Till Abandon by Avril Ashton Page A

mind.
    No! Don't hurt him, Ken
    All-consuming fear took over, drowning out the pain as she stared at the blood trickling down Blake's chest.
    What do you want, Ken? What?
    She yelled the last word into the mind link as her insides shuddered and her blood slowed to a crawl.
    Ken moved behind Blake and went down on one knee, his hand still on the knife, the sharp, jagged blade still at Blake's neck. Ken met her gaze, licking his lips, and Voltaire realised the man she used to know wasn't present either. Something dark, evil, and utterly out of control resided in his skin. In his heart.
    "I want to know why you left me and came all the way out here to fuck an ankle-biter.” He flexed his wrist and dug the blade deeper into Blake.
    Breath stuttered in Voltaire's lungs. In her mind, she lurched forward, but in reality she remained glued to the floor, hands in her lap.
    "Wasn't I giving you what you needed, Voltaire?” Ken asked. His eyes were wide and curious. “I let you fuck me whenever you wanted, however you wanted, because I thought you cared. I thought we were partners."
    What the hell was he talking about? She tried frowning but it hurt too much, even for her.
    Ken, I never knew you felt that way. I—I'm sorry that I hurt—
    "Really?” He sprang to his feet, knife waving. “Are you really sorry, Voltaire, or is it all about the shifter, here?"
    He took a step towards her and her heart leapt in relief. As long as he wasn't anywhere near her mate.
    I'm worried about Blake, Ken, but I'm telling you the truth
    She pleaded shamelessly, with her eyes locked on Blake's.
    I'm sorry if I hurt you, truly. That was not my intention.
    "What was your intention? Just keep me on my knees, my ass available to you, marking time until you found your so-called mate?"
    Ken's voice grew more erratic. The dark magic surrounding him pulled at Voltaire, clawing at her to let it in.
    No! I didn't—that wasn't—
    She dry-heaved.
    "—your intention,” Ken finished. “Yeah, heard that already."
    Do Remi and the Council know what you're doing? Do they know you can do these things?
    Voltaire tried to steer him away from her perceived wrong-doings.
    How did you manage to hide this from them?
    Ken scoffed and waved her words away. “As you well know, the Council isn't that hard to hide things from. They're all too full of themselves to care about us little people, even if we do carry out their dirty work."
    But—but—
    For an agent to become an elite, the Council had to be involved. They had to be, to choose, do some vetting.
    "I'm very good at hiding things, Voltaire.” Ken winked as a sick smile spread over his fair face. “May I point out that the Death Bringer never saw me coming?"
    He looked supremely proud of himself and anger the likes of which she'd never experienced blossomed inside Voltaire. She welcomed it, closing her eyes to camouflage the intensity.
    When did you realise you had elite skills
    Better to keep him talking, off her scent as she allowed the darkness in her to rise to the forefront, to fester and grow. Reaching deep inside, she wiped her thoughts clean, made it so all he saw was fear for Blake and nothing else.
    Ken shrugged at her question. “Dunno. A while before you decided to abandon me to find him.” He jerked a finger to indicate Blake.
    Her shifter's eyes had drifted closed. His head lolled to the side.
    Voltaire yanked her gaze from Blake and focused on Ken.
    Why didn't you tell me about it?
    "Really?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Would you have continued seeing me once I was on equal footing with you?” A self-deprecating laugh fell from his lips. “I took note of who you fucked and not one of them was on your level, none was an elite. And then you got with Remi and Czion."
    He knew about that?
    Yes, Ken said in her head. Then, out loud, “I knew about that because I kept tabs on you. Believe me, I thought it was rather careless of the Death Bringer to be so lax with her safety, but, hey.” He