe from her wrath.

      “So quickly?” she asked. “No. We’re just getting started.”

      Some of the pressure eased.

      “Come on!” he shouted as his wounds healed. “What are you waiting for? You won’t get another chance like this.”

      “Actually, I’ll get as many chances as I like.”

      “That confident in your ability?”

      “Perhaps I’m that confident in your lack of ability.”

      The taunt burned so badly he could have used a little aloe vera on his soul. Always on the bench, never in the game. Forcing an easy tone, he said, “I’ve been nice to you on account of your loss and everything—”

      “Which was your fault!” she spat, the pressure increasing all over again.

      “—but my goodwill has officially run out.”

      An animalistic roar suddenly echoed through the forest, interrupting the beginning of a long, rambling speech that would have had no point but that of postponement, giving him a chance to think of a way out of this.

      Torin dropped, crashing into the ground. Even as he lost his breath, he jumped to his feet. Behind him, twigs snapped. Limbs slapped together. Another roar sounded, this one louder, closer.

      Something was headed this way—and fast.

      He’d been in these woods for days, and there’d been no sign of life. Well, other than the carnivorous plants. Now this?

      He looked to Keeley. She put her hands on her hips, every bit the annoyed female. Funny thing. Even that was sexy.

      He punched the side of his skull in an effort to clear his thoughts, and it actually helped. He palmed a dagger he’d brought from home, ready to face this newest challenge.

      The creature arrived, surrounded by a cloud of dust. Realization hit—this is an Unspoken One. Half man, half beast. Rather than hair, snakes danced and hissed from his scalp. And rather than skin, he had what looked to be the charred remains of fur. Two long fangs protruded over his bottom lip like sabers, reaching his chin. Though he had human hands, his feet were razor-sharp hooves.

      His black gaze roved over Torin, cataloging every detail, and his forked tongue stroked over his lips. “Mine.”

      * * *

      KEELEY STUDIED HER newest opponent. Such an ugly thing. The Unspoken One must have heard the prison fall and come running, determined to find out what had happened.

      Now he appeared eager to have a nice Torin dinner.

      Get in line. She might not be a carnivore like the Unspoken One, but she would have liked a nibble—or ten.

      Stop flirting with the idea of seduction and fight! She thought of all the times this creature and his siblings had invaded the prison, frantic to break through the bars and feast on the prisoners. Though they’d never gotten past the bars, they had reached through and managed to grab hold of those who’d stepped too close; she’d heard the horrendous fruits of their labors. The screams. The pleas for mercy that were never granted. The victorious cackles of glee.

      Payback was going to hurt.

      As she prepared to render her first strike, Torin flew through the dust and sliced the tip of a dagger across the creature’s throat...only to disappear. Where had he gone? He had to be nearby. According to Galen, Torin was not an immortal capable of flashing.

      The Unspoken One remained on his feet, healing quickly and growing angrier.

      Torin reappeared and struck—again and again and again—inflicting more damage every time. The Unspoken One tried to latch on to him. Tried being the key word. Torin displayed excitement rather than fear, always ducking at the perfect moment.

      As much as she hated to admit it, the warrior’s masterful skill impressed her.

      The problem was he wouldn’t make actual contact with the beast or throw a punch. Wouldn’t even kick out his legs. Determined to prevent a plague? Even among the vile Unspoken Ones?

      Maybe he truly did feel bad about what he’d done to Mari—Keeley flattened her hand against her stomach to slow the sudden churn of sickness—but that wouldn’t change his fate. It couldn’t. She had one redeeming quality: her integrity. She’d promised to end him, and she would.

      The Unspoken One swiped a claw at Torin, and this time Keeley took it personally.

      Torin was hers to kill. No one else’s. Anyone who so much as thought about harming him automatically signed their own death warrant.

      “I’ll give you a five-second head start,” she shouted to the Unspoken One. “I suggest you run—fast.”

      At the sound of her voice, the creature froze. His black gaze swung to her and narrowed. “You.”

      “Four.” Keeley fluffed her hair. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about my fondness for viscera and my distaste for showing mercy. Well, I assure you, they’re both true. Just ask your brother. Oh, wait. You can’t. He approached my cell and I gutted him. Three.”

      Torin dove through the air, slicing through the Unspoken One’s eye. A bellow of pain echoed. The beast at last got his paws on Torin, batting him in the chest. Torin soared over what remained of the drawbridge into the murky moat below.

      Death warrant signed, sealed and about to be delivered. “Two. One.”

      “Always thought you’d be the tastiest,” the beast crowed, returning his attention to her. He took a step toward her, and though a hundred yards separated them one moment, he was in front of her the next. He towered over her, his fetid breath fanning her face, burning her skin. “Finally get СКАЧАТЬ