Bound In Death (A Vampire and Werewolf Romance)

by Cynthia Eden

  A witch.

  Lorcan’s witch.

  The same witch who’d been at his side when Lorcan slaughtered nine members of Alerac’s pack.

  “But I can be merciful,” Lorcan continued as the witch approached him. He reached for his witch’s hand. “Shonna, my dear…”

  She only flinched a little bit when he touched her.

  According to the whispers, she’d tried to flee from Lorcan once. He’d retaliated by nearly taking her head.

  She hadn’t attempted to leave him again.

  “Work up a spell,” he ordered her softly as his gaze stayed on Keira. “Freeze her body so that she does not need air to breathe. Keep her aware, of every single moment. Let her know that time is passing, let the hunger for blood consume her as she remains motionless in her prison.”

  Shonna nodded. “It will be done.”

  No, it fuckin’ wouldn’t be.

  Lorcan tapped his chin. “As I said, I am not without mercy.”

  Lying bastard.

  “My vampiress must suffer during her imprisonment,” Lorcan said. “For what is punishment without pain? But the instant she is free, then I want her to forget.”

  Lorcan’s gaze slid to Alerac. To the vampires who were fighting so desperately to hold him down.

  Keira.

  “I want her to forget everything,” Lorcan said as his shoulders squared. “Everything.” Then he glanced at Ryan once more. “You see, she’ll be able to recover. She’ll be able to come back to us.”

  Hope flashed across Ryan’s face.

  “I won’t come back,” Keira vowed. “I won’t be like you.”

  Lorcan laughed. “You already are.”

  A tremble shook the witch’s body. Shonna’s lashes swept down, concealing her gaze.

  Lorcan stalked back toward Alerac. He knelt down, getting too close.

  Your mistake.

  “Keira will come back to us, and, by then, you’ll be long dead.”

  But I am not dead yet.

  Alerac’s claws flew up. He scraped across Lorcan’s cheek, digging deep into the vamp’s flesh.

  Lorcan screamed and jerked away. He glared down at Alerac, chest heaving.

  “You’ll be the one who is dead,” Alerac promised him.

  “No, I’ll be the one mated to Keira while you are no more than a pile of bones.” Lorcan swiped away blood. “Take her.”

  “No!” Ryan shouted.

  The shout did no good. All of the vampires in that hall were loyal to Lorcan. Their allegiance did not belong to Ryan, to a man who’d been blood born, but was only now beginning his transformation into a full vampire.

  Keira didn’t fight the hands that grabbed her. Her eyes—still unafraid, still too trusting—met Alerac’s, and that trusting gaze broke something in him.

  Ryan rushed after her. After her…and the witch. Because Shonna had followed the group that took Keira away from Alerac.

  The heavy, wooden doors closed behind them.

  Alerac was left with about ten vamps who were all salivating for his blood.

  Drink up. Fuckin’ drink up. The faster they drank, the faster they’d die. He’d been sure not to let Keira sample his blood that night. But as for the others…

  Drink your fill.

  “I said you would get to live.” Lorcan picked up the silver knife. Flashed his fangs. “But I never vowed that you would not suffer.”

  A vampire yanked back Alerac’s head, forcing him to stare up at Lorcan’s face.

  The leader smiled. “I think I’ll start with your eyes. After all, what good is a wolf that cannot see?”

  Dawn would come soon. Hours? Minutes?

  He could survive anything until dawn. He knew Lorcan would not kill him right away. All in the realm knew of Lorcan’s love for torture. He never let any of his enemies die easily.

  He made my family suffer for hours. Days.

  Alerac had been gone, taken away by another battle. When he’d returned, there had been only decaying bodies waiting for him.

  “I’m going to carve out your eyes, wolf. Then I’m going to carve you up. Slice by slice. When you’re bleeding from a hundred wounds, we’ll feast on you.” The blade came toward him, but in Alerac’s mind, he didn’t see it. He only saw Keira.

  Then he saw nothing.

  But he felt plenty, especially when the vampires began to feed on him.

  ***

  “What did they do to him?” The voice—low, rumbling, angry—came to him in the darkness.

  Why was it still dark? Dawn should have come by now.

  “Alerac? Blast Lorcan to hell. Look at his eyes.”

  Then, rough hands yanked him to his feet.

  “Alerac, Alerac, it’s Liam. We got in, just like you said. We found the vampires. Half of ‘em were passed out.”

  Because they’d feasted on his blood—just as Lorcan had promised. Drained him nearly dry.

  They’d taken the poison right from his veins.

  “A few got away, but we’ll catch their scents. We’ll hunt them,” Liam swore.

  Liam…the werewolf who was like a brother to him. The one who always had his back.

  Alerac tried to force himself to speak. “K-Keira…”

  “You need to shift. Do you hear me? Shift now.” The snap of command was in Liam’s voice. So was the whisper of fear.

  Only a shift would heal Alerac’s injuries. Not just one shift, not after all they’d done to him.

  A few hours…

  There was much, much that could be done in that time.

  Alerac shook his head and nearly fell back down to the stone floor.

  “Get the silver off him!” Liam demanded.

  He didn’t feel that silver anymore.

  But something hit the stone floor with a clunk. The chains?

  “The silver’s gone,” Liam said as he pulled Alerac forward, forcing him to walk. “Shift.”

  He couldn’t. He could barely sense the beast inside of him. There was something else that was more important. Something he needed.

  The only person he could see in the darkness that surrounded him.

  “K-Keira…” Her name was a broken rasp. They’d cut his throat, torn it with their fangs, and that weak rasp was all he could manage then.

  Liam swore. “The vampire bitch? Look, we didn’t hurt her. We didn’t even see her.”

  She was all that Alerac could see. Her eyes had been so blue. So trusting.

  There had been love in her eyes.

  Love for a beast who’d betrayed her.

  “Keira…” Saying her name made him feel stronger. Made the beast inside stronger.

  “The lass is not here! She wasn’t here when we arrived. Look, forget her—shift! Your eyes—they—they—”

  He knew what they’d done to his eyes.

  Just as he knew about all of the flesh they’d cut from him. Inch by inch. Slice by slice.

  A growl built in his throat. They’d taken Keira. Sent her to be imprisoned? He had to find her. Had to find—

  His bones began to snap. The wolf shoved and clawed his way to freedom as he pushed to get to the one thing he needed so desperately.

  His knees gave way. He broke from Liam’s grip and hit the floor. His claws scraped over the stones. He opened his mouth. Tried to call Keira’s name once more.

  But it was the wolf’s cry that escaped from him. A long, mournful cry for a mate who wasn’t there. A mate he hadn’t recognized.

  Not until it was too late.

  Two hundred years…

  Present Day

  Chapter One

  Someone was watching her.

  It wasn’t the casual, even flirtatious, stares that she sometimes attracted when she worked at Wylee’s Bar. Sure, her skirt was short enough and her top tight enough to get plenty of second glances.

  But this wasn’t about her clothes. Or her figure. Or about some kind of fast hook-up between strangers.

  I feel hunted.

  Very
carefully, Jane Smith put the empty beer pitcher on the bar. Then her gaze rose and locked on the long, stretching mirror that covered most of the wall behind that bar. In the mirror’s gleaming surface, she could see the crowd that filled Wylee’s.

  And the man who watched her.

  Goosebumps rose on her skin. The man was big, muscled, with huge shoulders that filled the doorway—and he was still standing just inside the doorway. He’d angled his body toward the shadows so that she couldn’t clearly see his face, but she knew he was watching her. The realization was instinctive. Bone deep.

  “Jane? Table four is waiting for you.” More beer was pushed toward her.

  She didn’t move. She didn’t want to head over and check on table four. She wanted to run, fast and far, from that little bar.

  Because she was afraid.

  In the last six months, she’d been afraid plenty. Countless times, she’d woken up at night, screaming, not even knowing why. She never dreamed when she slept. Just saw darkness. Total and complete.

  But she feared.

  The man in the doorway—I’m afraid of him.

  “Jane?” The bartender and the owner of the place, Hannah Wylee, frowned at her. “Girl, you look like you’re about to faint.”

  She felt that way, too.

  But Jane forced herself to reach for the tray. To curl her hands around it and turn away from the bar and that broad mirror. She turned—

  He was still in the doorway. So tall. The stranger had to be about six foot four. And those shoulders—they were truly brushing the sides of the old, wooden entrance to Wylee’s Bar.

  She wanted to see his eyes.

  She was terrified to see them.

  Jane lifted her chin, lifted that tray, and scurried through the crowd. It was a Friday night, and Friday nights were always busy. It was Miami—a city known for non-stop parties. Tourists, locals—everyone piled in on Friday nights.

  It was only slightly past ten PM; the night was young. She wouldn’t be escaping from this place until close to six that morning.

  Bodies brushed against her. Hands that were a little too friendly tried to slow her down. Offers, invitations were thrown out to her. She ignored them, hurrying toward table four.

  Only she didn’t make it to the table.

  She walked right into him.

  He shouldn’t have been able to get across the bar that fast. But he had.

  Her tray bounced against him. Beer sloshed, and she had to do a frantic grab to make sure that the whole try didn’t go crashing to the floor.

  Music beat around them. Voices rose and fell. Laughter filled the bar.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” His voice was deep. Rumbling. Tinged with the faintest of accents.

  Her goosebumps got even bigger.

  Look at him.

  She made her gaze rise. Her eyes locked on his.

  No, not on his. On the sunglasses he was wearing. Um, sunglasses, in a bar? At night? What was up with that?

  Her attention shifted to his face. To the hard, square line of his jaw. A jaw that was clenched. His lips—sensual, a little cruel—were pressed into a thin line.

  Her heart slammed into her chest. Breathing deeply got incredibly difficult. “Uh, if you’ll just get a table…” Before they all filled up, “one of the other waitresses will be with you in a few moments.” Because she was not taking his table. Mr. Sunglasses could just keep on walking right past her.

  He took the tray from her. Dropped it onto a nearby table.

  “What the hell—” One of the frat boys at that nearby table began.

  But the man with the dark hair, midnight black and so very thick, wasn’t paying the frat guy any attention. No, the stranger had stepped forward. He’d wrapped his hands around her arms and pulled her right against him.

  “I’ve waited long enough.” Growled. Those words seemed more animal than man.

  Her heart wasn’t racing right then—Jane could have sworn that it stopped completely.

  Trouble.

  Her gaze cast frantically around the bar. Hannah wasn’t looking her way. And where were the bouncers? They should be there to help with situations like this one. No one was supposed to mess with the staff.

  Breathe, breathe. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Her heart began its mad thumping once more. “I think…” His voice had been a growl. Hers was a squeak. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.” And she pitied that poor woman.

  His fingers tightened. Then he was moving—cutting his way right through the crowd and hauling her with him.

  Finally, finally, Hannah glanced up and saw her being dragged across the bar. Hannah’s mouth dropped open in surprise even as her green eyes widened in alarm.

  Yeah, Jane was feeling pretty dang surprised and alarmed, too.

  Help me. Jane mouthed. Then she screamed it. But the music was pumping, the crowd was already shouting, and her scream did nothing.

  She tried to twist out of the guy’s hold, but there was no give to him at all. He didn’t even seem to notice her struggles.

  “Curtis! Sean!” Hannah yelled, calling out for the bouncers.

  But her stranger had Jane at the back door. He shoved that door open and dragged her outside. The night air was hot. Thick.

  She tried to pull away from him once more. Not happening. The guy’s grip was unbreakable. He was strongest thing that she’d ever seen.

  He pushed her against the brick wall of the building. Caged her there. “You should have come to me. As soon as you were free.”

  He was insane. “I’m not—”

  His lips crashed down on hers. His kiss was wild, rough. Almost desperate.

  She shoved her hands against his chest.

  He didn’t step back.

  Jane sank her nails into him.

  He growled and just kissed her harder.

  All she could hear was the frantic beating of her heart. Too fast. Shaking her body.

  He wasn’t letting her go. His kiss—she felt like he was consuming her.

  Fear beat at Jane. So much fear.

  Where was Curtis? Sean? She tried to scream again, but his mouth muffled the sound. Fine, maybe she’d just bite the jerk.

  Only, before she could, his head lifted. Finally. Lifted and—

  He licked her neck. “Missed you. So fuckin’ much.” His accent had deepened. What was that? Irish? It sounded like an accent she’d heard on TV once. “Never gonna let you go again.”

  “Yeah, buddy, you will.” Sean’s sharp voice. “You’ll be letting her go right now.”

  She sagged against the wall.

  “You’ll let her go,” another hard male voice. Yes! That was Curtis talking! She recognized his familiar Alabama twang. “Or, mister, that’ll sure enough be the last mistake you ever make.”

  Jane sucked in a deep, desperate breath.

  Her stranger—still with his sunglasses on—gave a rough sigh. “You don’t want to get involved in this,” he said to the men. He didn’t even bother glancing over at them.

  “Yeah, we do.” Sean was adamant. “Jane there is our friend, and you need to get your damn hands off her.”

  The man, who held her in a grip of steel, tensed. His head cocked, and he seemed to study her behind his sunglasses. “Jane.” He tasted the name, frowning. “No.”

  She found her voice with a stutter. “Pl-please, let me go.”

  His body locked, the muscles tensing even more against her.

  “Let her go.” Curtis’s voice was harder than Sean’s, harder and even meaner. “Or I’ll taze your ass.”

  The tazer was Curtis’s weapon of choice. He’d told her once that he didn’t like to get bloody unless he had to.

  Blood made the ex-linebacker feel nauseous.

  “Last chance,” Curtis snapped, his drawl thicker. People usually jumped when Curtis gave an order.

  Very, very slowly, the stranger eased his grip on Jane.

  She immediately ran from him and
straight into Sean’s outstretched arms.

  A growl rumbled in the air.

  “What the fuck?” Sean muttered. He shoved her behind his broad back. She was so glad that Sean was there. Tall, tattooed, with his gleaming bald head and the bulging muscles that normally made even drunk men give him a clear path—he was a truly beautiful sight to her scared eyes right then.

  Only the more she studied him, Jane realized that Sean didn’t look so intimidating right then, not when he was so near the mysterious male—the crazy male—in the sunglasses.

  The man who’d held Jane, who’d kissed her so fiercely, turned to slowly face them. Curtis came to stand at Sean’s side, a united front. Curtis was as tall as Sean, but leaner, and his hands were currently curled around a tazer.

  The guy never made empty threats.

  “You’re not wanted at Wylee’s any longer,” Curtis told him bluntly. “So hit the road, and don’t come back.”

  He wasn’t moving.

  And the knot in Jane’s stomach was getting worse.

  “Jane isn’t your name.” He spoke just to her. Seemed to focus only on her.

  Her heart stopped then.

  “Why do you lie to them?” He took a step toward her. “Why lie to me?”

  Her fingers clutched at Sean’s arm. He glanced back at her. “Do you know him?” Sean asked.

  Her gaze swept over the stranger’s face. The lamp posts behind the bar tossed light on him. “I’ve never seen him in my life.”

  He took another step toward her. “Lie.”

  Curtis lifted his tazer. “Man, I told you—”

  The stranger lunged for him.

  Curtis fired his tazer.

  Only the tazer didn’t actually do anything to the man in black. The shock should have hit him, immobilized him, but he didn’t even slow down. He yanked the electrodes out of his chest, and in the next instant, he was in front of Curtis. One powerful fist drove into the bouncer’s jaw.

  Curtis flew back. Hit the ground.

  “Get inside, Jane,” Sean demanded. “Get back inside, now.”

  Then Sean tried to attack.

  He was on the ground less than a second later.

  And Jane was running—too late—for that back door.

  Hard hands caught her around the waist and spun her around. She was screaming, not even realizing the desperate sound came from her, until his hand flattened over her mouth, stilling her cries.