Immortals After Dark 05 - Dark Needs at Nights Edge

clearing near the folly.
    She drew up short at the sight of three mangled bodies on the ground. Five other beings, all tall and brawny, circled Conrad. His lips were drawn back from his fangs, baring them in his rage. Was he motioning for his opponents to come closer?
    In a flash of lightning, she made out the black symbols on their bared backs. The Kapsliga.
    They took turns lunging forward with their swords raised. Every time they lashed out, the circle would tighten, giving Conrad less space to maneuver. Why didn’t he trace away?
    When one demon sank his sword into Conrad’s arm, he bellowed with rage, his fist shooting out. With a brutal hit, Conrad sent him spinning unconscious to the ground, snatching the demon’s weapon as he fell.
    With his uninjured arm he swung the sword down, decapitating the foe. Now he has a weapon. She was transfixed by the harsh lines of his face, by the savagery in his expression. When the dam burst, his eyes flooding with red, she knew he was going to kill them all. She would only hinder him. Though it went against every instinct urging her to help him, she began to back away—
    Conrad caught sight of her. At that exact moment, she heard breaths behind her; an arm slid around her neck.

    Tarut had Néomi.
    Conrad tensed to trace to her, but the demon tightened his hold.
    “Not unless you want your fragile human dead.”
    Can’t get to her, can’t reach her. She was wide-eyed in the rain, terrified. This is all my doing—all my fault!
    She looked so small compared to the immense demon. If Tarut flexed a muscle, he’d snap her neck. In one instant, she’d be dead. “Ease your goddamned grip, demon—you’ll suffocate her.”
    “Bad luck of yours to get a mortal for a Bride. They die so readily.”
    The rawest panic Conrad had ever felt surged within him. “Just hang on, Néomi.” To Tarut, he said, “Let her go if you have any care for living.”
    “I don’t think so, vampire.” Two of Tarut’s henchmen seized Conrad’s arms, and he was forced to allow it. “You know what I seek. I’ll never let her go, not until I get it.”
    Tarut wouldn’t let her go until Conrad was dead. Through the deluge, he scanned the area, searching for options, for a kill. There were none.
    He could see no way to remove this power from the demon.
    Néomi was shaking her head, struggling to speak. “Trace away... ” she gasped. So vulnerable.
    “I’ll vow to free her from the curse,” Tarut said, “and release her tonight. All you have to give me is your head.”
    Rewards and obstacles. Reward: saving Néomi’s life. Tarut would be bound by that oath to free her.
    The obstacle? There was no obstacle. All I’ve ever wanted is life, she’d said. And because of Conrad’s past, she was in jeopardy of losing it.
    If he could sacrifice his life to save hers, he’d do it proudly.
    “Conrad... no!” she cried, blinking through the rain. “Wait... I’m d—” The bastard tightened his grip, cutting off her air.
    “Stop!” When she dug her little fingers into the demon’s arm, desperate for breath, desperate for life, Conrad yelled, “Do it, demon—swing your blow. If you vow that neither you nor your men will ever harm her.”
    Tarut gave a solemn nod. “I vow it to the Lore.”

    Néomi was weeping, fighting... frantic for breath to tell him the truth.
    In the tumultuous storm, Conrad stood with his shoulders back, so ready to meet death for her. Her struggles were making his expression anguished, making him impatient for the blow.
    But it’d be for naught.
    Néomi had only thought she’d known what intensity was in this man. Now she realized that his fiercest emotion was... love. It blazed from his eyes. And she knew he wanted her to see how he felt.
    Yet then her sight began clouding as her dizziness increased. A fog seemed to slide around everyone, hindering her vision.
    Still holding her, Tarut advanced on Conrad.
    “No,” she choked out. As the demon leveled his sword at Conrad’s neck, she seized a breath. “I’m... dying anyway! Leave here!”
    Conrad’s brows drew together in confusion; Tarut swung his sword.

38

    An instant before it sliced through Conrad, Tarut’s sword—and the meaty arm that wielded it—dropped to the ground.
    The hit happened so fast, what was left of Tarut’s arm flew past Conrad’s face, spraying blood.
    Cadeon had struck Tarut from behind, lunging from the smoke demon’s tracing to strike just in time.
    At once, Conrad