Sweet Ruin(35)

“We’re in Tortua, a pleasure den,” Rune said. “I maintain a residence here. This is the observatory.”

Were any of the freaks below observing up her dress?

Reading her mind, he said, “Each floor can view the ones below, but not the ones above.”

She craned her head up. A solid dome stretched overhead.

“I’ve got the coveted top floor. Welcome to your new home.”

Wait, Rune meant to keep her in a pleasure den? “In other words, you have digs in a whorehouse. If the dark fey fits . . .”

A muscle ticked in his wide jaw.

Oooh, did I jab a tender spot?

“A wiser vampire would be convincing me to spare her life. Not insulting me.”

“You won’t kill me.” How could he? She’d taken six slugs to the face. Unless a wooden stake to the heart could end her?

“Will I not?” he asked.

“You like my bite too much.” Not that she’d be giving it to him again. No matter how close she’d come in that basement. She’d been tempted only because she hadn’t drunk in twenty-four hours, and she’d used up a lot of energy.

“I could replace it with another vampire’s.”

His dismissive tone made her nervous. Last night he’d all but told Jo her life depended on keeping him interested.

She’d seen how easily he’d gone from a tender look to a lethal one.

However, there was a surefire way to protect herself from death and Thad from assassination: take out Rune first. “How many people have you killed?” she asked him.

“Can’t count that high.”

Figured. She’d have to get the better of him. Would he prove as hard to kill as she’d been?

“Come.” He turned toward a solid brick wall, pushing a symbol carved into stone. Bricks disappeared to form a doorway. A portal!

A strange memory flashed into her consciousness like a lighthouse’s beam—too bright one instant, then gone the next.

But she remembered a place of total chaos, flames, and earthquakes. Though winds had blurred her vision, she’d seen a pale hand raised to the sky. Above, stars had streaked across the night. Behind Jo, there’d been a wall of portals.

No, they were . . . black holes.

They’d been arrayed in tiers one on top of another, black upon black. Like spiders’ eyes. Someone had screamed, “It’s worldend!”

Was that Rune’s memory? Or hers?

Before Jo could delve deeper, he forced her through the portal. It closed behind her with a hiss.

A stone bridge extended before them, lit by torches and flanked with railings. More symbols had been carved into various stones.

He unlocked the cuff around his wrist and reached for hers. He was just going to undo it? For real?

He stashed the restraints in his pocket, then seemed to be awaiting her escape. Nice knowing you, sucker. She began to trace back to the Quarter. She’d gotten a good start—when she hit some kind of boundary and bounced right back.

Rune laughed at her. He dug that trinket from his pocket—another point he’d scored against her. With a smirk, he tossed it in the air, caught it in his big palm, then pocketed it again.

“You’re such a dick.” She couldn’t believe she’d been infatuated with him.

“I have wards surrounding this entire residence. I’m the only one who can travel past them. Things inside my lair stay inside, including the sound of your screams—in case you thought to call for help. Even if someone heard you, they couldn’t enter, because anything outside remains outside.”

Say she got lucky and took Rune out; without help—or the ability to escape—she’d be trapped here.

“Ah, and there went your ridiculous plan to kill me.” He dragged her along. “I see you working out all the angles.”

Not yet all the angles. Could she ghost inside the boundaries? If so, maybe she could ghost inside him? He could never shake her. And eventually he’d have to leave this place.

Her heels were loud as they crossed the bridge. She gazed over the railing, seeing only darkness—as dark as a black hole.

She refused to let Rune know how freaked out she was. “Where is Tortua? The South Pacific or something? Didn’t they film Survivor here? Fire represents life.”

“Oh, you are a long, long way from Earth, dove. But you’ll like it here—it’s perpetual night.”

Not on Earth. She’d just have to . . . she’d have to think about that later.

He touched his flattened palm to an elaborate symbol on a pillar, and a second portal opened into a huge bedroom suite.

The inviting space had been decorated in earth tones—probably not called that here—and was a thousand times better than her own “home.” Still, she said, “Not bad, I guess. Though the suite looks like it belongs in a blueblood’s hunting lodge, not a blackblood’s brothel penthouse.”