by L. E. Wilson
"Don't look so gloomy, luv. She won't get away with it in the long run. There are too many flaws in her plan," he continued.
"Such as?"
"For one, she has to use Luukas' vampires to create those things. If she attempts to use her own vampires, ones she turns herself, they deteriorate into these disgusting grey monsters within days. Her blood isn't strong enough inside of them to handle the possession. They begin to rot almost as soon as they are taken over, and don't last very long. Second, I've learned since arriving here that her hybrids seem to have a plan of their own. I think they are using her, and not the other way around. Those blokes up there," he pointed towards the ceiling. "They're up to something."
She didn't bother hiding her suspicion as she asked, "How do you know?"
"I can sense it," he told her honestly. "Just like I can sense when they're near, and they can sense me."
It didn't take her long to put two and two together. "They know you're here."
It wasn't a question.
"I'm so sorry, luv," he told her earnestly. "I think they're sticking around because they can feel me here. I didn't realize. Not until we were already trapped down here."
"Can you feel it?" she asked after a moment. "The thing inside of you?"
"Sometimes," he answered honestly. "Although I didn't recognize what it was at first."
"What does it feel like?" She wrapped her arms around her middle.
He tried to find the words to describe it. "It was quite subtle at first. Just a strange fluttering in my belly. But then, when we were at that new building rescuing your pet, that's when it really got bizarre."
"How so?"
How to explain it without her thinking he was off his rocker, or frightening her more than she already was? "I started feeling things after the others arrived. I was feeling emotions, and urges, but they weren't my own." He glanced up at her, uncertain of how much he should say, but he supposed it was only fair for her to know what it was exactly, that she was imprisoned with. "He's not nice, and I can't control him, poppet. It's like a wound, festering inside of me now. Unlike the others, however, he's decided to hide out for the most part. But apparently he has taken quite a fancy to you." He grinned at her, trying to lighten the mood. "I can't say that I blame him."
"Yeah, which is why he scared the crap out of me earlier."
"Well," Aiden told her coolly. "You shouldn't lie."
"I think we have bigger issues here than my little white lies."
"Such as?" he asked innocently.
She threw her arms up in exasperation. "Such as you have a demon inside of you, you loon, and we don't know when he's going to reappear. What if he decides to pop his ugly head up again while I'm sleeping, or in the shower, or if we're..." She trailed off, a blush creeping over her face and neck.
"If we're...what?" he teased with a sexy half-smile.
She glowered at him until he chuckled.
Mojo started making little noises, and she watched him bristle up at one of her shoes.
When she raised her eyes back to his, hers were large and worried. "What are we going to do, Aiden?"
He scratched his head. Good question, that.
Scooting off the bed, he sauntered across the small room to her. He waited for her to shy away from him like she had before, or to run back to the loo in fear. But though he heard her heart speed up with his every step, she raised her chin and held her ground.
His brave girl.
Tucking her hair behind one ear, he ducked his head until they were face to face. "I won't let anyone hurt you, poppet. Not even me," he told her fervently. "I swear it."
Now if only he knew how to keep that promise.
***
Grace wanted to believe him, she really did. But she was afraid that it wasn't something he could control.
And what if this was all a big ruse on his part? What if he really was one of those things, and it was just acting like the vampire Aiden used to be? What if it was all a big plot to get at the thing it wanted? The thing that she had in her possession?
Listen to me closely, Grace. This is important. If the time ever comes that you meet one, never, ever, trust a vampire. They're beautiful and charming and everything you want them to be, but believe me when I tell you that you can't trust them. They only use you for what they want. And they are loyal to no one but themselves and others like them. You'll be left with nothing but a broken heart. If you're left alive at all.
Her mother had trusted a vampire once; a vampire that had charmed his way right into her bed. She had told Grace the entire story shortly before she had died.
He had fed from her, and made love to her, and drove her insane with wanting him. She'd been on the verge of leaving her beloved husband and child when all hell had broken loose within the coven and they'd decided to flee. Her father had wanted to leave immediately, but her mother had been so obsessed with that vampire that she couldn't bear to leave without telling him. So, she'd made up an excuse, and while her husband was packing some of their things, she ran to her lover to say goodbye.
And he had betrayed her.
The vampire had gone straight to the new High Priest as soon as she'd left and made a deal with him. He'd ratted out her parents and the rest of the families who were going to make a run for it without a second thought for the woman he'd claimed to care about.
Her father had killed that vampire while she and her mom had escaped. But he'd received a fatal injury in the process. He hadn't remained alive long enough to join them.
Her eyes slid over to the black bag, still in the cubby where Aiden had put it. The box was inside of it. The one both the humans and the demons were after.
Grace knew the moment she'd seen the picture of the dagoba under the red felt bottom that the box was what they were after. She just didn't know why.
She'd spent the last few days trying to reason it out: A dagoba was a type of tombstone for monks. The largest group of them was in the Forest of the Dagobas of Shaolin Temple. They were all different, depending on the monk, and they all had different inscriptions on them. Each one was unique.
But why would a detailed etching of one be hidden under the felt padding of a wooden box? Unless it was some kind of sign? Maybe some kind of clue?
There were many rumors surrounding the Shaolin Monks, some were true, and some were not. And some were only speculation and hadn't been proven either way. However, she'd never heard anything of consequence concerning the dagobas. Nothing that a demon would want with them anyway.
But it had to be the box they were after. There was nothing else in the bag of any significance.
Unable to figure out why the box was such a hot property, she'd done the only other thing she could think of to get herself out of this mess.
She'd snuck out while Aiden was sleeping and made a deal with the Suits. She'd give them the box, and in exchange, they would allow her and Aiden to leave.
She smiled at Aiden. "I know you won't let anyone hurt me."
And neither will I.
Chapter Twenty
Christian paced his hot cell, waiting for the girl to come back, the girl with hair like the last hushed rays of sunset.
He'd been here for weeks, stuck in this...display case or whatever the fuck it was, and it was the same thing day after day. No one ever came except for the girl.
Every day she walked through that door and into the empty room on the other side of his glass wall. The music would start up in a hypnotic rhythm as soon as she entered, and she'd strut over to the stripper pole and dance for him.
She never spoke. She never looked at him. She would dance her little striptease until she was wearing nothing but the tiniest G-string, then the music would stop and she would gather her things and leave out the same door she came in.
And every day, he paced like a caged animal, waiting for her. Even knowing that lusting after her sultry curves would bring him nothing but more agony.
He was going fucking insane in t
his steel box. No matter what he tried, he couldn't make so much as a dent in the steel walls and ceiling, or the one freaky glass wall that gave him his view of his own personal Calypso. No matter how hard he hit it, it would just bend out like rubber and snap back to its original shape.
He licked his dry lips. He was so thirsty; he hadn't fed in a long time. He needed blood, and a bath. However, that was really the least of his problems.
Christian stopped pacing when the door opened at the end of the room. His entire body began to tremble as the girl entered the room and ambled over to the pole.
She was wearing gold today. Instant pain wracked through his body at the mere sight of her, pulsing in time to the erotic beat of Nine Inch Nails that suddenly filled the room. He wanted to turn away, to just fucking ignore her, but he couldn't not look at her.
His fangs shot down into his mouth instantly, and his tongue flicked out to tease the tips, drawing blood. Licking his lips again, he tasted the salt of the sweat running down his face, and as she swayed to the music, he palmed the hard bulge pressing against the front of his pants.
He knew it wouldn't do any good. He couldn't make himself come. But it felt so fucking good, he couldn't help himself. At least until she left, and he was left rock hard with aching balls, while his muscles cramped with pain until he was screaming on the floor like a pussy.
Whatever it was that had happened to him after Luukas disappeared, these assholes knew exactly how to make his life hell with it. Stick a pretty girl in front of him to seduce him, but not let him touch her. Ever.
He needed to fuck, and he needed to feed, and he needed to do both as soon as possible, before he lost his fucking mind.
Before he'd been taken off the streets of Seattle and brought here, he was going through four to eight girls a night to keep the muscle cramps away. He'd never tried going this long without sex before. Two days had been his limit, and he'd nearly raped Shea at the end of it.
He vaguely wondered if Shea and Dante were going through similar tortures, or if he was the only one who'd been taken.
The girl suddenly stopped dancing in front of the pole and leaned back against it to face him. As always, he wished she would look up, but she didn't.
Ever so slowly, she pulled down the spaghetti straps of her silky crop top, then reached around to untie the back. The soft material slithered off of her, revealing the perfect mounds of her breasts with their large, dusky nipples.
Christian moaned aloud and slammed the glass with one hand, all thoughts of his friends completely forgotten. Leaning his forehead against it, he kept her in his sights while his other hand undid his pants and slid inside to fist his cock.
She dropped her top onto the floor and spread her legs wide. One of her hands slid across her thigh to disappear under her sheer skirt while the other one moved across her ribcage to cup her breast. It spilled out of her small hand as she fondled herself, pinching her nipple until it was hard, and then moving to the other side.
As the song Closer pulsed through his skull he watched, mesmerized. This was new. She'd never touched herself in front of him before.
Her head fell back against the pole, exposing her slender throat and the artery pulsing there, and his cock jumped in his hand. It took everything he had to remain upright and not to give in to his cramping muscles as his body tortured him for teasing it.
His breath was coming in heavy pants, matching the rhythm of her heaving chest as she became more and more excited. He squeezed himself tight, the pain nothing compared to the burning acid that was streaming through his limbs.
He was going to die like this.
The thought almost made him laugh. Death from lack of sex. What a way to go. But it was probably true. He felt like a drug addict going through withdrawals from hell. His heart was probably going to give out before he ever made it out of here.
Suddenly, she lifted her head and looked straight at him. Sapphire blue irises ringed with black stared into his own amber ones. The whites were bloodshot, and she had dark bruises under her eyes.
Her mouth went slack with desire, and her eyes closed again as she came, her body convulsing beneath her hands as her legs gave out and she slid down the pole.
Christian cried out with her, and smashed his head into the glass wall. His hand squeezed his cock until he thought it was gonna pop right off. His chest heaved, his legs and shoulders seized with pain, but he couldn't bring himself relief.
His palm streaked down the unbreakable glass as he collapsed to his knees. He lifted his head at the same time she did, and they stared at each other.
A single tear slid down her cheek as he pressed his forehead to the glass again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Aiden let Grace's long hair trickle through his fingers as he watched her sleep, his inner demon happy to stay dormant again for the moment. He leaned back against the wall as he had earlier. Her head was in his lap, and her scent wrapped around him like a warm blanket as she slept.
He ached for her, physically and spiritually. It was bloody painful, this need he had to bury himself inside of her, to become a part of her.
His gums burned, his fangs ready to pop down at the slightest provocation, and he hissed softly as he pulled his lips back, seeking some relief. It didn't really help.
However, he was rather enjoying the anticipation of tasting her - in more ways than one.
Gazing down at her face, peaceful in sleep, he was again surprised at this trust she had in him after all he'd told her. She seemed to be taking him at his word that he wouldn't hurt her, and they'd picked up their normal routine again, only she was speaking to him now. Which was nice.
He'd discovered...by plying her with endless questions...that she often tried to use her healing powers to help patients undergoing heart surgery at the hospital where she worked, and that she had yet to succeed.
He could hear the frustration in her voice that she couldn't save them, and knew exactly how she was feeling. But she was wrong. Her powers weren't useless. Not at all. He could feel her power simmering beneath the surface, and believed that she only needed something to give it a boost before she would reach her full potential.
She'd asked him to tell her about his life, and he had. Fascinated with all he had seen and experienced, she'd sat quietly while he told her a number of outrageous stories. Most were true, some he'd embellished just a bit. But it was worth it to keep her mind off of the elephant in the room.
Or in this case, the demon.
It hadn't worked. She'd insisted on talking about it, and so they had. After coming at it from every possible angle and having no new ideas, she'd eventually succumbed to her exhaustion and curled up on his lap to sleep.
His chest tightened. He needed to get them out of there, and soon. He could feel his craving to keep this quirky, secretive female intensify by the moment, and if he didn't get away from her soon, he was afraid he might never want to. In spite of her horrible habit of calling him "dude".
Would that really be such a terrible thing?
Yes! Yes, it would.
He scowled at the mere idea. For one, he had his own problems right now, the greatest of which being this bugger of a demon hitching a ride inside his body. Two, he didn't want to be tied down like stodgy ole Nikulas.
But then he sighed in resignation a second later, knowing that he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all himself.
As he absent-mindedly played with the soft strands of her hair, he set to figuring out a plan to escape this coffin they'd inadvertently trapped themselves in. She should have never come back here once she'd gotten out.
Except that her Mojo was here. He wondered why she hadn't just taken him with her and escaped? If she'd made it to a store to by something for her ruse, why not run off? Could it be she did care for him? Just a little?
Another good hour of brainstorming later, he arrived at the only possible conclusion. He would just have to fight his way out, hopefully distracting the demon hybrids away from
Grace so she could escape. He would tell her to call Nik at the number on her phone. Nik would get her off of this continent safely.
As for him, well, maybe his bloody demon would finally come out to play. It was the only way he'd have a chance against the bastards outside.
But if he did, what would happen to him? Aiden? Would he ever be himself again?
The thought sobered him. He needed to get Grace away from him sooner rather than later, for he'd promised her that he wouldn't hurt her. And he always kept his promises.
His inner clock told him the sun would be coming up soon. They'd leave at sundown the following night, just as soon as he could safely risk being outside.
Suddenly, the wall behind him shuttered against his back.
Aiden's hand stilled in Grace's hair as he listened. He heard Mojo scratching in his litter box, and the slight hum of the cameras on the monitors, but nothing else.
A frown creased his brow as he cupped his hand under Grace's head and slid out from underneath her, gently settling her back down on the bed. Walking over to the desk, he checked out the live feed.
There was not one demon on the screen.
One eyebrow went up, but otherwise his face remained passive. This didn't bode well at all. Where the bloody hell were they all?
Then he heard it. A scratching sound like nails on a chalkboard, so faint human ears wouldn't have noticed it. It came directly from the wall behind Grace.
The dimwits had finally figured it out. They were digging down to them.
Sure enough, the sound came again, louder this time, followed by a clank as they hit the outside of the shelter with something hard.
Everything went quiet and still for the span of a few heartbeats, and then everything happened at once.
Aiden burst into action as the things outside started slamming something against the outer side of the wall.
Grace's eyes fluttered open, and she jumped from the bed to stand in the middle of the floor, disoriented from being woken so suddenly.