I shook my head and frowned. What reaction? “I don’t understand,” I told him.
“Of course you don’t.” He was so condescending it took me by surprise when he continued. Maybe he liked having a truly captive audience. “How much do you know about, what was her name, Anasztaizia?” I nodded. “Mmmm, yes, well, what do you know about her boyfriend?”
“Only that she has one,” I answered cautiously. “She doesn’t talk much about him.”
“I would imagine not,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “Well, if she did talk about him to you, she might tell you they share a unique connection.”
“What kind of connection?”
“You wouldn’t understand even if I were to tell you. Suffice it to say, the drug’s objective is to block this connection.”
My heart skipped a beat as the impact of his words washed over me. He knew Aleksei was a vampire. He might just as well have shouted it from the rooftops. Aleksei and Anasztaizia had been together long enough that tuning in to her emotional state was second nature to the Russian vampire. If she was hurt or frightened or on any kind of emotional roller-coaster ride—kidnapped by a couple of psychos, for example—Aleksei would be able to sense it. And he could use their unique connection to find her.
But supposing the link between them could be disrupted in some way? It would leave Aleksei stumbling around in the dark, while giving Gus and Rat Boy the time to finish whatever it was Petrov wanted them to do to Anasztaizia. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that might be. Or what kind of effect it would have on Aleksei when he did find her.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
This was all about Aleksei.
Unfortunately, I had to assume the inhibitor intended for Anasztaizia could very well be working on me. My stomach suddenly churned at the thought, and the sting of bile coated the back of my throat. But I refused to give in to the feeling of defeat that threatened to wrap itself around me. There was no way to know if Petrov’s chemical compound was effective, but the vampire didn’t know about the ace up my sleeve.
I was a Promise, bound to an Original Vampire, and willing to bet the connection existing between Gabriel and myself was far stronger than the one Aleksei and Anasztaizia shared. It was certainly older, and that had to count for something. Would Petrov have taken such a factor into account while swishing his magic potion in his lab beaker? There was no way to know for sure, but I doubted it. If he hadn’t been able to recognize I was a Promise, then I felt confident his formula was effective only on bonds that were less than a hundred years old.
All you have to do is wait until your honey wakes up . . . he’ll find you. Mark my words, he will find you.
Providing of course that physical distance wasn’t a problem, because I had no idea where I was. Professor Aleksei’s Vampire 101 class hadn’t covered limitations that might compromise the strength of the bond between vampire and human. That was an unknown I could do nothing about. It seemed that Petrov wasn’t going to tell me anything more about the first drug. Why would he when he assumed it was a dud? But if he intended to inject me with anything else, then I needed to find out what it was. Knowledge is a powerful tool, and any information I could give Gabriel would help him find the right way to flush this crap from my body.
“So is this going to make me think Rat Boy is irresistible?” I asked Petrov.
“Rat . . . who?” The vampire raised a brow as I jerked my head toward the space over his shoulder. “Oh, I see.” He smirked. “No, I’m not sure there’s anything that can do that.”
He held my elbow, and I made myself relax my arm. It would be easier if he thought I’d already accepted the inevitable. Just as he was about to slide the point of the needle into my skin, I jerked my arm back. A drop of blood, brilliant as a ruby, glistened in the crook of my arm.
Petrov sucked in a breath between clenched teeth, making a hissing sound. His nostrils flared, and his eyes looked strangely glazed. “Bitch!” he snarled, waving the still full syringe in the air. “You’ve been keeping secrets!”
“Not really, you just made the wrong assumptions about me.” His reaction told me he knew I was something, but he wasn’t sure exactly what that might be. “It didn’t cross your mind that if Anasztaizia had a vampire for a boyfriend, I might have one as well?”
From the look on his face it was apparent this had never occurred to him. What an idiot! For a few moments he seemed lost in thought, probably wondering how he was going to get his sorry ass out of this mess. And then I watched as hubris got the better of him.
“Perhaps I should thank you,” he said.
“What for?” I asked uneasily.
“The opportunity to prove my inhibitor formula works.”
I snorted. “What makes you think it’s working?”
A frown creased his brow. “You’re right. I don’t, not really. I don’t even know if you feed a vampire, but let’s assume for the sake of argument you do. And let’s also assume a similar bond exists between you and said vampire.” He leaned forward and gave me a sick smile.
“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making.”
“Ah, but I don’t think they’re assumptions at all.” He looked at the blood stain on my arm. “I think you do feed a vampire, only you haven’t been doing it for long, which means the bond between you hasn’t had time to mature and strengthen. I want to know whether my serum will work, so we’re going to amplify your emotions, just to make certain your vampire lover is given every opportunity to come to your rescue.” He placed the still-full syringe on the ground before getting to his feet. “I need one of you to hold her and the other to stretch out her arm, palm flat on the ground,” he said, pointing to both Gus and Rat Boy.
I tried struggling, but I was no match for Gus. He unlocked the other manacle and had me face down on the concrete floor with such a minimum amount of effort, I knew I wasn’t the first woman he’d immobilized this way. With his knee on my back, he turned my head, pressing it to the ground, but making sure I could see Rat Boy as he yanked on my arm. Both of them laughed as Petrov broke my fingers one at a time.
I shrieked and screamed and made sounds I’d only ever heard from wild animals on TV nature programs. And when he was done, and Gus had rolled off me and Rat Boy had let go of my arm, I curled myself into a ball, barely able to hold my injured hand to my chest, and sobbed because it hurt so much.
“So . . . where is your vampire lover?” Petrov asked, his voice next to my ear. The pain in my hand was now coursing through my body and was so intense I couldn’t have uttered a single syllable even if I’d wanted to. I was certain having a single finger broken was bad enough, but Petrov had relished breaking all four, leaving my hand a swollen, misshapen mess. “It would seem that no one is coming for you,” he told me, feigning disappointment.
I couldn’t stop him as he pulled my swollen hand from my chest, but I snarled through my tears. He picked up the discarded syringe and injected the full dose into my arm, and when he was done, he followed it up by giving me the second one. A double dose. There was no way to know what I’d been injected with. It could be the Ebola virus or bubonic plague or mad cow disease. But I was very aware that I couldn’t allow Gabriel to feed from me as long as my blood was tainted.
Perhaps that was his plan . . .
“Did you make that for Anasztaizia too?” I sobbed as he put the empty syringes back in the case.
“Yes, but it can be used on any human.”
Are you still human? I mean, technically?
I gave my inner bitch the mental equivalent of a who knows? shoulder shrug.
“What do you want to do with her?” Gus asked. He seemed a little hesitant, but I think that was due more to Petrov’s unexpected reaction to me than to any real threat I might pose.
“I really don’t care. She’s of no use to me,” Petrov told him. “Do whatever you want.”
“Really?” Rat Boy, snickering like a perverted schoolboy with his first porno m
agazine, gave me a speculative look.
“Just make it quick, although I don’t think that will be a problem for you.” He gave Rat Boy a disdainful look before turning and addressing Gus. “She should last for about thirty minutes, but if I were you, I’d be gone long before that.”
“Why?”
“Just in case someone does come looking for her.”
“What’s gonna happen in thirty minutes?” Rat Boy piped up.
I don’t know if it was the second injection suddenly kicking in and giving me a rush, or maybe my brain releasing endorphins. Either way, my body recognized that if I was to survive whatever was coming, I needed help. The pain in my hand began to subside, changing from an agonizing shriek to a manageable pulsating throb. The change allowed me to focus on what was going on around me.
“What’s gonna happen in thirty minutes?” Rat Boy repeated, and I could hear the curiosity mingle with his excitement.
“She’ll be dead,” Petrov told him, “but if your sexual proclivities run to necrophilia . . .” He let the rest of his sentence hang.
Rat Boy looked confused.
“Fucking a corpse,” Gus told him.
I hurt too much to be impressed that he knew what Petrov was talking about. But at least I now knew what a double dose of his just-something-I’ve-been-playing-with formula was supposed to do.
Yeah, but that still doesn’t mean you’re going to die.
Well, I guessed we’d find out in about thirty minutes.
Chapter 7
Petrov vanished. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone. I didn’t know how it was that he could be awake during the day anyway, but for all I knew the stars could already be twinkling in a midnight sky.
If they were, Gabriel would already be here.
Okay, not nighttime then, but maybe close to sunset, and being in a pretty dark place—in more ways than one—was probably okay for the vampire.
I’d been telling myself that I could survive anything because Gabriel was coming for me. That was as certain as celebrating Independence Day on July 4, but the throbbing in my hand was making it difficult to hold onto that belief. Was Petrov’s inhibitor drug actually working as he intended? If so, then Gabriel wouldn’t be showing up anytime soon, and until he did I was on my own with homicidal Tweedledum and Tweedledee.
As for whether or not I was going to die, the validity of my demonic deal was about to get its first real test.
I dropped my swollen hand to my side, gritting my teeth as the tips of my fingers brushed against my leg. The pain had definitely lessened, but I think that was due to a combination of released endorphins and compressed nerves numbing my fingers. I gripped the bars with my good hand and pulled myself to my feet. No way in hell was I going to let these bastards touch me while I was on my knees.
“You have no idea what he is, do you?” I said, panting from exertion and looking at the morons watching me.
“What do you mean?” Rat Boy asked suspiciously. The constant movement of his hands was starting to give me a headache. Fiddling with his collar, tugging at his jacket, hitching up his jeans.
“Petrov. You’re completely clueless about what he really is.”
“He’s the guy who’s gonna give me a lot of cash to mess you up,” Gus said in a cold, calm voice that sent a shiver of fear down my spine.
I shook my head and realized trying to enlighten them was futile. They would never believe me.
“So what d’you think, Gus? You think she’s still got some fight in her?” Rat Boy had watched me struggle to my feet with something that could pass for reluctant admiration.
“Hard to say,” Gus replied. “Any bitch that’s cornered is unpredictable.”
“Yeah, but she’s only got one good hand, Gus. I don’t think she’ll fight. Maybe she would’ve before, but not now.”
The bigger man shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t make much difference either way. I just need to hear her scream.”
“Well, you’ve always been good at making them do that.” Rat Boy clearly idolized his bosom companion. “So, you wanna get started?”
I didn’t have to ask what Gus was going to get started on. The look on his face said it all.
Rape has its own particular violence, its own savagery, and the man who succumbs to its cruel lure, using it to crush the body and conquer the will of its victim, cannot help but be forever tainted by its evil. Make no mistake . . . rape is a weapon. Which explains why it was—and still is—such an effective way for conquering armies to subjugate and terrorize entire populations.
Knowing that you’re going to be raped is its own torture. Deciding how to react to the violence that will be committed is a choice I believe most women make without any hesitation. God knows, I’ve watched enough TV to know the most important thing a victim can do is survive. But when survival has already been taken off the table, it becomes a completely different ball game.
But was I going to survive? Until I had proof of the effect of my demonic bargain, I was taking nothing for granted. Besides, why would I think a demon would tell me the truth?
Because you kissed him?
Wow, you just can’t let that go, can you?
You would have known if he was lying.
When my inner bitch sounds this smug, it’s because what she’s about to tell me is something I either already know or should know.
You would have tasted it on his breath.
See what I mean?
Unfortunately, her words didn’t exactly fill me with confidence as I watched Gus pull his T-shirt over his head, revealing a tattoo of a coiled snake on his left pectoral. Dropping his hand to the waist of his jeans, he slowly unbuckled the belt at his waist before popping open the button on his fly. His zipper seemed unnaturally loud as he pulled it down, but to be honest, my own anxiety acted as an amplifier. I watched in disgust as he slipped a hand inside his pants and began stroking himself. With his gaze firmly fixed on my face, he watched for my reaction. I curled my lip and, with moisture I didn’t know I had in me, spat in his direction.
Unfazed, Gus continued to stroke himself. There was absolutely nothing sexual or erotic about what he was doing. No pump or grind accompanying the masturbation, and judging by the expression on his face, he didn’t seem to be getting any pleasure from it, which I found even more disturbing. But then again I’ve only ever watched one other man masturbate, and he definitely enjoyed it. Not as much as having me do it, but seeing Gabriel pleasure himself is something I find extremely erotic. And highly arousing.
It took me a moment or two to understand Gus’s intent. His indifference to the physical response his hand was eliciting made me realize this obscene perversion was an act of pure intimidation. Along with his well-muscled torso, the proof of his superior physical strength, the sight of his fully erect cock cresting from the opening of his jeans was an unspoken vile threat. And his composure was telling me he was in complete control.
“Just out of curiosity,” I said in a voice that was as indifferent as I could make it, “what makes you think someone isn’t already looking for me?”
“Why would they be?” Rat Boy sounded genuinely puzzled.
“I was in an accident, asshole.”
“Really?” His snickering was getting on my nerves and made me want to smack the ever-living snot out of him. “Where? When?” he taunted.
“The car—”
“—has gone. Mr. Petrov is very good at what he does.” Rat Boy sounded more than a little awed.
“That won’t stop my boyfriend,” I told him defiantly. “He’ll be looking for me—”
“He’d better get a move on then, ’cause your clock’s winding down.”
I looked at Gus. The coiled-snake tattoo seemed to sway slightly as he breathed.
Do you think if he gets real excited he can make it dance? You know, like those Indian snake charmers . . .
Gus peeled back the top of his jeans. His cock waved gently from side to side, and I forced a sm
ile to stretch my lips. He answered with one of his own, so I made my smile expand to a grin, and then backed that up with a giggle, which in turn became a throaty laugh. His smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of confusion that quickly morphed into simmering anger. Rat Boy just looked bewildered.
“Do you actually know what to do with that,” I asked, pointing a finger on my good hand at his crotch, “or is that all it does?” I waved my finger back and forth, goading him. Probably not the smartest thing to do—okay, definitely not the smartest thing to do—but I figured if I was going to be raped, I sure as shit wasn’t going down without a fight.
My kidnappers looked at each other. I’m not sure, but I think Rat Boy offered his opinion with a gesture that said I-think-she’s-off-her-rocker. I snapped my fingers in the air, making both of them look back at me. Taking a step forward, I stared Gus in the eye. The longer it took, the worse it was going to be, and I could only hide my fear with bravado for so long. It was time to dance.
“Okay, big boy,” I said scornfully, “you want to hear me scream? Let’s see if you can make me.” And crooking my forefinger, I beckoned him to me.
He narrowed his eyes and stared at me like I was deranged, which, at that precise moment, I probably was. There’s nothing more unpredictable than someone who truly believes they have nothing left to lose. It didn’t matter that the chemical cocktail I’d been given wasn’t meant for me in the first place. Petrov’s plan had been to make sure Aleksei couldn’t find Anasztaizia before these assholes had finished with her. Breaking my fingers had not brought Gabriel to my rescue, so I had to assume either I was too far away geographically or the drug was affecting his ability to find me. Either way, Gus and I were going to get to know each other.
And just in case my demon was wrong, I wanted Gabriel to know I’d not made it easy for my attacker.
I watched as Gus licked his lips. The physical disparity between us definitely was to his advantage, and my injured hand tipped the odds even more in his favor, but I could see he was rethinking how to approach me. I could read it in his eyes, in his expression, in the way the muscle below his right eye suddenly began to twitch. I didn’t need a college degree to know that I wasn’t being as submissive as his usual victims. There was no weeping or screaming or emotional breakdown. No begging him not to hurt me. All of which were probably triggers that got him off. Instead he was facing someone who gave the outward appearance of being calm and collected, and made him have doubts about who was really in charge.
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