“What are you doing?” she asked, moving to duck beneath his arm only to have him tighten his hold around her shoulders and move faster, giving her no other choice but to go with him.
“Taking a lovely late-night stroll with my sister,” Chris murmured thoughtfully, as he led her towards the black SUV parked in front of the old fire station.
“I need to take care of a few things,” Jill said, hoping to use however long it took her to close up her life here to figure out her next move.
“There’s nothing to take care of,” Ephraim said as he opened the back-passenger door for her. “It’s all gone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A minion set your apartment on fire this morning, Jill. They were able to put it out before anyone got hurt, but everything’s gone. We can’t protect you like this, not with that mark on your neck,” Chris said as she found herself climbing into the backseat as a thought occurred to her.
“Wait. What about Grandma?” she asked, trying not to panic as she moved to climb back out of the car only to find the door shut and-
Locked?
“What are you doing? Open the damn door!” she snapped only to feel her stomach drop as dread crawled up her spine when she spotted the large man behind the wheel as her father sealed her fate with a half-dozen softly spoken words.
“This is for your own good.”
*-*-*-*
Devil Hills, Idaho
He didn’t have anything to feel sorry for, Ethan told himself only to end up grinding his teeth when he heard the soft sniffle coming from the backseat where the small woman was curled up in the fetal position.
She was faking.
Definitely fucking faking, Ethan told himself when the next sniffle had him tightening his grip on the steering wheel and left him feeling like the biggest asshole alive. She was good, really fucking good, he told himself, shaking his head in disgust even as he repeated the words that he’d been telling himself all day while he’d laid in bed pretending that he couldn’t hear her cry.
There had been a time when the idea of hurting anyone made him sick to his stomach, but that had been before they’d taken his son and left him with nothing left to lose. Since that day, he’d done everything within his power to make them pay. He’d tortured and killed hundreds of shifters, demons, and humans and never once felt anything when he did it.
Until today.
Today he felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He’d meant to do more than scare her, but as he’d looked into her innocent baby blue eyes, he’d-
Bang!
“Shit! Hang on!” Ethan bit out, ignoring the searing pain shooting down his left side as he struggled to keep the car from going off the road only to grunt in pain when the next hit came, causing the car to swerve off the road and slam into a large oak tree. The air rushed out of his lungs as he was slammed back in his seat as the sounds of metal twisting and glass breaking cut off his roar of agony as the door caved in on his leg just as the dashboard came down, pinning it in place as every bone in his leg shattered upon impact.
Searing pain tore through his leg as Ethan sat there, struggling not to blackout as he tried to raise his hands only to release that his left arm was broken as well. Grinding his teeth, he dropped his useless arm back down as he reached up with a trembling hand and grabbed hold of the steering wheel. Ignoring the pain in his ribs, Ethan took a deep breath and tore the steering wheel off and tossed it aside. Ignoring the agonizing pain tearing through his body, Ethan pressed his hand against the dashboard and pushed, crushing the material beneath his hand until his legs were free and-
“I-it’s c-coming b-back,” the terrified whisper from the backseat had him looking up just in time to see the large black werewolf that had pushed them off the road grab hold of his door and-
“Run!” Ethan yelled, as his door was torn free and he was forced to bite back another roar of agony as the asshole dug his teeth into his leg and pulled him out of the car.
Before his body hit the ground, the large werewolf he never should have let live shifted back to his human form. “Look who we have here,” Jacob said, grinning hugely as he reached over and tore the passenger door off, tossing it aside before he reached inside and grabbed hold of Indie, who hadn’t fucking listened to him when he’d told her to run, and dragged her out of the car.
“What were you thinking, Ethan?” Jacob asked with a rueful shake of his head as he dropped Indie on the ground next to him.
When she gasped in pain, Ethan’s eyes shifted silver as his fangs tore through his gums with a growl of warning that had the large bastard grinning hugely.
“Looks like today really is my lucky day,” Jacob said with a satisfied sigh, as he walked around the car and tore the trunk door off, sending it flying through the woods as Ethan laid there, willing his body to fucking heal faster so that he could get her out of there before it was too late.
“You know, I almost didn’t take this bounty,” Jacob said as he began searching through the bags until he found a pair of jeans and pulled them on. “But now, I’m really glad that I came.”
“Let her go, Jacob. She’s human,” Ethan lied, hoping to convince the large asshole to let her go as he struggled to sit up only to have his arm give out on him and drop him back down on the ground.
“Oh, I know what she is,” Jacob said with a shit-eating grin as he walked back over and joined them.
“P-please don’t send me back,” Indie said as she pulled her knees against her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
“I might reconsider it if you can outbid the bitch looking for you,” Jacob drawled as he leaned back against the car and folded his arms over his chest.
“I-I don’t have any money,” she mumbled weakly.
“That’s too bad,” Jacob said with a sad shake of his head.
“You owe me, asshole!” Ethan bit out.
“And now we’re even,” Jacob said, shrugging it off as he reached down and plucked Indie off the ground so that he could throw her over his shoulder.
“Don’t fucking do this, Jacob!” Ethan snapped, telling himself that he needed her to make the bitch pay, but as he watched the large shifter wrap his arm around her legs to stop her from falling, something deep inside him rebelled at watching another man touching what was-
“I’m sorry,” came the softly spoken words before the large shifter dropped to his knees with a pained grunt as Ethan realized just how badly he’d fucked up.
Chapter 17
Westdrom, Maine
“Wife?” Trace said, frowning down at his wife, who hadn’t opened her eyes since she’d laid down this morning.
For a moment, he considered waking her up so that he could feed from her but decided against it when he noted just how pale she was. He’d let her rest, Trace thought absently as he listened to what he thought was the sounds of an engine coming closer.
Curious, Trace left the room and headed downstairs as he strained his ears, listening for the telltale sign of a heartbeat only to frown when he didn’t hear one. He could detect the sound of breathing over loud rhythmic noise and what he’d thought was singing as he headed downstairs. He paused by the door and closed his eyes, scenting the air while he listened as his guest drew closer to make sure that he was alone.
When he didn’t detect anyone else, Trace opened the door and-
“You should be all set until next week, but if you need more just call the number on the bottom,” the man with a shaved head and a silver ring on his bottom lip said, sounding bored as he shoved a hard red box with a white cover in Trace’s arms before walking away.
For a moment, Trace stood there, watching him, listening to the odd swish of blood move through his veins and realized that he must be a vampire. He scented the air again only to find himself staring down at the box in his arms. Curious, he stepped back inside, closing the door behind him and listened as the vampire left until he couldn’t hear the low rumbling sounds of an engine
anymore.
Once he was sure that the vampire was gone, Trace went in search of a table. He found one in the back of the house in the room that looked similar to the one that had been in his wife’s house, only this one was more appealing to the eye. Everything here looked cleaner and in better condition, he absently thought as he placed the box on the table and raised the lid to find himself staring down at clear bags of what looked like blood.
Things really were different, Trace thought as he picked up one of the bags, noting that it was cold to the touch as he thought of all the late-night trips that his father had been forced to make when he’d needed blood. He’d be gone most of the night, searching for someone suitable to feed from only to be forced to bury the body once he’d drained them to buy them a little more time before they had to move on. He did that every night until the humans started taking notice of all the unexplained disappearances and they were forced to move on.
His father could have fed from the whores they used to cover their scents for a few coins, but he’d refused to take the risk. Besides the fact that a whore’s loyalty could be bought, his father refused to take the risk. The one time that his father had taken the risk to save his life, he’d spent the next year worrying over Trace, terrified that the whore’s blood had been tainted with something that could kill him.
From that point on, his father had taken his time selecting his victims, ensuring that their blood was not only clean but that they also deserved to die. He went after men who liked to beat their wives and children, thieves, rapists, murderers, and men who crossed the line when it came to children.
This would have made their lives so much easier, Trace thought as he turned the bag over in his hands. Wondering how he was supposed to get to the blood inside, he ran his fingers over the smooth surface as he glanced around the room for something to drink it from. When his eyes landed on the large metallic closet making the low humming noise, Trace placed the bag of blood back in the box and decided to see what was inside.
Curious, he ran his fingers over the door, noting that it was smooth and cool to the touch as his gaze focused on the long handle attached to what appeared to be a door. Wondering what his father used it for, Trace carefully opened the door and found himself staring at neatly piled bags of blood lining glass shelves. Frowning, he placed his hand on one of the shelves and noted that it was colder than the box on the table.
Realizing that he needed to keep the blood cold, Trace grabbed the box off the table and added the bagged blood to the shelves. Once he was done, he pushed the box aside and grabbed a bag of blood for himself before he renewed his search for a bowl or a mug, something that he could pour the blood into. When he found a black mug on his second try, he realized that he still had a problem.
Opening the bag without making a mess.
For a moment, Trace considered tearing the bag open only to decide that it would be easier to use his fangs. Decision made, he raised the bag to his mouth as his fangs slid down. He carefully punctured the bag and-
Gagged when the cold, bitter taste of copper coated his tongue.
Knowing that he didn’t have a choice, Trace forced himself to swallow the metallic liquid. Deciding to distract himself, he grabbed another bag of blood from the cold closet and walked back the way he came, checking every room along the way, noting the glass pictures on the walls, the rugs on the floor, the furniture and felt lost as he took in all the things that he didn’t recognize.
He finished off the first bag and replaced it with a second bag as he headed back upstairs, trying not to think of everything he’d lost as he walked into the room across from his father’s and felt himself relax for the first time since he’d left his tomb. There were bookshelves lining every wall, overfilled with books, and in the middle of the room was a large bed with the one thing that he’d wished he’d had with him in his tomb, placed on a pillow.
His book.
He’d had it tucked inside his shirt when he’d made his way through the woods only to realize that it was missing when he woke up in his tomb. He’d always assumed the book had fallen in the river when they’d tried to drown him. He’d mourned the loss of the book, wished that he’d had it with him in his tomb so that he could lose himself in the story.
He’d imagined how it ended in a thousand different ways, Trace thought with a sad smile as he picked up the aged leather book and took in its scent. He used to love the scent of books, the feel of the soft leather against his skin, and the comforting weight in his hands at night. Absently caressing his thumb across the worn leather book in his hands, he finished off the second bag of blood and discarded the empty sacs on the chest so that he could inspect the library that his father had amassed over the years.
There were books on science, history, adventure, languages, and on a hundred things that he didn’t understand. When he came across a large tome entitled, “How Things Work,” he placed the old book on the shelf and-
Frowned when he heard his wife talking to someone.
*-*-*-*
“I told you to run,” came the weakly mumbled groan as Ethan, and she now knew his name thanks to her other hostage, was dropped on the bed near the door. Ignoring him, Indie focused her attention on her other hostage, the seriously pissed off shifter who wasn’t looking so good.
“Take. It. Out,” Jacob, her second hostage, bit out through clenched teeth as she took in his pale skin, his messy short black hair matted with sweat, the way his hands trembled and felt a momentary stab of guilt only to remember that he’d planned on bringing her back to that house.
“Get on the bed,” Indie said, gesturing with the silver-tipped dagger that she’d taken from Ethan’s bag towards the spot next to her first hostage.
With a silver-eyed glare in her direction, he reluctantly walked over to the other side of the bed and sat down with a wince when the move caused the silver needle that she’d carried on her since she was six years old to dig in deeper. She waited for a moment to make sure that he wasn’t going to try anything stupid before she placed the small dagger on the nightstand. Keeping her eyes locked on the large Alpha, she reached into her back pocket and grabbed the rolls of gauze that she’d helped herself to and made quick work of wrapping one of the rolls around his right wrist.
When she was done, Indie walked around the bed and did the same for her other hostage, wrapping his left wrist in gauze, and when she was done, she reached into her pocket and-
“What the hell are you doing?” Jacob demanded as she fastened the titanium handcuffs dipped in silver that she’d been forced to sleep in yesterday around his wrist before she quickly attached it to Ethan’s wrist as he watched her every move.
“Get this off me!” Jacob demanded, moving to raise his arm in demand only to rethink it and leave it where it was.
“No,” Indie said as she debated on whether or not she should keep her word, but in the end decided that it would be a good idea to keep her promise as a gesture of good faith. Besides, she could always stick him again, Indie decided as she made her way back around the bed, careful of the large man that looked really angry, not that she could blame him, and reached behind him and-
Oh, no…
There was a drop of blood.
Closing her eyes, she took a shaky breath and told herself that the warm liquid currently coating her fingers was just water, she carefully pulled the pin out and-
Gagged.
-took a step back as she opened her eyes only to rethink that decision when she saw red and decided that this was the perfect time to check out the bathroom
Decision made, Indie quickly made her way into the bathroom, careful to avoid looking down out of fear that she would see that thing that she was pretending wasn’t coating her fingers right now and quickly scrubbed her hands.
“Do you have any fucking idea what will happen if I try to shift with this on?” Jacob demanded from the other room where he was no doubt doing his best to avoid his skin coming into contact with the cuff wrap
ped around his wrist.
“Your hand will be sliced off and it will never grow back,” Indie said, trying to sound casual as she did her best to block out the memories of the blood-curdling screams that had been used to terrify her into behaving even as the memory of all that blood had her head spinning faster.
Needing a moment, she slapped her trembling hands on the counter and took a shaky breath and-
She did it.
She actually did it, Indie realized unable to help but smile as she thought of everything she’d accomplished today. She’d managed to turn the tables on her captor, with a tiny bit of help from the shifter, who she’d also taken hostage, used the shifter’s phone to rent a hotel room for the night with the help of a YouTube video, and checked them in without anyone seeing them. And now…
Now, she was going to savor the moment.
Chapter 18
Westdrom, Maine
“Go away,” Samantha mumbled weakly into her pillow as the horrible dog that seemed to take great joy in making her life a living hell continued pushing her towards the edge of the bed.
Determined to ignore him, she rolled over onto her stomach, snuggled closer to her pillow and-
Found herself shoved off the bed.
She really hated that dog, Samantha thought as she grabbed hold of the bed and moved to pull herself up only to tighten her hold on the comforter when she saw Trace watching her through bright red eyes. Releasing a shaky breath, she licked her lips nervously, absently noting that her head still hurt as she moved to put a little space between them only to decide that she was good where she was when he growled.
Clearing her throat, because she honestly had no idea what she was supposed to do, she pulled her legs closer as she took in the large man sitting in the corner watching her. He looked exhausted, Samantha thought, shifting to get more comfortable only to pause mid-shift when his eyes narrowed on her. Deciding that it would be in her best interest to wait for him to stop glaring, she resigned herself to sitting there only to realize that she really needed to use the bathroom.
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