Bound by Danger (The Alliance, Book 6)

by Brenda K. Davies

  When he grasped her elbow, she jerked at it, but his hand clamped down with so much force that his fingers dug into her bone, and it felt as if she’d hit her elbow on a rock. She almost cried out.

  Instead, she bit her bottom lip and scowled at the man who ignored her. She opened her mouth to scream at him that she was a human being, but she doubted he considered her such. She was less than the dirt beneath his feet.

  How can someone be so broken as to have no empathy for another?

  She didn’t know the answer, and she didn’t care what made this man into the monster standing before her. She didn’t care if he’d been beaten, neglected, or tossed to the wolves as a child; nothing could justify his actions here.

  None of their captors spoke as they entered the small prison. Another one unlocked the gate on the other end, and the others shoved them out of their cell and into what she could only describe as an underground arena.

  Callie staggered forward when the man shoved her before releasing her arm. Realizing this was her last chance at freedom, she turned and ran. She barely made it three feet before the man snatched her hair and yanked her back.

  She couldn’t stop herself from crying out as the man threw her to the ground. Kicking out with her feet, she tried to connect with the man, but he slapped her foot away.

  Before she could recover, he was already walking away. Breathless and uncertain of what just happened, Callie watched as they closed the gate behind them. That man had moved so fast, or maybe she was too slow after everything she endured.

  Pushing herself to her feet, she lifted her head to take in her surroundings and blinked against the torchlights spilling down from above. When her vision cleared enough, she spotted the people looking down on them.

  Standing behind the torches set into the rocky ledge above them, she couldn’t make out any of their features, but their eagerness was palpable on the air. Her mind flashed back to her ancient history textbooks to the Coliseum and gladiator fights.

  Was that why they were here? Were they supposed to battle each other to the death? Because if that was the case, they were going to be extremely disappointed. She wouldn’t allow these freaks to turn her into a monster for their entertainment.

  But what if one of these women attacked her? She’d have no choice but to defend herself then. She didn’t want to be what these people were trying to turn her into, but she wouldn’t let them kill her without a fight either.

  The hair on her nape rose as she became aware of another presence in the arena. Her mouth went dry, and a primal fear, unlike any she’d ever known, crept through her.

  She became fully aware of what the term fight or flight meant as adrenaline spiked her heart rate. A cold sweat broke out on her body as she lowered her gaze from the spectators and turned her attention to the other side of the pit.

  She instantly recognized her mistake. They weren’t the predators; they were the prey.

  On the other side of the pit stood a man so covered in filth and dried blood on his arms and shoulders that she couldn’t tell what color his hair was or see any clean spots on his flesh. A scruffy, dirt-choked mustache and beard covered his face. His broad shoulders spoke of strength, but his visible rib bones and protruding collarbone belied that image.

  The jeans hanging low on his waist revealed the sharp edge of his hip bones. She suspected they once fit perfectly, but now a tug would pull them free. Multiple punctures marred his shoulders and upper arms. Fresh blood trickled from some of the wounds, while dried blood caked around a few others.

  No chains bound his ankles, but manacles encased his wrists. The chain between the manacles gave him at least a foot of space to move his hands as he flexed and unflexed them into fists.

  However, it was not the man’s chains or his battered and filthy countenance that caused a scream to lodge in her throat. It was not even the way his shoulders heaved, his nostrils flared, or the murderous look on his face that gave her pause.

  No, it was the burning red of his eyes that made the world lurch and her sanity come into question.

  She suddenly no longer wanted to know why they’d taken her. Not having an answer seemed far preferable than the one staring at her. It wasn’t an answer staring her in the face; it was death.

  Death was locked into this pit with her, and it would not stop until it destroyed every last piece of her.

  There was nowhere to go, but everything in her screamed to run and never look back. She was about to turn and flee when the man burst into motion and flew across the pit.

  CHAPTER 3

  Lucien experienced a moment of lucid thinking as he took in his surroundings. Then they shoved five women into the pit with him, and all sense of reason vanished. They were five human women who all had delicious, life-saving blood pumping through them.

  Fire burned through his veins and tore through his insides as hunger clawed at his stomach. Like a rat trying to flee a flame, it gnawed and clawed and tore at his intestines as it shredded what remained of his sanity, caused his head to spin, and almost knocked him to his knees.

  If he went to his knees, he couldn’t feed, and he so badly needed to feed.

  He hadn’t known it was possible to be so starved yet still live. He hadn’t known it was possible to be so mad with hunger yet also so coherent and focused on one thing… assuaging that hunger with those women.

  Their blood and lives would sate the ravenous appetite that had taken control of him so many days, weeks, months ago. He had no concept of time anymore or any idea how long he’d been like this.

  He’d once been a man, a good one too, but he could barely recall that man, and he no longer gave a shit about anything other than feeding and making the insanity stop.

  Lucien didn’t realize he was moving or hear the rattle of his chains as he raced across the pit. He didn’t know he’d reached the first woman until the softness of her flesh rubbed his palms as he gripped her upper arms.

  He didn’t know he was striking until he sank his fangs into her throat. Animalistic sounds issued from him, but he couldn’t stifle them as the sweetest blood he’d ever tasted filled his mouth. Dimly, in the back corner of his mind, he realized they’d turned him into a monster, but he didn’t care.

  The second the creature’s fangs pierced her flesh, it felt like someone had taken a fork, stabbed into her neck, and released acid into her system. With every beat of her heart, that acid ate away at her insides until it melted her muscles and liquidated her bones.

  The only reason she didn’t scream was that every part of her froze. She couldn’t move to push this monstrous, foul-smelling beast away from her.

  Inwardly, the scream grew until it became an echoing cacophony in her head. She tried willing herself to lift her hands and shove him away, but her muscles had become encased in a block of ice as the acid tore at her insides and burned away everything she was.

  He was taking his second pull of her wondrous blood when pain exploded inside his head. More of her blood filled his mouth, and he was desperate to keep feeding, but the hammer battering against his skull made it impossible.

  Desperate to sate his thirst for blood, but unable to take any more of the pain, he retracted his fangs and staggered back. He blinked against the light as he tried to focus on her. Something inside him screamed to kill her for causing him such agony, but something else surged to the forefront.

  And that something else was ferocious in its need to protect her. A brief clarity pierced through the haze of his insanity as he took in hair the color of a crow’s wings and eyes the color of cognac.

  The sweetness of her blood burned itself onto his tongue and into his cells. He craved more, but as he stepped toward her again, the alarm in her eyes stopped him.

  Eat. Feed. Blood. Blood. Blood. Make it stop. Kill her!

  The incessant urges pounded at his brain, but he couldn’t bring himself to feast on her again. He didn’t understand any of this. He was starving; how could he deny himself the wonder of he
r blood when he’d just discovered it?

  But even as he thought that he couldn’t hurt her again, he reached for her. She recoiled and staggered away, which only made him more determined to hunt her. She’s mine, and she’ll learn where she belongs.

  He had no idea where the thought or the conviction behind it came from, but once it hit him, it wouldn’t let go. He lunged forward and seized her upper arms again. The squeak she emitted pierced through his overwhelming impulse to make her his.

  With the pain fading, Callie’s senses were coming back, and all of them screamed at her to run. Her brain lumbered to process this information as the creature pulled her forward and tossed her over his shoulder.

  Lucien gazed wildly around the pit for some way out of it. When his eyes fell on the women closest to him, they scampered away from him like cockroaches from the light. Above him, a murmur went through the crowd, but they seemed more confused than upset by his actions.

  They weren’t the only ones confused. He had no idea what he was doing or what was propelling him, but he had to get her out of here.

  His hunger still churned like a tumultuous sea inside him, but getting her to safety was what propelled him now. He just didn’t know where to go to accomplish his mission.

  Then his gaze fell on the door they led the women through. They’d locked it, but when he twisted his head to look back, he saw it wasn’t as solid as the gate he’d come through. Starvation caused his muscles to tremble, and his legs didn’t feel as sturdy as they should, but he could get through that gate. He knew he could.

  Keeping one hand locked around the backs of her knees, he charged at the gate. Lowering his shoulder, he crashed into the door and threw all of his weight behind the charge. Metal bent and twisted before giving way with a wrenching screech.

  He staggered forward when the door tore from its hinges, and he almost fell to the ground. Catching his balance, he managed to stop himself from going down as figures emerged from the shadows. Lucien snarled at the vampires coming toward them, and keeping his shoulder down, he charged at the first one who tried to stop him.

  Callie cried out when the impact of hitting the door jarred her. She had no idea what was happening, but she would take her chances with the freak who bit her if he was trying to break out of this place.

  He’d most likely try to kill her once they were free, but she had a better chance of surviving outside of these tunnels than she did inside them. Resting her hands on the small of his back, she pushed herself up so she could see more of what was happening.

  The other four women had turned to stare after them; their mouths hung open as the monster carrying her stepped on the gate he’d destroyed.

  One of the criers started to run after them, but before she made it more than ten feet, some of the people watching from above jumped into the pit. When their red eyes shone in the sputtering light, Callie realized her ride out of here wasn’t the only freak in this place.

  The women’s screams abruptly cut off as guttural noises filled the air. Callie almost slapped her hands over her ears to block out the awful sounds of the feeding frenzy, but if she moved her hands, she would end up with her face against this thing’s back again.

  She’d already been close enough to know she’d prefer not to be that close again. While he didn’t smell as bad as a full Porta Potty at a music festival in July, he wasn’t something to be savored either as the stench of B.O., dirt, and blood clung to him.

  And she should know about those Porta Potties; she’d been to many festivals over the years, including Coachella, Lollapalooza, Stagecoach, Desert Daze, Firefly, Burning Man, and Bonnaroo.

  Plus, she’d attended a lot of smaller ones near where she grew up in the Catskill region of upstate New York. She’d lived within a couple of miles of the original Woodstock site in Bethel, New York. She spent many summer days trudging or riding her bike down the steaming asphalt road with her friends so they could listen to the acts that arrived every summer to play at the venue.

  When they were young, they never had the money for tickets, but they sat in the fields or woods outside the festival to listen. When they hit their teens, they would drive as close as they could before parking somewhere. They would walk the rest of the way with the alcohol they stole from their parents and the small bag of weed they’d purchased from the kid with all the connections at school.

  Then college came, and they went their separate ways, but they still got together every summer to celebrate the anniversary of Woodstock. Except now, they could afford to buy tickets; they just didn’t. They returned to the woods to share their beer and pot while they discussed their lives and listened to the music flowing through the air.

  Her childhood years had fostered a love of music in her, and she was determined to attend as many festivals as possible. She’d planned to travel overseas too; the Download Festival was at the top of her bucket list.

  However, now she realized she might have run out of time to complete her bucket list. That knowledge didn’t help her increasingly queasy stomach. Memories of those simple childhood days flooded her mind as snarls and the stench of blood permeated the air.

  A part of her realized she was going into shock, but she couldn’t stop her mind from traveling between the past and her horrific present. Part of her was coasting down a hill with her legs over the handlebars of her bike and her hair whipping behind her.

  The other part was trying not to register the slaughter unfolding around her. She was becoming more like that woman who’d turned into a rabbit in front of the coyote, and she couldn’t allow it to happen.

  No matter how awful this was, she would not spend what might be the last minutes of her life hiding. She shook away the memories and focused on the now. She almost retreated again when a shriek followed the loud snap of bone.

  No matter how badly she wanted to hide from this awful reality, she couldn’t retreat. Retreating could mean death, and she’d never hidden before. Or at least, she hadn’t hidden until Carter walked into her life. And over the past couple of months, she’d grown sick of hiding.

  She’d vowed never to hide again, and she’d meant it.

  Lucien released the woman’s legs when a Savage leapt out of the shadows at him. His manacles rattled and clinked as he punched the side of the Savage’s head. There was a time when a blow from him would have knocked the asshole unconscious or, at the very least, caved in the side of its head, but he was too weak to unleash that kind of damage right now.

  At least the manacles added weight to his hands and made the blow harder, but instead of going down, the Savage only staggered to the side. However, it was enough to get the creature out of his way.

  Lucien grabbed the woman’s legs again and sprinted down the shadowed hall. He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to get her to safety. He couldn’t let her die in this hideous place.

  But as that coherent thought blazed through his mind, voices started chattering at him again. Hungry. Eat. Feed. Drink her!

  The scent of her blood was so enticing that he couldn’t resist turning his head toward her. He rested his mouth against her jeans before sinking his fangs into her calf. Like before, the sweet taste of her blood was ambrosia on his lips until stars exploded behind his eyes, and he felt as if someone had taken a stick of dynamite and detonated it within his skull.

  He was certain his eyes were going to erupt out of his head as he released his bite on her.

  I hurt her. Shit. I can’t hurt her!

  The insanity, self-hatred, and hunger tearing at him made it feel like someone was digging their fingers into his brain and peeling it apart. What was wrong with him?

  But he knew the answer to that. It had been too long since he’d fed; he was out of control, and for some reason, this woman affected him in a way no other ever had.

  When the paralysis from her pain eased, Callie hit the asshole carrying her in the small of his back. She didn’t care that he was unstable and a sick freak who ran around bi
ting people; she wouldn’t let him continue to abuse her in such a way.

  Her fist connecting with his solid flesh made a thwack sound and caused her hand to sting, but he showed no sign that it affected him at all. He didn’t even grunt from the impact, which infuriated her as much as the fact he kept biting her.

  Memories of the past swirled up again as she recalled the time her friend, Jeannie, bit the tongue of… of…

  Callie couldn’t remember the name of the kid Jeannie bit, but they were playing spin the bottle, and he’d landed on Jeannie. Until then, they were only doing chaste pecks on the lips, but this kid was a couple of years older and a whole lot bolder. When he shoved his tongue into Jeannie’s mouth, she bit it.

  Callie recalled his muffled shouts as he slapped his hands over his mouth. Jeannie started shouting at him that he was a freak, and everyone else, torn between laughter and disgust, watched as the kid stormed out of the house.

  Less than a week later, they learned sticking your tongue in someone’s mouth was the way adults kissed, but at the time, it was gross.

  They never saw that kid again, but over the years, spin the bottle became a whole lot more interesting, and Jeannie stopped biting and started playing a whole lot nicer.

  Callie didn’t much feel like playing nice with the asshole who kept biting her, and why was it so excruciating? A normal bite should never be as paralyzing and punishing as what this freak was doing to her.

  CHAPTER 4

  When another Savage stepped in his way, Lucien drew on the strength the few drops of her blood had given him. He remained far weaker than he used to be, and his mind was a convoluted mess that made him feel like the rat hunting the cheese in the maze, but her blood helped to focus him.

  He needed to kill; it had been too long since he felt the thrill of snuffing out the life of a Savage with his bare hands, and now he was too weak to experience that thrill. It had been too long since killing helped smother the demon part of him, and he had to unleash that part of himself on something soon.