by Laura Kaye
With the flow of blood at his mouth, she prayed and worked the stream into the small part between his lips. A trickle of red seeped from the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t swallow.
“Kenric! Damn you. Drink, you hardheaded vampire!” She choked back a sob. Wrapping what he’d taught her about compulsion into her voice, she threw her words at him. “I swear, I’m going to kick your ass if you don’t swallow and come back to me.”
His eyelids flew open. Wild, dilated pupils searched her face with a glassy stare. He gulped, then released a strangled cough from the overflow in his mouth. His chest rose on a long, deep breath. The warm feel of it at her wrist melted her. If she’d been standing, she knew her legs would have failed her.
Fangs pierced the flesh at her wrist. She cried out from the sharp dig of his teeth. Ravenous hunger drove him to sink deeper. With her free hand, she wiped at the fine layer of sweat popping at her brow.
The hairs on her arms and her nape stood on end. A hot, tingling sensation leaked through her pores as a portion of her, merged with Kenric’s returning soul, left her body. She would have thought to feel empty, but the remaining essence of her mate left her complete.
Her heart skipped in her chest as his eyelashes lifted. The summer blue of his eyes cleared. Her warrior had returned.
His fevered pace at her vein slowed, replaced by the warmth of his tongue. He applied pressure at the wound they had both formed before pulling away. The growing light in his expression told her that he felt a new acute awareness of her.
She dropped onto the bed beside him and grabbed her gloves to release the restraints she’d almost forgotten were in place.
As soon as his arms slid free, he pushed into a sitting position. With trembling fingers, she climbed the planes of his abdomen and chest. She’d never fully realized the extraordinary power that lay restrained within the vampire she now called her mate. Her mind hummed with it.
His hand met hers, his fingers brushing her skin, before he brought it to his lips. The link they shared flooded her senses.
“You feel incredible in here.” He tapped the place above his heart with their joined hands. “I honestly don’t know how I’ve walked this world without you for so long.”
She squeezed his hand, her mind spinning, overwhelmed with the depth of his emotions. “My love, you’ll never again journey alone.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Arran shifted in his seat for the third time, trying his best to appear disinterested in the chestnut-haired beauty helping Michael clean the kitchen. He should find something else to focus on before someone noticed, but the sway of her hips and the curve of her back captivated his imagination. All the things he envisioned doing against those rounded curves tortured him. The endless places he wanted to bend her sweet ass over, or spread her naked on, or…
Shit. He needed to get a grip.
None of those fantasies would ever make it out of his head. Gabrielle was too precious. Too innocent. If she knew him, really knew him, the look in her eyes would turn to hate, instead of the adoration she touched him with now that made his heart turn inside out.
Arran pushed to his feet, sliding the chair back with a scrape along the hardwood floor. Across the table, Logan shot him an irritated glare. The heat of Gabrielle’s gaze tracked him out of the room. No one dared to ask about his abrupt departure. Excellent. The aura he wore did its trick.
Halfway up the stairs, his cell vibrated. He slid it from his jeans pocket and glanced at the blue-lit display. Markus. About damn time. “Nice of you to check in, bastard,” Arran said with a blast of sarcasm.
“Kiss my ass.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Arran flung his bedroom door closed and plopped down on the edge of his bed.
“I had to go. It was…personal. Something I couldn’t put off any longer.”
“So damn urgent, it had you walking out on the Enclave during a crisis? Kenric’s going to have your head.”
“Yeah, he probably will.” Markus grew silent on the line for a few seconds before asking, “Who’s all around tonight?”
“Guerin and Logan just came in from patrol. We’re all here.”
“So Guerin still has you on security detail for Kenric and his woman? I take it she survived.”
“Kenric gave Guerin an update earlier tonight. Looks like Emily’s going to make it. What’s up with you and the twenty questions, man? Why don’t you come in and see for yourself?” Markus didn’t sound right. Arran didn’t know what the hell was going on, but his partner hadn’t been the same since his freak accident.
“Yeah, I’ll be there soon. I have some loose ends to tie up first.”
“Markus…” The line went dead.
…
The sliding door to the Enclave central command hissed open before Arran could enter the password. Guerin exited, still dressed in patrol gear. A couple of hours remained before sunup, but he and Logan had called it for the night because of Markus’s stunt. With Kenric occupied with Emily’s transition, Guerin wanted a team on base at all times.
“Hey, man. I was looking for you,” Arran said as the steel door slid shut behind Guerin. “Markus contacted me, said he’d be in soon.”
Guerin brushed past him with an aggravated huff. “I want some food. So, if you see him before we do…” He pulled up short, long enough to glance over his shoulder, his dark eyes edged with frustration. “Tell him to find me the moment his ass crosses this threshold.”
“I’ll let him know.”
With a grunt, Guerin resumed his trek for the kitchen, and Arran trailed him up the staircase. As their boots struck the first floor, a perimeter-breach alarm blared throughout the compound. Gabrielle and Logan bolted from the kitchen door a few feet down the hall, heading for the security office. Shock resonated throughout the compound, a palpable wave off each warrior. For years, the Enclave’s residence had remained a secured location, miles away from any DEAD activity. Though they were prepared for any assault, a direct attack on their headquarters blindsided them.
The locker for weapons on the main floor stood outside security. Arran slammed to a halt beside it, while Guerin headed straight to security to join Gabrielle and Logan. Arran entered the password and yanked the door open as a distinct shadow fell across his arm. Without looking back, he tossed several blades to Kenric and loaded himself down with as many as he could carry. When the last weapon passed to his leader, Arran banged the door shut and spun. Kenric appeared to have dressed in a hurry, since the only thing covering him were faded blue jeans and a row of bite marks on his neck. Damn. He jerked his gaze way. No time for jealousy over those telling marks. Arran bit down, clenching his jaw hard onto his resolve, and fell in behind Kenric.
“Report.” Kenric targeted Guerin inside security.
Guerin glanced over his shoulder. “We’ve got six intruders at various locations around the perimeter about two hundred fifty yards out.”
“They’re low-level heat signatures. Vampires,” Gabrielle said, her focus riveted to the computer monitor.
“I agree,” Guerin replied from his position opposite Kenric’s at Gabrielle’s shoulder. “Dammit and motherfucker!” Guerin’s fist collided with the oak desk. “More just appeared less than twenty-five feet from the compound walls. I count five. They’re moving in phase leaps across the grounds, never in the same location for more than a few seconds.”
Gabrielle jumped to her feet, grabbing earpieces for each warrior. For a brief moment, her gaze held Arran’s as she placed one of the wireless devices into his hand. “I’ll keep you updated as their locations change.” Her voice carried to everyone, but when her hand slid from his, the look in her eyes sent a clear message for him alone. Be careful. He coiled his fist around the piece and tightened the hold on his heart. She needed to stop wasting her prayers and wishes on him.
He’d been dead long before she had even been born.
Arran wrapped the receiver around his ear and headed down the hall with
his team. “Where’s Emily?” The question came in loud and clear over the device.
“Armed and secured in my quarters.” Kenric’s voice. “Where I told her to stay put.”
“You really expect her to follow your orders?” The underlying humor in Guerin’s tone was hard to miss. No verbal response came, but up ahead, Arran caught the kiss-my-ass glare Kenric threw Guerin.
They reached the end of the corridor as the sound of breaking glass echoed through the house. Michael rounded the corner and pointed to the blade Arran carried. “You got an extra one of those?”
Arran pulled the spare from the small of his back and handed it over, hilt first. “Keep close.”
“You can count on it.” Michael gripped the hilt and rotated it until the blade lay flush against his wrist.
“We’ve got six in the house now,” Gabrielle’s soft voice whispered in Arran’s ear. “One heading upstairs. Two at the entrance to operations. The others are heading straight for you.”
Kenric pivoted. His gaze tapped Arran, then Logan. “You two take the bastards down here. Guerin and I have the others.” No sooner had he given the orders when the commander and his second phased.
The house went dark, and a cry filled the dark void. One down. The emergency lights clicked, flooding the house in a soft yellow glow layered with shadows. Vampires attacking vampires, and the intruders took the time to kill the lights. A waste of fucking time. Except for two humans, everyone in the battle possessed superior night vision. Apparently the DEADs had a flair for drama. The Enclave had a flair for killing the stupid fucks, and no loss of light would lessen their advantage.
Adrenaline flooded Arran’s system, contracting his heart into a rapid battering of the walls inside his chest. For some, the hormone made them less effective, nervous, and edgy. For Arran, he soaked it up like a junkie, becoming more alive, alert, and ready for anything.
Logan panned right, and Arran took the left, spreading out across the main level. A slight breeze followed by the stench of decay invaded Arran’s nostrils seconds before a DEAD materialized in his path. The bloodsucker lunged with his blade drawn.
Arran tucked and rolled, dodging the initial attack. He regained his feet, whirled, and slashed the rear of the DEAD’s neck. Blood flashed from the wound, and the vampire’s head lolled forward, severed from his spine.
A curse rung out from Logan’s mouth, and Arran glanced across the open expanse of the living area. A DEAD intruder battled the warrior. A long slice to Logan’s arm smoked like a pan of damn fried bacon. How the hell did these DEADs get their hands on silver-plated daggers?
Marguerite.
She must have armed them with the Enclave’s own weapon of choice.
The bigger fucking question of the night was, what traitorous asshole ratted out their location? His feet rooted to the floor. The earlier phone conversation with Markus replayed in his mind. No. He shook his head at the nagging suspicion making him ill. Markus wouldn’t…?
“Three more. I detect three more intruders on the first floor.” Gabrielle’s alarmed voice filled his ear.
…
Markus watched from his vantage point five hundred yards outside the compounds’ sensors. Like clockwork, the lights had gone out, sending the house onto emergency power. Why the hell not? Make them all scurry like rats. Kenric had to be out of his fucking mind right about now. Never would he believe one of his own had betrayed his perfect order. It had been so easy, just like Marguerite had predicted.
He chuckled, riding high on his mistress’s blood. His body ached, not yet completely healed from the punishment of her whip, claws, and fangs.
When his mission was over, he would savor his reward. He stroked the hard length of his cock in anticipation. Marguerite would make all the pain and deception worth it. Relinquishing the Enclave’s fucked-up hold on his mind had been difficult, at first. They’d been the only taste of honor he’d ever known. Then Marguerite had opened his eyes to what truly lay in the darkness, and it was more than he had ever imagined. She was powerful and beautifully exotic. And she was delicious.
The dimly lit sitting room came into focus as Markus phased to the third floor of headquarters. With the house under full attack, he knew Kenric would leave Emily in the one place he believed to be most secure: his private wing. Only Enclave warriors would have visual knowledge of Kenric’s living quarters, thus the ability to phase into the location. Surely, his fuck-toy was safe, locked away inside the master’s den. What foolish arrogance on his former commander’s part.
No one was ever truly safe.
Dressed in a man’s white T-shirt and oversize sweats, the woman paced the floor, working the hilt of a blade inside her fist. A muttering of various curses rolled from her lips. Left behind and fucking pissed, she didn’t sense his presence behind her.
Markus glided forward, sticking to the shadows, his body a transparent veil of a human form. He palmed the dart gun loaded with Ketamine buried inside his pocket. Two feet from him, she came to an abrupt stop. Her head dropped into her hands with an exasperated sigh.
Perfect.
Aiming straight for her exposed neck, Markus fired.
Bull’s-eye.
She whirled, yanking the dart out of her neck. Her wide eyes scanned the object and the surrounding room, but she would find nothing but dark corners. Within seconds, her knees buckled, and her unconscious body wilted.
Breaking free of the shadows, Markus kneeled and scooped Emily from the floor. The sensors would detect the extra presence in her quarters, but he’d be long gone. And Kenric, too late. He grinned and phased them both on a trip to his mistress’s arms.
…
Something was wrong. A sudden emptiness—a void—welled inside Kenric’s chest. He reached for his mate with his mind, but there was nothing on the other end, only stillness. Across their connection, he called to her, but she didn’t answer.
“Emily!” he cried out and bounded up the stairs. Why wouldn’t she answer?
Like a madman, he burst through the security door to his residence. Empty. His soul couldn’t find the essence that matched his. He didn’t need to search, though he did, tearing through every room. Agony constricted his heart to the point that the blood in his veins felt like sludge, too thick and heavy to circulate.
Please, God, don’t take her from me. Not when only a few hours ago, because of her, he’d learned to breathe again. And that air smelled like wildflowers.
From the floor near the baseboard, a glint of light bouncing off metal caught his eye. He dropped to one knee. He found her blade, and something else lying beside it.
Boots pounded the stairs outside his room. Kenric straightened as his warriors filled the room, his gaze transfixed on the black and silver dart between his fingertips. His fangs ached to rip into the throat of the one who had dared touch his mate.
The room shook from his rage. Lifting his gaze to his team, he pronounced, “Marguerite dies tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“When do you think she’ll come around?”
“I don’t know. Mistress said to let her know when she shows any signs of waking,” a thickly accented voice answered. “That new slave didn’t go under like this. No matter if she’s fucking a master, she’s still female—still weak. The same dose that just dazed him kicked her little vampire ass.”
Emily cracked an eyelid to get a look at the assholes discussing her. She didn’t risk further movement. The blurry image of bars crashed into her brain and sent her pulse racing.
A cell.
They’d locked her in a cell. She bit her cheek to keep from screaming. The metallic taste of blood leaked across her tongue.
Every muscle knotted in rebellion as she fought the surge of her fight-or-flight reflex kicking into high gear. The ache in her bones and the grit in her mouth confirmed they’d left her lying on a dirt floor. The dank, earthen smell filled her nose with each rapid breath she failed to control.
“Well, look who�
��s waking up and come to join in on our fun? Open those eyes, Red. I know you’re hearing every word.”
Shit, they must have noticed the changes in her heart rate and respiration. She dragged her eyelids open. No use pretending anymore. Two young men leaned against the bars. To her surprise, they were quite handsome and wore finely tailored white silk shirts and black slacks. Both grinned through the iron bars as if she were the prize catch of the day. Okay, so not a good analogy. She might very well be dinner.
After a few ungraceful attempts to stand on her legs, she finally made her way over to the bars.
“Inform Mistress Marguerite that her…guest is awake,” the man with what sounded like a Spanish accent and long chocolate brown hair instructed the blond to his left. Without hesitation, the blond raced away.
“Sleep well?” The Spaniard swung his dark gaze back to her, jamming his hand through the bars and into her hair.
Emily hissed and jerked back, stumbling into the damp wall. “Keep your filthy hands to yourself,” she spat.
“Admirable.” His lips curled into a smile, displaying two long fangs. “But that feisty attitude will do you no good here. You belong to our mistress now. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of the show while she puts an end to another one of her precious Kenric’s whores.”
“Enrique, I suggest you watch your tongue if you wish to keep it. I’ll decide if I want an audience.” A serpent-like hiss of a feminine voice filled the dirt and stone space. “I would hate for you to lose a body part with which you are so talented.”
Every hair on Emily’s body stood on end. An exotic beauty, wearing sheer green silk held together by black netting down its center, glided into view. The gauzy fabric and strategically placed fishnet did little to cover her breasts or hide the top of a nether region Emily had no desire to see. Enrique tucked in his chin and inched away from the bars.
Guided by self-preservation, Emily backed into the corner of the small cell. The raven-haired woman with jade green eyes radiated pure evil. “Marguerite Devonshire, I presume?” At least she could be proud that she sounded steadier than she felt.