by N M Thorn
Her mouth twitched, but her eyes remained hollow. Approaching Jamie, she pulled him into a quick hug.
“Jamie, you take care of him.” She jerked her chin at Damian. “He’s lost without you.” She ran up the steps and halted there, turning toward them. “Ta ta for now, boys.” Flashing them a quick grin, she disappeared behind the door.
“Here goes nothing,” Damian whispered and threw the ball of yarn on the ground.
Chapter 20
~ Cole Adams ~
“Goddammit! Just stop it!” Cole pushed off the wall and walked briskly toward the center of the large training room where two vampires stood, staring at him with a mix of loathing and murderous hunger reflected on their faces.
Cole approached them and halted a few feet away, shaking his head in resignation. “If you fight like this against a real Sisterhood slayer, you’ll be dead before you say ‘blood’.”
He crossed the distance between them, seized the arm of one of the vampires and pulled him to the side, taking his position on the hardwood floor. Raking his hand through his hair angrily, he assumed a guarding stance and waved at his opponent to attract his attention.
“Attack!” he shouted.
The vamp moved forward with a skipping roundhouse, but Cole switched his stance and met him with a powerful kick to his side, easily avoiding his attack. The vampire fell, clasping his ribs, but quickly recovered and hopped to his feet, getting back into a fighting stance.
“Again!” Cole yelled, pointing at his bare torso. “I’m wide open. You’re a vampire. You have the strength and the speed. I’m not using mine. Move!”
The vampire roared, fury igniting his eyes with a carnivorous scarlet glow. Without giving a momentary thought to what he was doing, he stepped forward, chambering for another roundhouse.
Dumbass… Cole thought, easily avoiding and blocking the vampire’s vigorous kicks and punches. Does he even remember that he has two legs? Where did Amaris find these useless baby vamps?
Moving at half of his speed, Cole turned around and met the unfortunate vampire’s attack with a powerful back kick. His foot landed on his opponent’s stomach, sending him flying a few feet across the floor. Without slowing down, he reached the young vamp in a few strides and seized the collar on his neck, yanking him to his feet.
“Have you ever fought in one of the captive events?” he asked, letting go of the collar. “Have you ever witnessed one?”
“No,” the vampire hissed through gritted teeth.
“They are brutal, merciless, deadly. It’s a kill or be killed world. So, guess what, asshole? If you continue sabotaging my training, I suggest you get ready to meet your true death,” Cole growled, turning around. His eyes swept across the line of ten fighters, and he folded his arms across his chest. “This applies to all of you. Tomorrow, you’ll be sparring with the top three fighters your master owns.” He cringed inside at his own words but forced himself to continue. “Get ready for pain. I think pain is the only thing that can make you appreciate what I’m trying to do for you here.”
He pivoted on his heels and marched toward Ruslan, who sat on a small stool by the wall with an expression of endless boredom on his face. Lifting a square piece of plastic attached to the wall above Ruslan’s head, Cole exposed a communication panel and pressed an intercom button.
“Jeff, I am done for today,” he said once the guard answered his call. Then he lowered himself to the floor next to his maker and stretched his legs, dropping his hands on his lap.
A few minutes later, the lock clicked, and Jeff, accompanied by four guards, walked inside. While they gathered the captive fighters and escorted them out of the training facility, Jeff made his way to Cole and Ruslan. Giving Ruslan a sarcastic once-over, he switched his attention to Cole, his shifty eyes raking him with deep distaste.
“Mr. Adams,” he said, placing his hands on his hips, “Mr. Amaris would like to have the pleasure of your company tonight. Again.” The guard glanced at his wristwatch, and a mocking sneer distorted his lips. “I hope thirty minutes is enough for you to make yourself presentable?”
“More than enough,” Cole replied calmly, rising to his feet.
“I’ll come by to escort you to his chambers in thirty minutes then,” Jeff added, gesturing at the exit.
“That won’t be necessary,” Cole replied dryly, heading toward the door. “I know where his chambers are.”
“You sure do,” Jeff murmured with so much derision in his voice that Cole shuddered inwardly.
Before he could stop himself, he spun around to face the guard. “What did you say to me?” he growled, his hands clenching into tight fists.
“Nothing.” A shadow of fear crossed the guard’s face, and he took a defensive step back, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. “I agreed with you, Mr. Adams. You’ve been a guest of Mr. Amaris long enough to know your way around. That was all I said.”
“Son,” Ruslan whispered so quietly that only Cole could hear, placing his hand on his shoulder.
Cole flinched at his touch, and for a brief second, his every muscle tensed. But he forced himself to relax and plastered a smile on his face.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Jeff,” he said calmly, “for the next training session with the Sisterhood slayers.”
“Yes, you will.” Jeff opened the door, allowing Cole and Ruslan to leave the training facility.
Cole walked into his room and shut the door, sliding to the floor covered by a soft carpet. Amaris had kept his promise, and his new accommodations didn’t look like a prison cell but rather like a Presidential Suite of a high-class hotel. It had two separate bedrooms, two bathrooms and a large living area with an enormous TV attached to the wall above an electric fireplace. The suite was stuffed to the brim with modern tech and expensive but completely unnecessary items of luxury and décor, but it lacked windows and clocks.
As far as Cole could see, there wasn’t any anti-magic tech or runes on the wall, but since his connection with Damian was still blocked, he knew they were all around. He was also positive that security cameras had been installed everywhere, including the large walk-in closets and both bathrooms. Despite the comfort of his new room, he clearly realized he had neither privacy nor security here, and he couldn’t relax even in his sleep.
“Cole, what’s going on?” asked Ruslan, lowering himself heavily on the couch. “Don’t you think you need to take a shower and get dressed for your meeting with Amaris?”
Cole glanced at his maker and averted his gaze, his scalp prickling. “How long has it been?” he asked, rubbing spatters of dried out blood off his knuckles.
Ruslan frowned, resting his arms on his lap. “Since they stopped torturing me, I have a hard time counting days,” he said, his dark eyes never leaving Cole. “To be honest, I have no idea. A week? Probably more.”
“It seems like years,” Cole whispered, resting his head against the door.
“I think we should talk.” Ruslan leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote control. Turning the TV on, he brought the loudness as high as the device allowed for.
“Some other time.” Cole shook his head, rising. “You’re right. I should get ready.” He closed his eyes, biting his lip. “Oh, God… I’d rather die…”
He whispered the last words so softly that he wasn’t sure his maker could hear him, but he did. Before Cole took a step, Ruslan was in front of him. He pushed him back and leaned closer, pinning him against the wall with the weight of his body.
“Keep… your mind… on the mission…” he hissed into Cole’s ear, making short pauses between the words. “Do you understand me, son?” He let go, taking a small step back, and braced his arms against the wall on either side of Cole. “You owe it to your brother and to yourself. We already know the fake slayers work for Amaris. So, do what you must do, but you have to find out if Amaris collects the magical energy of witches, and why he does it. I have no doubt killing witches is just another day at the office for this asshole. So,
get him to talk about his business affairs.”
“Yes, Father…”
“It’s not the first time you have to do something you don’t want to do,” Ruslan continued quietly. “If you think I don’t know what Roxana was doing to you, think again.” Cole nodded, barely able to face his maker. “Time moves differently in the Land of Dreams, but from everything you told me about your brother, I’m positive Dmitri will be back soon, so you don’t have much time. I know it’s not easy, but Amaris seems to drop his guard when he is with you, and you should use it. Get on with it, son. We must bring this evil empire to its knees, and you’re the only one who can do it.” Ruslan pulled back, gesturing at the bathroom. “A quick shower and be on your way.”
Cole nodded and headed toward the bathroom. Trying to keep his mind blank, he took a shower as fast as he could, dried himself and walked into the closet. Amaris didn’t go cheap, and his closet was filled with anything he could find useful while staying in the underground facility, starting with expensive business suits and ending with workout outfits. Without giving much thought, he took one of the business suits and quickly got dressed.
Still holding a tie in his hand, he walked out into the living area, slowly making his way toward the exit, but Ruslan stopped him. Giving him a quick once-over, he frowned.
“You’re not going to like it, but your ensemble needs a few small adjustments,” Ruslan murmured, narrowing his eyes. He took the tie out of his hands and threw it on the couch. Then he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and opened a few more buttons down to the middle of his chest. Raking his fingers through Cole’s hair, he made it fall around his face in a disarray of blond curls. “Now, go…” He dropped his head, rubbing his forehead.
“You know…” Cole whispered, barely moving his lips.
“Of course, I know.” Ruslan’s voice shook with suppressed anger. “I’m not blind, and I have a sharp sense of smell.” He looked away, a muscle twitching in his tightly pressed jaw. “Do what you must do, Cole. His time will come.”
“Yes, Father.”
There was so much darkness in his maker’s voice that Cole did a double take. With a stiff nod, he walked toward the door and placed his hand on the door handle, but before he could push it open, Ruslan stopped him again.
Seizing Cole’s shoulder, the ancient vampire turned him around. Cole glanced at his maker, and everything inside him crushed, the room around him becoming blurry for a heartbeat. Ruslan’s face, normally cold and emotionless, was twisted with anger and anguish, his fingers digging painfully into Cole’s shoulder.
“What am I doing? Cole… stop…” he whispered, his voice hoarse and unsteady. His hand rose to Cole’s cheek and stilled there without actually touching him. “Forget everything I said. I can’t have you—” He cut himself off, shaking his head, and dropped his hand powerlessly. “You’re my only son… my boy. I can’t stand by and watch this evil bastard abuse you in any way. There are always more ways than one to get things done.”
“Yes, there are.” A sad smile touched Cole’s lips as he carefully pried his maker’s fingers off his shoulder. “But most of them will take a lot longer. We have no time to find a better or easier way,” he replied softly. “So, I’ll do what I have to do. I know what Amaris wants from me, and I will use it to my advantage without actually giving it to him. You know I can do it, right? Two can play this twisted cat-and-mouse game.” Ruslan nodded, but doubt was clearly reflected in his dark eyes. Cole averted his gaze, rubbing his chin. “So far, nothing happened, and I’m inclined to keep it this way. Trust me, Father, I’d rather be flogged twice daily than give this evil asshole what he wants.”
Without waiting for Ruslan’s response, he turned around and walked out the door into a well-lit hallway.
Chapter 21
~ Cole Adams ~
Moving like on autopilot, Cole barely remembered his walk to the room where he had been meeting with Amaris every night for a social conversation, the way the Head of the Arizona House loved to put it. Raising his hand with effort, he knocked on the door and pushed it open, hoping that Amaris wasn’t there yet.
He hoped in vain. Dressed in his usual black suit, with a black leather mask on his face, Amaris sat on the piano bench, his strange purple eyes shining through the slits of his mask.
“Cole, come in, my friend,” he said, rising, a hint of melancholy in his voice. He pointed at the piano bench, inviting him to sit down. “Would you play for me tonight?”
Suppressing his desire to run and hide, Cole offered him a bright smile and approached the piano, his fingers brushing over its polished surface. “What would you like me to play, my lord?” he asked softly.
“We spent quite a few evenings together, and I must say I enjoy your company immensely. There is no need for formalities,” replied Amaris as Cole took a seat. “My full name is Frederick Luan Amaris, but you can call me Erick.”
“Okay, Erick,” replied Cole, cringing inwardly. “What would you like me to play for you this lovely evening?”
“The choice is yours, my dear friend.” Amaris waved his hand dismissively and headed toward the bar.
Taking his jacket off, Cole threw it on the couch and sat down on the piano bench. He positioned his hands over the keyboard and stilled with his eyes closed, but he wasn’t trying to choose what to play. He was trying to focus on the mission, shutting down all emotions to leave his mind cold and calculating. Without opening his eyes, he lowered his hands, his fingers—fast and light—touching the keys with perfect precision, as if he could see them.
After he finished playing, he lowered his hands to his lap and dropped his head, deep in his thoughts. A movement of air infused with the light fragrance of Amaris’ cologne alerted Cole to his presence, and he opened his eyes but didn’t turn around.
“Bravissimo, maestro,” Amaris whispered behind him, his voice sounding strangely raspy and thick. “What a wonderful choice—Sonata ao Luar… It’s perfect.”
Portuguese… A thought flashed through Cole’s mind. Amaris speaks Portuguese.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he forced a nonchalant smile and turned around, swinging his long legs over the bench. Amaris stood in front of him with two crystal glasses in his hands. He offered Cole the glass with red liquid inside but didn’t sit down, gazing at him with unconcealed intensity in his purple eyes. Cole brought the glass to his lips, detecting the harsh odor of alcohol, and allowed his eyes to ignite a bright scarlet.
“Erick, you’re playing with fire,” he said softly, taking a sip of his drink. “A drunk vampire can be hazardous to your health.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Amaris murmured, downing his drink in one gulp. Then he took a step forward and halted, standing between Cole’s legs, barely a few inches from him. As he watched him drink, his lips slightly parted, and his eyes fogged, their purple glow dimming down. When Cole finished his drink, Amaris took the empty glass from his hands and placed it on the side of the bench. His hand brushed over Cole’s shoulder, moving toward the collar of his shirt. Cole raised his eyes and froze, his hands clutching the edge of the bench. Amaris’ fingers traced the shape of his jaw and moved down, halting on the small hollow of his neck.
After a moment, he exhaled a ragged breath and lifted his hand, taking a step back. “Every day, I watch you in training on my security monitors,” he said softly and tugged at the collar of Cole’s shirt. “You don’t wear a shirt when you practice martial arts.”
“An old habit of mine, thanks to Ruslan,” Cole replied, sounding as evenly as he could muster.
Amaris giggled, his laughter sounding too high-pitched compared to the sound of his voice as always. “I should reward Ruslan for that,” he said. “You have the body of a Greek god… a sight to behold…” He pointed at Cole’s shirt and twirled his wrist. “Take it off. I want to see you closer.”
Cole swallowed, rising slowly. His fingers found a button on his shirt, fumbling with it, but he couldn’t bring himself to open i
t. Amaris noticed his hesitation and took a few more steps back, away from him.
“Oh, please, Cole,” he said, shoving his hand into the pocket of his pants. “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I just want to see you. I admire beauty in all shapes and forms—whether it’s a theater play, music, a painting or the perfectly sculpted body of an ancient vampire.”
The corners of Cole’s mouth lifted, forming a light and easy grin, and he quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Pulling it out of his pants, he shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor and spread his shoulders, slightly flexing his muscles for added effect. With a playful flick of his eyebrow, he turned around and walked toward the bar. Supporting himself with his arms, he vaulted over the counter, landing soundlessly on the other side. He turned his back toward Amaris, exploring the shelves with alcohol.
“That’s quite a collection you have here,” he said, glancing at Amaris over his shoulder.
“Take anything you want,” replied Amaris, his eyes never leaving Cole’s unobstructed torso.
Taking a bottle of vodka, Cole filled a small shot glass with it, raising it. “Cheers,” he said, downing its content in one gulp. Then he pointed at a small office phone with buttons of multiple lines and asked, “Do you mind if I make a quick call?”
“A call?” Amaris approached the bar, his lips set in a hard, unyielding line. “Where would you like to call? I believe there is no cell service where your brother is. Besides, he needs to focus on his mission, not on you. This is the reason I blocked your blood bond in the first place.”
Cole chuckled and walked around the bar, halting next to Amaris. “I wasn’t going to call my brother,” he said reproachfully, brushing Amaris’ arm with his elbow as if by accident. “I love Damian, but my life doesn’t revolve around him. I have a successful business to run, and to be honest, I’m worried about the situation in the company with me being absent for so many days. So, I wanted to call my head developer to make sure things are moving along while I’m gone. But if I can’t use your phone, I understand. I have no illusions about my position in your House.”