by Amber Kallyn
He hissed at her, his gaze zeroing in on the pulse at her neck.
She scrambled backwards, not getting very far as his free hand clamped painfully on her shoulder. “Oh no you don’t. I’m not dinner.”
Her heartbeat pounded loud enough to drown out the music from above. She shuddered beneath his feral gaze as his fingers dug into her shoulder.
Time stopped. Thought halted. Instinct took over.
She punched him while at the same time, she shoved her knee into his groin.
He howled, tumbling to the ground beside her.
After taking a deep breath, she sat up again, easing as far from him as she could manage.
When he shook his wrist, she tensed, ready to be jerked back.
Instead, he raised his head, staring at her with confusion shining from eyes slowly bleeding back to blue.
Then he glared at her. “What the hell?”
“The hell is right.” She sat straighter, now that he was back. “You just tried to eat me.”
He blinked, struggling to sit up, then stared at the handcuff around his wrist. “Fuck.”
“Correct again,” she replied tartly.
He grabbed the cuff with his free hand and tugged on it, then looked at her, his mouth a grim line. “Magic.”
“Great. What next?” she mumbled, staring at her own cuff.
“Torture and dismemberment?” he asked.
She shot him a glare. “At least now that you’re awake I don’t have to contemplate dragging your sorry carcass around.”
He rose to his feet, and held out his hand. She stared at it for a long moment before letting him help her up. They crossed the room, Brandon letting out a low whistle at the items on the other side. “Someone certainly enjoys their sport.”
“Someone? Like Sebastian?”
Brandon grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. “You saw Lucerne?”
“No. But who else would it be? This is his club.”
“Something tells me it’s not quite so simple.”
She shrugged. “We need to get Shana and leave this freaky place. Later, we can decide who’s behind it.”
Brandon glanced around the room, then said softly, “I don’t think it’s going to be so easy.”
She followed his gaze, not seeing anything but another wall. Then it hit her. She turned, searching for a door that wasn’t there.
***
Brandon wanted to rail, to bust through the walls holding them. Anything it took to get Celeste out of here and somewhere safe.
As he reached out to try to rip at one of the bricks in the wall, faintness swept through him.
They wouldn’t be going far. He didn’t know if it was only blood loss, or partly magic, but his strength was diminished.
That pissed him off even more.
“There’s got to be a door somewhere. Hidden in the wall, hidden by magic. It doesn’t matter.” She pulled him along one wall, running her hands over the brick.
Pushing down his boiling fury, he assured himself they’d find it. There was no other option he’d accept.
He started searching, using his hands to feel, trying to see past any magic.
They circled the room without finding a damn thing.
“Can’t you just... break it?” Celeste asked, her gaze full of hope.
He could have kicked himself as his weakness flared, leaving him feeling drained and useless. He stomped over to the corner they’d been left in and slumped against the wall. “You got any food hidden in your pockets?”
Her eyes widened as she realized his point. “You need blood, don’t you?”
“A nice roast beef sandwich would help, but yeah.”
Slowly, she inched toward him, thoughts flashing over her face. Her back straightened, that damn stick coming back. Lifting her chin, she stared into his eyes. “I have blood.”
His mouth dropped open. He snapped it shut. He hadn’t even considered it, for a couple of reasons. “You don’t like me biting you.”
“I never said that.” She drew closer, refusing to look away. “I said don’t ever do it again without my permission.”
The very thought proved to Brandon he wasn’t quite as weak as he’d thought. He grew hard, his pulse speeding at the images racing through his mind.
“You realize how one becomes a vampire, right?”
She blinked, shook her head.
“Every time you’re bitten, the virus courses through your blood. A vampire drinks enough of your blood, gets enough of virus inside you, and you’ll turn.”
She nibbled her lower lip and his gaze was drawn to the movement. What kind of sick bastard was he that thoughts of laying her down on the floor, of taking her right now, damn the life-threatening danger they were in, wouldn’t go away.
“My sister is here somewhere. We’re trapped. I don’t see potentially becoming a vampire as worse than death for all of us.” She leaned against him, trailing one finger up his abs and chest.
Then she tipped her head back, baring her throat to his gaze.
Hard and throbbing, he couldn’t look away from the beating pulse just beneath her tender skin.
“Bite me,” she demanded. “Get us out of here.”
He should resist. He desperately wanted to bite her. Confusion swirled as he stared at her face. Confidence, surety, reflected to him from her chocolate gaze.
And deep down, one thought coalesced. He had to save her. He couldn’t bear if anything happened to her. He could get her out, get her safe.
His fangs descended as he leaned closer.
Her scent was like an aphrodisiac, ramping up not just his lust, but his hunger, to a crazed level.
He licked her velvety skin, then bit down. Sweet blood filled his mouth and he drank deeply, greedily. He grabbed her ass, pulling her closer.
She moaned, from pleasure or pain, he wasn’t sure, as she pressed herself against him.
As he drank, strength flowed into his body. And in his chest, something softened.
Warmed.
In a flash of clarity, he realized his feelings for this strong, brave woman were so much more than sexual desire.
He pulled back, still hungry, but unwilling to take more. He had enough to do what was needed.
Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes contrasting from paler-than-normal cheeks. Her lips curled in a small grin.
“Celeste?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
She opened her eyes. “Wow.”
“Are you all right?”
Blinking, she said, “Yeah. Let’s go.”
He stared at the blank walls, trying to ignore the rampaging emotion inside. And he realized the sounds of music had cut off some time ago. If that meant the night-club was now closed, their jailors would be coming.
Soon.
He shook his head to clear the worry. He didn’t have time for such things. When he opened his eyes, he scanned the walls. A glimmer appeared in the opposite corner of the room. There, then gone.
Slowly, he approached it, staring at the bricks.
Another shimmer of refracted light coming from nothing.
Brandon reached the corner, held out his hands. This time, he felt a slight warmth, a tingling, that told him magic was at play.
Perhaps he’d been more drained than he’d realized. With Celeste’s blood now coursing through him, the light grew until just behind it, he could make out a rusted metal door.
“What do you see?” she asked, blinking at the walls. “Did you find it?”
“Yes.” He touched the wall, but still felt only brick. The magic was strong.
He would damn well be stronger.
With a skip in his heartbeat, he glanced at her, taking in her shining strength and her trust in him.
Then he reared back and slammed his fist against the wall. A loud metal bang reverberated through the basement room.
Celeste jumped, staring at the wall.
Brandon searched, but there wasn’t even a small dent. The ma
gic was stronger than he’d expected.
Then it wavered.
Someone was coming.
And he didn’t think he’d be able to get Celeste out in time.
“When we get out of here,” he said, “run. Get outside. Call Shane and let him know what’s going on.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “I’m not leaving without my sister.”
The magic grew dimmer as whoever was controlling it either approached, or played mind games with him. The brick wall shimmered, disappeared, replaced by a thick iron door.
“The only way we’ll get your sister out is with backup.”
Her chin rose stubbornly.
“Do you want to save her?” he demanded, his voice more harsh than intended from worry as the magic dimmed further.
Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “Fine. But he better get here fast.”
He reared back and slammed his fist against the door again. With the magic so much weaker this time, the dull thud left a deep impression on the metal.
“Here we go,” he mumbled. He drew back, ready to bust through the door.
The magic disappeared completely.
Their time was up.
On the other side, a screeching laugh rose. The door flew open, revealing only darkness.
Agonizing heat raced up his arm from the handcuff, immobilizing him. He couldn’t scream as his jaw locked from the pain.
“Kneel,” a voice commanded from the darkness.
He strained against the order, but nothing helped. He fell to his knees.
Celeste grabbed his shoulder, urging him back up. He couldn’t turn his head to look at her, couldn’t find his voice to explain. To tell her to do whatever she must to get away, now.
“Such a good little pet.” The man’s voice held a light, musical tone as he left the shadows and stepped into the light.
Chapter seventeen
Celeste stared from a kneeling Brandon to the man striding closer. The same “Master” who’d broken into her house and kidnapped Shana. His dark eyes brightened with an eerie yellowish glow.
She tried to step forward, but the chain holding her to Brandon didn’t have much slack. “Where’s my sister?”
The man blinked, glancing at her, then shrugged. “Andre, finish cuffing our Viking warrior here.”
The little man who’d been at the club with Sebastian scurried forward, snapping another set of cuffs on Brandon’s wrists, binding both hands behind his back.
Andre unlocked the chain holding her to Brandon, then reached for her free hand.
Bastard didn’t see her move as she plowed a closed fist against the side of his head. Stunned, he reeled back, then surged forward. He crashed into her, sending them both to the floor.
“Enough,” the master commanded. “She’s a mortal, and a woman at that.”
Andre snapped his fangs at her face. She relaxed her body, readying for another attack. Quicker than she could see, he rolled to her side and stood up, bending over her. As he reached for her hands, she jerked her feet up and smashed them against his chest, sending the little jerk flying.
Then more hands were on her, yanking her to her feet.
The master drew forward, his movements smooth as if he were gliding rather than walking. The world wavered before her eyes, blurring before coming clear again.
“Well, well. What have we here?” The master leaned in, sniffing her neck. “You let the little pet share your blood.”
Fear rushed through Celeste, some primal feeling coming not from rationality, but a dark place hidden deep inside. This man made her skin crawl from his very presence.
***
“Come,” the man said, spinning fluidly.
Brandon jerked up to his feet like some puppet and began following the guy, shooting Celeste a pleading glance, begging for her forgiveness.
The little runt, Andre, grabbed her hands, yanked them behind her back, and cuffed her. He shoved her forward with a sickening giggle of glee.
Celeste turned her head, pinning him with a glare, promising retribution. That shut him up.
With a scowl, he pushed her forward again, but without much strength behind it.
She strode forward, following Brandon to the stairs, refusing to let him out of her sight.
There was no question in her mind what was going on. The man in the robe had to be the sorcerer. He’d put Brandon under some kind of spell.
What she wanted to know was whether Brandon could break out of it, or if she was on her own.
She didn’t know if she could save them all by herself, but she’d give it her damn well best.
“Where’s my sister?” she called.
The sorcerer shrugged as he continued up the steep staircase.
A minute later, they left the stairs. They were in the main club, behind the bar. Along the wall, a hidden door silently slipped back into place.
The sorcerer led Brandon to the edge of the dance floor.
A disco ball rotated eerily above, sending refracted, disconnected light through the shadowy room.
The air was so cold, she could see ghostly puffs of breath each time she breathed.
The atmosphere had been wiped of the recent cheerful crowds of party goers. All that remained was a heavy oppression that matched the gloom.
The sorcerer snapped his fingers. From the shadows, hooded figures rushed to the edge of the dance floor and pulled on the edges of the wooden platform. It split open down the middle and slid apart a few feet. A mechanical buzzing began as the two pieces of the dance floor rose like a bridge rising for a passing ship below.
Under the platform was concrete. In the center, a dais rose. The dance floor, now vertical, slid seamlessly into recessed panels, sinking down towards the basement.
The hooded figures melted back into darkness as the sorcerer approached the table. “Come,” he commanded.
Stiff-legged, Brandon took a few, staggering steps forward. The muscles in his arms bunched, as if he fought with every last bit of strength.
Celeste planted her feet and refused to move as she glanced at the many, now familiar, runes painted on the floor in what looked like blood.
“Bring the other girl,” the sorcerer crowed.
A rustle came from the other side of the room, then a sharp cry. Shana was pushed out onto the concrete, wind milling her arms as she stumbled forward.
Self-control forgotten, Celeste raced to her sister’s side.
Blue and purple blossomed over the right side of her face. Dried blood hid some of the bruise, but not much. Shana’s eye was swollen closed.
“You bastard,” Celeste hissed at the sorcerer.
He winked. “Actually I am, bless my mother’s sinful soul. But that’s neither here nor there.”
She took a step forward, putting herself between Shana and this guy. “Wow. So strong, beating a helpless girl.”
His mouth thinned, deep furrows etching into his forehead. His voice grew harsh. “It’s not the beating I enjoy.”
Her hands fisted behind her back.
“Come, darling girl.”
Behind her, Shana mumbled denial, but she stood and walked around Celeste, heading for the sorcerer’s side.
Celeste tried to grab her, but was limited with the handcuffs.
Shana stopped in front of the sorcerer, head down, hands trembling.
He grasped her chin, lifting Shana’s face to bare her neck. He licked alongside her throat, staring at Celeste. “Yum.”
He pushed Shana to the side and took a step toward Celeste. “Have you ever tasted another’s fear? Not fright, no. It must be bone-deep, from the darkest place inside the mind, fear.”
She didn’t reply.
“It’s ambrosia.” His eyes flashed a glowing yellow. “It’s life sustaining.”
“So, what, you’re like a vampire but without the blood drinking?”
He grinned, flashing fangs. “Oh, no. I drink blood too. But fear is so much better. So much more... rejuvenating.”<
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His eyes brightened, and the world around her wavered.
“Come to me,” he whispered, although his lips didn’t move. His voice echoed, like it was coming from inside her head. “Join me. You’re so strong, not like your weak sister. There’s so much we could do. Together.”
Celeste fought his spell, but her foot slid forward of its own will.
“That’s right. Come to me.”
“Celeste!” Brandon’s voice broke through the haze in her mind.
Still, she inched forward, her body not under her own control.
Fear rose, fear like he’d spoken about.
Chapter eighteen
Brandon sank his fangs deep into his tongue. The pain helped.
Celeste slowly drew closer to the sorcerer, her eyes glassy, out of focus. The damn man had caught her in his spell.
And Brandon knew what would happen when she reached the man. He’d taste her.
Straining against the mind-hold that trapped him into uselessness, Brandon’s anger rose and he realized the power holding him had dimmed as the sorcerer concentrated on Celeste. The guy might be powerful, but he still only had a limited amount of magic.
He let himself relax, embracing his fury.
The world washed in pink, slowly darkening to berserker red.
He fed his anger, thinking of the sorcerer drinking from Celeste.
The red darkened, his ancestor’s instinct taking over, pushing the dark magic from his mind and body.
With a roar, he surged to his feet and rushed at the sorcerer, vowing to kill the man before he could harm Celeste.
Everything went black, though he could still hear, still feel.
The man’s voice whispered to him, “Such a strong one. A great pet you’ll make for me, just like you did for my beloved mother. Do you know how happy I was that they sent you to find me? Although your weakling of a brother would have been nearly as good.”
His vision came back, and once more, the evil magic wrapped him tight, unmoving.
Disbelief filled him.
The sorcerer had stopped his berserker instincts. He couldn’t even move his head, only roll his eyes to glance at Celeste.