Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 118374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Devon pursed her lips. She hadn’t known he had that delightful ability. It wouldn’t be so useful in battle, but it would be real helpful when it came to torture.
“In other words, Roth, this process can be as painless or agonizing as you want it to be,” Tanner went on. “Your death won’t be painless—I won’t lie about that. But even a sadist would be sickened by the sort of pain I’ll put you through if you don’t quit lying to us.”
She almost shivered. Damn but the guy could be scary. As for Roth … Shit, she hadn’t thought he could get any paler. It was like every drop of blood just left his face. His leg muscles seemed to tighten, and she had the feeling he’d have tried to flee if he could have moved.
“I only agreed to broker the deal because I knew the attempts to take her would fail!” he burst out. Roth jerked with a loud cry as three ugly rake marks appeared on the side of his face. Devon heard his skin tear, saw his blood seep to the surface. And then the wounds healed, leaving no sign that they were ever there.
Her brows shot up in surprise. Her feline twitched its tail, impressed. “You didn’t give a rat’s ass if they failed or not,” Devon accused.
Breaths bursting in and out of him, Roth shook his head hard. “No, I planned to contact Jolene and tell her everything if someone managed to get their hands on you, I swear!”
There was the horrid sound of skin tearing as Roth once again jerked against the rope. Claw marks spanned his upper chest, deeper and more jagged than the last. Yet, they healed just as quickly.
“Who came to you to broker the deal?” Devon asked.
A drop of sweat dripped down the side of Roth’s face. “I never met him before. He’s a cambion. A stray. He said he wouldn’t harm you.”
“His name?” demanded Jolene.
He hesitated, averting his gaze. Then he cried out again as his head whipped back and rake marks appeared on his throat—they’d sliced so deep she thought he’d choke on his own blood. But then they healed.
Jolene leaned toward him slightly. “His name?” The words seemed to bounce off the walls they echoed so loud.
Roth took a shuddering breath and rasped, “Ryder Flanagan.”
Devon didn’t recognize the name. There were three possibilities, as she saw it. Sheridan had used a different name, Flanagan was the person behind all this, or Flanagan had merely been used as a conduit just like Sheridan. “Describe him.”
Panting, Roth swallowed. “He had a buzz cut. Tall. Well-built.”
Not Sheridan then, Devon thought.
“Where do we find Flanagan?” Tanner asked Roth, the urge to hunt once more pounding through him.
“I don’t have his full address. He said he lived in Nevada.” Roth licked his lips. “I tried warning him not to go through with it; tried telling him about all the people who’d try to avenge the hellcat, but he cut me off. He said he knew more about her than I did. Said he knew all her secrets, including where she’s hiding her real mother, and that ‘that bitch Pamela needed to pay for the pain she’d caused.’”
Everything in Tanner stilled. Hiding? As far as he knew, Devon’s biological mother was dead. He looked at his hellcat, and his hackles rose. She was staring at Roth, her expression carefully blank, her posture rigid.
The fuck?
And then it occurred to him that Devon had never once told him that her mother was dead. He’d taken “gone” to mean deceased, and she hadn’t corrected him. Maybe he had no right to be pissed that she’d kept such a secret from him, but Tanner found that he was. His chest expanded as he took in a deep, centering breath. Later, he’d question Devon and Jolene later.
He turned back to Roth. “Did you notice anything strange about Flanagan?”
“He moved all slow and clunky,” Roth replied, sweating copiously now. “Like he didn’t have good muscle control.”
Which meant that Flanagan was most likely used as a conduit, just like Sheridan.
Sensing that Tanner was done, his hound pushed for supremacy with a feral growl. It didn’t want to take over Tanner’s body, though. No. It wanted the freedom to rip Roth apart with its own teeth and claws. And Tanner decided to let it.
Muscles tightening in readiness for the shift, Tanner said, “You’ve been very helpful, Roth. Now it’s time for you to die.”
Devon flinched as a wave of Tanner’s power swept outwards, carrying with it the faintest scent of—oh fuck—brimstone. And she knew what he meant to do before he even started shedding his clothes. Shit.
“Jolene, edge over to the wall,” urged Devon even as she grabbed the woman’s arm and subtly herded her aside. Her heart pounded as bones popped and cracked. And then Tanner was gone, and his hellhound stood in his place.