Demery shook with fury, feeling the discomfort, his gaze locked on Reaper’s hand. “I didn’t leave her. I went in search of what you wanted. You said specifically that you’d only accept wolf’s blood in exchange for Melea, mon,” he said. “Here’s your wolf.” He toed Morgan.
“If that’s true, then our trade will be complete,” Reaper said. “But if you’ve double-crossed me again, I will pass your woman around to every man while you experience her pain. Then I’ll bleed her slowly in front of you and watch you thirst to death.”
Melea’s mocha skin paled at the threat. Blood roared in Demery’s head, deafening him to everything but his rage.
“Or maybe if the wolf doesn’t suit me, I’ll have you take his place,” Reaper said.
“Taste him and be done with it,” Demery snarled. All this talk about blood and violence was making him hungry. “Stop wasting time.”
“You forget your place.” Reaper shoved Melea behind him and stood nose to sun shield with Demery. “I will taste the wolf, but not here,” he said, glancing around at the mountains. “I’d rather be back in my encampment, instead of exposed to unseen enemies.”
“How long will it take to get there?” Demery asked, praying it wasn’t too long. He didn’t think he’d make it much farther without blood.
“Fourteen miles south of here. Now pick him up and put him in that vehicle. We don’t have all day and I’m thirsty. I haven’t had an Other since you left.” Reaper pointed to a metal monstrosity that resembled a steel armadillo. Reaper jumped in the passenger side and pulled Melea onto his lap. He went back to stroking her breasts, all but daring Demery to stop him.
Melea stared straight ahead, her big brown eyes wide and unfocused. He’d seen the look before in the soldiers who’d experienced heavy combat. Given time she might recover from the trauma. Demery looked closer at her vacant expression. Then again, she might not.
Demery bit the inside of his mouth and tasted blood. He swallowed it, praying it would keep him going until he could feed properly and get Melea away from this madman.
The ride to the Sand Devil encampment took awhile, as the vehicles weren’t made for speed. In the distance, he could see the outpost where he’d found Morgan. Demery was grateful that Red hadn’t come up to meet him. He wasn’t at all sure he would’ve been able to go through with it and lie to her face as easily as he’d done to Morgan.
He glanced down at the sleeping wolf, who’d been dumped onto the vehicle floor. He was snoring loudly, which was a side effect of the stun. The collar around his neck had already begun to turn his skin red. When Reaper finished with him, he’d be raw. He didn’t envy him that, but Morgan had brought it on himself.
Demery hadn’t intended to exchange any of them for Melea, but he had hoped to bargain for her using some of their blood. He’d almost worked out a deal when Morgan and Red left him. Reaper had been furious. Despite Demery’s speed and added strength, they’d beat him. All it had taken in the end was a threat to Melea’s life to get him to comply. After that, he hadn’t bothered to protect himself when Reaper laid into him.
The big man had used everything in his arsenal: whips, chains, fists, feet, and pipes. Demery had lost track of the number of blows he’d received. One thing he couldn’t ignore was the pain. It had been constant and intense, radiating throughout his entire body until he was convinced that no uninjured spot remained.
Without blood to replenish him and repair his wounds, the healing had been slow going. Demery still ached, but not as bad as a couple of days ago. Soon he and Melea would be out of here and they’d leave this nightmare behind.
They hit a rock and Morgan groaned.
Demery looked at him, but he still wasn’t awake. When Morgan did come around, he’d have one hell of a hangover, but the pain in his head would be nothing compared to what Reaper would do. The barbarian wanted the blood of an Other.
Demery had made the mistake of bartering his own blood when he’d first come to trade with the Sand Devils. It hadn’t taken long for Reaper to discover the advantages of drinking an Other’s blood. Soon he had added strength and speed without any of the drawbacks. Eventually Demery’s blood wasn’t enough. Reaper wanted more and greater variety. His thirst damn near unquenchable.
Demery had barely escaped with his life. He hadn’t been able to save his blood woman, Melea. She would’ve slowed him down. Like a coward, he’d had her deliver a message, saying he’d return with a wolf, then left her with these animals. What survived was a shell of the woman he once knew.
They made it to the Sand Devil camp. Morgan was removed from the vehicle and chained to a metal spike that had been driven deep into the ground. His arms were pulled out to his sides to form a macabre cross. His lips were cracked and his skin had already started to burn from the sun.
Demery watched as he came around. He knew the moment Morgan woke because his head shot up and his amber gaze locked on him. A growl sounded deep within his throat, both promise and threat, then he yanked on the chains. They clanged loudly, but held.
“You have no one to blame but yourself,” Demery said, brushing aside any second thoughts when Melea slid off Reaper’s lap.
Morgan’s eyes drilled him in place. “You will regret this, vampire,” he said, his voice guttural.
“It won’t do you any good to shift. Those chains are silver laced with steel and that post is sunk six feet into the ground,” Reaper said. “You can’t break them.” He shoved Demery’s blood toward him, then drew a large knife from the sheath at his thigh and approached Morgan. “This will hurt,” he said, then sliced him across the chest. A line of red appeared as his skin opened, then began to drip.
Morgan winced, but didn’t make a sound. His gaze remained on Demery.
“Someone get me a cup,” Reaper shouted. One of the Sand Devils rushed forward.
He pressed the cup below the wound and waited for the blood to flow. It took some applied pressure to hurry the process along. When the crimson liquid neared the top, Reaper brought the cup to his lips and drank. Blood spilled out of the sides of the cup and down his face as he swallowed greedily.
His lips smacked when he’d finished. “Ahh,” he said. “He’ll do nicely.” Reaper pressed the cup back to Morgan’s chest, working the wound once more, then turned to Demery. Crimson sloshed over the sides, spilling onto the ground.
Morgan trembled in anger and his muscles tensed, which only made him bleed more. His taut abdomen was now slick with blood. The sweet coppery aroma filled the air.
Demery’s mouth watered. He could smell the blood through his protective suit’s air filter. It enticed him, lured him closer, when he knew he should stay where he was. He had Melea back. This was what he wanted. The smart thing to do was go. If they left now, they could be over the mountains by tomorrow night.
“Care for a sip?” Reaper asked, waving the cup under his face shield.
Demery’s eyes followed the liquid’s swirling movements, mesmerized by the ebb and flow. He was so hungry. His mouth began to water and his fangs extended.
“Blood, let’s leave,” Melea pleaded, tugging on his arm.
He looked into her ashen face. Abuse at the hands of Reaper had faded her natural beauty. “We will soon,” Demery said, brushing his gloved knuckles over her cheeks. “I promise.”
She shook her head. “No, let’s go now. I promise I’ll feed you.” Tears welled in Melea’s big, brown eyes.
Demery knew she was right. They should leave immediately. But it had been days since he’d fed. His body ached from the hunger. He was too weak to go far. Demery knew he’d never make it over the mountains. Despite her offer, he refused to feed from Melea, not after everything she’d been through. His gaze locked on the cup and his stomach roared.
Reaper chuckled. “I see your body knows what it needs. As does mine.” He slapped his firm abdomen. His hand bounced off the muscle with a loud thwack.
Melea tried once more to pull Demery away. “Please, let’s go,”
she pleaded.
“You should listen to your blood,” Morgan said, “while you can.”
Demery’s face hardened. He pried Melea’s fingers off him. “All I need is a quick taste before we go,” he said, looking at Morgan. “Then you can get to know your new friend.”
Tears fell silently down Melea’s cheeks as Demery stepped forward and grasped the cup. The smell of blood grew stronger, drowning his senses. Like Reaper, drinking Other blood affected Others, too. It was one of the few things that would get them drunk, which was why they rarely touched the stuff outside of the rest pad. He didn’t plan on overdoing it. He just needed enough to squelch his hunger, regain his strength, and wipe that look of superiority off Morgan’s face.
Demery unzipped a spot on his suit and pulled out a special straw that allowed him to feed during the day. He placed one end of the straw into the cup and sucked. The blood swirled, making a couple of loops before disappearing inside of his suit.
The first taste of the hot coppery substance hit his throat and he choked, nearly dropping the cup. His fingers tightened. Demery managed to hang onto it long enough to empty the container. His head swam and he shook it to clear it.
“Enjoy it while you can, vamp,” Morgan said. “I plan to kill you as soon as I get loose.”
Morgan had never been so pissed off in his life. He was angry at the vamp, but even more so with himself. He knew it had been stupid to follow Demery. If he hadn’t been feeling so guilty about leaving him, Morgan would’ve listened to his gut.
Now he was strung up like a sacrificial lamb, waiting to be slaughtered pint by pint. His mind immediately jumped to Gina. What would she do when she woke up and found him missing? Would she come looking for him?
The thought chilled him. He couldn’t let her. Somehow he had to warn her to stay away. Jonah would give her Kane’s recording when he didn’t return. She could take it and run for the boundary fence. At least that way she’d be far away from this place and out of danger. He glanced over at Reaper. The man’s taste for blood ran far deeper than just drinking it. He wouldn’t survive unless he could figure a way to escape.
Morgan’s gaze moved to Demery. Hatred surged through his body and he tested the strength of the chains once more. With the right amount of pressure applied, they would break. But he wouldn’t be able to do it if they kept bleeding him. Demery’s white protective suit glared obscenely against the sand. The vamp was enjoying the blood, sucking it down in quick bursts as Reaper refilled the cup. Soon Demery’s senses would dull. His reactions would slow. That’s when Morgan would strike.
chapter twenty-six
R
ed awoke slowly, stretching her arms over her head as she groaned. She opened her eyes and jackknifed up. It took a few breaths to recall where she was and why she was here. The room was dark and quiet. She glanced at the bunk next to her, which hadn’t been touched if the neat sheets were any indication. Where was Morgan?
She rose, grabbed her clothes, and made her way to the showers. She expected to find him splashing away, but the faucets were quiet. Red glanced at the floor, but it was barely damp. If he’d used them, it had been awhile ago.
She turned on the water and jumped under the spray. It felt wonderful, but she didn’t have time to linger. She wanted to find Morgan and check on his progress with the transmitter. Red finished showering and threw on her clothes. She walked down the dimly lit hall. She couldn’t be the only one up. She glanced at her watch in shock as the time registered. Why had he let her sleep so long? It was beginning to be a habit.
Red entered the room that held the spare scraps of equipment Jonah had collected over the years. Jonah sat at a desk opposite of where she’d last seen Morgan. Morgan’s work space held a crude-looking compunit transmitter and receiver that was much larger than the ones they normally used. Red rubbed her bare skin, suddenly missing Rita.
“Where’s Morgan?” she asked before he had time to turn around.
“Good morning to you, too,” Jonah said, swiveling his chair to look at her.
“Sorry, good morning,” she said, running a hand through her wet hair to detangle it.
Jonah smiled, then went back to reading the paper in his hands. “He should be back soon. Why don’t you have some breakfast?” He pointed out the door in the direction of the food dispensing station, except that wasn’t what Jonah had called the room. He’d called it a kitchen.
Red was hungry, but she wasn’t about to eat until she found Morgan. “Where did he go?” she asked. And why hadn’t he gotten her up so she could go with him?
Jonah looked up. “A friend of yours arrived asking for him. Apparently, he needed help. Morgan went with him to assist,” he said.
Red frowned. “A friend? What did this friend look like?” Her stomach tightened, strangling a hunger pang before it had a chance to turn into a growl.
“He was wearing a white protective suit,” Jonah said. “Here, see for yourself.” He pressed a button and a vid popped up of Morgan and Demery. They were talking low, but the outpost recording devices still picked up the majority of the conversation. Demery and his blood had somehow escaped the Sand Devils. The vid ended with Red still staring at the screen. Her apprehension grew.
“How long have they been gone?” she asked, glancing at her watch.
Jonah scratched his head. “Can’t rightly say. Morgan did tell me that he wanted you to man this device.” He pointed to the mess on the table. “Said he was expecting to hear back from the Eye of God.”
“The Eye of God?” As if on cue, the receiver crackled and a voice tried to emerge from the static.
“. . . Hunter? Eye . . . God here. . . . can’t hear. . . . might . . . you.”
“Ah,” Jonah said. “That would be him now.”
Red raced toward the transmitter. “What do I do?” she asked, staring at the mess. It looked nothing like the equipment she was used to dealing with at work.
“Press that button,” Jonah said, pointing to a black button in the middle of the tangle of wires.
“This is Morgan’s mate, Gina Santiago, over. Can you hear me?”
Static blurred into white noise as Red turned up the volume. “I don’t think he heard me,” she said.
“Give him a minute,” Jonah said. “You’re not exactly using state-of-the-art equipment.”
A hiss howled out of the machine. “Have news,” the garbled voice said.
“Could you repeat that?” she asked, straining to hear.
“Missing . . . vid shows possible . . . abduction,” he said.
Red’s heart clenched. Who was missing? This damn machine was useless. She reached out to touch the mic and the receiver popped again. She jumped back as the garbled message continued.
“Bad news . . . Robert Santiago . . . missing. Believed . . . kidnapped. Announced . . . min— . . . ago. Blame you. Montgomery . . . reward. Turn . . . yourself in.”
Red’s throat tightened, cutting off her air. She hadn’t heard everything the Eye of God had to say, but it had been enough to piece together. Her grandfather had been kidnapped and they were trying to blame her and Morgan. She looked over her shoulder at Jonah, who was staring at her with empathy in his eyes. The room spun and she barely made it into the chair before her legs gave out.
“I’m sorry,” Jonah said. “I take it that man’s related to you somehow.”
She choked down the lump in her throat. “He’s my grandfather. I have to go.”
“But he said they think you’re behind the kidnapping,” Jonah said.
“I know what he said.” She ground her teeth until her jaw hurt. “But I also know who has him. I should’ve known he’d do something like this when he couldn’t find us.” Red jumped out of the chair and kicked a nearby cabinet. The metal sound reverberated throughout the room. “So stupid.” She clenched her fists.
“You couldn’t have known,” Jonah said.
Red laughed, the sound maniacal to her ears. “That’s where you’re wrong. I�
��ve been through enough with Roark that I should have known. I have to go get him.” Red’s mind was already churning over the possibilities. It would take three to four days minimum to get back to the boundary fence. They could do it, if they moved at a fast enough clip. She needed to get packed and make sure they had enough supplies. She’d taken two steps when the alarms inside the building went off. “What’s happening?” she shouted over the deafening drone.
“Towers have spotted something,” he said, his fingers flying over multiple buttons. “Report!”
“Sand Devils spotted on the feed. Approximately four miles out.”
“When was it recorded?” Jonah asked, his bushy brows shadowing his eyes. His face creased with concern.
“Thirty minutes ago,” Razor said.
“Are they coming toward us?” Jonah asked.
“No, sir. They don’t appear to be.”
“Then why did you sound the alarm?” he asked, shaking his head. “Damn guards are always breaking protocol,” Jonah muttered more to himself than to Red.
“We spotted something else when we reviewed the feed,” Razor said. “Thought you might like to see it.”
Red watched as a picture appeared on the screen. Razor was holding some kind of scope in his hands. He placed the camera next to the scope and hit a button. Two tiny figures appeared on the screen. Red couldn’t tell what they were until the sun hit Demery’s white suit. A moment later the unmistakable flash of a laser pistol blast appeared and the figure without the suit on dropped to the ground.
Her heart stopped and she couldn’t breathe. She felt as if her body was being ripped in two. The pain radiated, causing her limbs to twitch.
It could’ve been anybody. Morgan would’ve been too fast to get caught by a laser blast. Possible explanations raced through her mind until black dots appeared in her vision. Red quickly blinked them away. Moments later the feed showed the Sand Devils arriving, then everyone was loaded into the vehicles. They raced off and the recording ended.
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