by Jess Haines
There was blood running down Mouse’s face as Max held his wrist up to her mouth, the other hand forcing her jaw open. There were pink-stained tears streaking from her eyes, staining her pale cheeks, and I didn’t think it was from the pain of being impaled by the sword. She was trying hard to pull his bleeding wrist away from her mouth, but not succeeding. She didn’t need to breathe like a human, wouldn’t choke from what he was doing, but some habits die hard. Once she swallowed reflexively, a grim, satisfied smile curved Max’s lips.
“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he mocked, taking a low, singsong tone as he stood up. He yanked the sword out of her in the same, fluid motion.
Once free, Mouse twisted on her side, one hand pressed to the wound on her stomach while the other kept her balanced as she spat out his blood. Her expression was pained, as if she’d swallowed something foul. Maybe she had.
Everyone in the door, including me, skittered out of Max’s way when he approached. He didn’t pay any mind as he brushed past us, heading for the next room down the hall. Everyone else followed him to either play audience or play backup.
If she was the oldest vampire here–the only one, per John, who could potentially give Max trouble–I doubted he needed his minions for anything other than moral support. I stood awkwardly in the door, watching Mouse gather herself. She was taking deep, shuddering breaths as the wound on her stomach visibly closed, torn flesh knitting together seamlessly. The only remaining signs of her injury were the bloodstains and holes torn in her clothes. Judging by her expression, though, something was still hurting.
I was scared of vampires, but it didn’t feel right to watch her suffer. I knelt down, holding out my hand.
“Do you need help to get up?”
She opened dark brown eyes, surprised and wary. Though she hesitated, she soon slid her tiny hand into mine and I helped her to her feet. The strength in her grip was enormous. Despite the care she took to be gentle, my fingers felt slightly numb once she let go.
She staggered once she was on her feet, chest heaving with unnecessary breaths. God, she was tiny. The top of her head barely came up to my shoulder. It must have hurt, but she straightened her back and squared her shoulders. She used a bloodstained hand to push her hair out of her face, tension gradually easing out of her as she looked me over.
“Your name is Mouse?” I asked. At her nod, I held out my hand in introduction. “I’m Shiarra. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you before. Will you be okay?”
She smiled and took my hand, shaking it. Then she proceeded to go into a rapid bout of sign language, her hands fluttering like graceful birds.
“Sorry, I don’t understand.”
Judging by her expression, she wasn’t surprised, just disappointed. Looking around, she found a pad and pen on one of the tables that hadn’t been knocked aside. She proceeded to scratch out a quick note, which she tore off and handed to me. Her penmanship was an impeccably neat script. What was it with vampires and neat handwriting?
Don’t feel bad. It doesn’t take me long to heal. I think. Alec is probably the only one who could stop him effectively. Are you one of Max’s servants?
I shook my head–then stopped with a frown, spreading my hands in a helpless, frustrated gesture. “He bound me to him. I don’t want to serve him, but I don’t have a choice.”
She gave me a sympathetic look and went back to her feverishly fast writing.
There’s always a choice.
If you help Alec to stop him and we all survive, I will help you break the binding between you and Max.
I read it over. Again.
Maybe there was some hope for me after all.
Chapter 29
I was not pleased when Peter turned up; apparently Max had sent him to fetch me. He stood in the doorway staring suspiciously at Mouse, radiating nervous fear.
She looked back at him with a cool, dispassionate gaze, not giving away anything. Somehow she managed to stay regal and composed despite her skirt and simple blouse, torn and stained crimson with blood. I crumpled the notes she’d handed me and stepped back so I was at her side, putting the paper in my jacket pockets as inconspicuously as possible.
“Max wants you both. Come on,” he demanded, gesturing for us to follow him.
Mouse and I exchanged a look before falling into step behind Peter. Out in the hallway and on the stairs, more of Royce’s people were being herded along. One or two were thrown over the shoulders of Max’s cronies, others stumbling along like they were drugged or hurt. A couple of vampires being shoved forward by the intruders had blood staining their lips and the same shocked, glassy stare as Mouse. People clutched fresh bite marks on their throats or arms, cringing away from the leers of those who’d fed on them. Many of the humans were crying.
One guy slipped out of the grip of the vamp holding his arm and made a dash for the front door. I winced in sympathy as the escapee was casually backhanded by Peter. The man collapsed to the ground, not moving. One of the vamps hefted him up on his shoulder and carried him along with the others.
We joined the procession leading up to the third floor. The door at the top of the stairs was open. Max and most of the others were hanging around what must have been Royce’s living space.
The entire upper floor was almost entirely taken up by one huge, open room. Terraced windows with shutters inside as well as out lined the walls, though the inside shutters looked more secure at keeping out sunlight. Tiny spotlights focused on pieces of large marble and bronze statuary set on pedestals between each of the windows. It was practically bare of furniture, only a couple of chaiselike lounge chairs and padded benches scattered here and there. Thick carpets and plush pillows in a few strategic places were somehow made more intimate by the rest of the place being so open and exposed.
At the far end were two doors. One was off to the side; I spotted some computers and a phone with the message light blinking. The other door was closed, and I guessed it was the entrance to Royce’s bedroom.
Max looked paler than usual when I spotted him lounging on a chaise. The other vampires in the room were positively rosy-cheeked in comparison. His chin and white shirt were spotted with blood. I figured very little of it was his.
Royce’s people were being shoved to the back of the room, save for a handful. There was a human woman I didn’t know huddled shivering on the floor not very far from Max. She had her fingers pressed to her throat and her features obscured by the blond hair that fell about her shoulders. Had they taken her from the club?
One of the other vampires disabused me of that idea, hauling her up to her feet and pulling her out of the way. She was in nothing but panties and an oversized silk shirt that could pass for a nightie. For some reason, that pissed me off more than anything. For her to be here, dressed like that–not that it should matter to me. Royce’s love life was none of my business. Honestly.
Without meaning to, I met Max’s eyes when he held out his hand. I followed the unspoken command without hesitation, basking in the warmth of his gaze. He pulled me down to the cushions with him, bringing my wrist up close to his mouth and inhaling deeply. His gaze stayed focused on mine, making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the feel of his fingers on my skin and the depths of those gray pools, sucking me in. I reached out to touch his cheek as that velvet smooth voice rolled over my senses, reveling in it.
He drew me closer, pulling me into his lap. I didn’t resist, though my heart rate revved up as the memory of having been bitten teased along the edge of my consciousness, helped along by being much closer than was healthy to a hungry vampire. Even caught in his eyes, I couldn’t banish the remembered terror of it.
“You’re afraid,” he said, puzzled and curious. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” I wasn’t sure why I lied about not knowing. It made me even more nervous when he bought my answer.
“Why did you help Mouse?”
That question threw me through a loop or two for a second. I knew I had a
deer-in-the-headlights stare, but the muted anger underlying the question frightened me more than the not-so-subtle threat of being bitten again.
“She–I don’t like–” I started to twist around to look at her, but his hand came up to turn my face back so I was forced to look at him again. Those sly, gray eyes demanded answers. I couldn’t hem and haw around it anymore. “She was hurt. I had to help her.”
He stared at me for a moment longer, the anger fading into something bordering on melancholy. “Your tenderheartedness is endearing. She could’ve killed you. Easily.”
Mouse made a low hissing sound, distracting me. He didn’t keep me from looking this time. She was pissed, her hands curled into claws as she took up pacing a few yards away. The rest of Royce’s people, even the vampires, had drawn back from her. A couple of Max’s vampires sidled closer, showing their fangs in warning. I was afraid of what might happen if she started a brawl. She was one scary fighter.
Max stared her down until she subsided, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides after she looked away. He then picked me up and deposited me on the couch beside him. I struggled to sit up straight as he rose and approached Mouse.
He stalked around her, predatory, circling her like a shark. I watched with wide eyes as she stood frozen in place with her lip lifted in a silent snarl. Only her eyes followed his movements. As he came up behind her, he settled his hands on her shoulders. He stared at me as he pulled her back against his chest, stooping down to rest his chin on top of her head. What I didn’t get is why she didn’t fight back.
“Mouse is bound to me now, maybe not in the same way you are, but well enough. Isn’t that right, lovely?”
Her only answer was the flicker of hot red embers in her eyes.
“That injury must’ve taken quite a bit of blood to heal.” I could see his fingers tightening on her shoulders, digging in deep. She didn’t move, her expression curiously blank save for those hellishly burning eyes. “Are you hungry, my little Mouse?”
A fine trembling threaded through her. It might have been my imagination, but Max’s smile made me think–fear–it wasn’t.
“She’s just your type, isn’t she? The pale skin, the red hair. You always had a taste for the Irish.”
Oh, fuck me sideways.
She closed her eyes, and he yanked on her hair until she made a faint hiss of sound, air forcefully expelled between her teeth. Her hands came up to clutch at his arms as he pulled her off balance, holding her so her spine bowed and she was forced up on tiptoe. His eyes stayed on me while he spoke, ringing out for everyone to hear.
“That’s just too bad. If you lay a hand on her without my say-so beforehand, I will gut you and leave you for the sun and the crows. Do you understand me?”
There was no way for her to answer him. The others in the room nodded quickly, too quickly, looking away as he threw Mouse down to the floor at his feet. He kicked her aside when she got up on hands and knees, sending her sliding across the floor. She slammed into one of those heavy pedestals, knocking down a marble statue of a woman in flowing robes, which broke in half when it crashed to the floor. I found myself pressed back into the cushions of the chaise as Max approached, remembering at the last second to focus on his lips instead of his eyes.
“There, now. Nothing to worry about, you see?”
I wasn’t sure if he expected an answer, but I found myself nodding like the others had–anything to keep him from touching me in anger. Even with the augmented strength and stamina of the belt, I doubted I’d survive if he turned the full force of that anger on me. At my silent nod, he continued across the room, and for a brief moment I had the clarity to think, This is it–I’m going to die.
He reached out for the blond girl held by one of his flunkies and yanked her to his side. She made a faint, terrified sound as he hauled her up against his chest and jerked her head back by the hair.
For a second–just a second–I was glad it wasn’t me.
I quickly found myself ashamed for being grateful he was visiting his punishments on someone else. Yet I didn’t have it in me to do anything to help her. She whimpered, but didn’t fight, didn’t do anything but cry as he savagely tore into her throat.
No one moved while he killed the woman, sucking the life out of her.
After what felt like an eternity of agonized indecision and guilt, any chance to help her was lost. Max pulled away from his meal and simply dropped her. She landed with a graceless thump, eyes closed and skin waxen against that royal blue shirt. Max now had a rosy blush of health to his cheeks. I couldn’t keep myself from staring blankly at the vicious wound he’d torn to get to her jugular, just like the marks on the dead girl from the dance floor at Twisted Temptations. Her heart had stopped, only a few meager trickles of blood working their way to drip, drip, drip to the floor.
Max was all business, snapping his fingers, then pointing to a couple of his men. “Clean that up.”
The guys he’d pointed to jumped to the work, gathering the limp body and carrying her out of sight down the stairs. I felt sick as I stared at the tiny crimson puddle on the floor, the only sign that someone had just died in this room.
I should have done something. I should have moved, should have fought, should have pulled him off her, but I was paralyzed by something more than fear. The savagery in his actions was breathtaking, a brand of casual violence like nothing I’d ever seen. There were other humans in the room–not just me, but a bunch of his lackeys. He could have fed on one of us. She didn’t have to die, not like that.
His methods were clearer to me, if no more understandable. Dealing with him was not the same thing as fighting with Royce or Rohrik Donovan. It wasn’t even like fighting David Borowsky or Anastasia Alderov. This was monstrous, unnecessary brutality. This was waste, killing for the sake of killing, rather than by necessity. Killing to make a point.
When I dragged my gaze up from the floor to look at him, he smiled down at me. Soft. Polite. Even with the woman’s lifeblood on his lips, staining his fangs, that smile was endearing and subtly appealing. A deep-seated fear the binding couldn’t suppress washed through me as I met those empty, glittering eyes.
This was what a real monster looked like–a thing, a body with intelligence, but no conscience to guide it.
Chapter 30
Max took most of his people with him as he swept out of the room, heading downstairs. He left a couple of his men to watch over me, Mouse, and what was left of Royce’s entourage. There were enough of us to overwhelm the guards if we rushed them, but, aside from me, Max’s people were the only ones in the room with guns. Nobody had frisked me, so I wasn’t sure if anyone knew I had weapons yet. Though I’d probably have the element of surprise, most of Royce’s people were in shock or too hurt to fight. I wasn’t feeling brave enough to take on two armed guards by myself.
Royce’s people didn’t seem to be holding up too well. There were only two other women in the room, both human, each one huddling and weeping in the protective arms of a lover or friend among the vampires left behind. There were bite marks and bruises on a lot of the humans cringing behind the vamps.
I have to admit, I stared when I saw a couple of the men fall into each other’s arms. It’s not that I’m homophobic so much as it wasn’t the sort of thing you see every day. The poor guy who’d made a run for it downstairs was being cradled by a sobbing, dark-skinned man who had better taste in clothes than most women. Another was crouched beside them, rubbing the guy’s back and whispering sympathies, his pale skin and ashy hair a stark contrast against the bloodstains around his mouth. By the angle of his neck and the limpness to the limbs, it looked like Peter had killed the crying man’s donor.
Mouse was pacing, back and forth, back and forth, like a caged tiger considering means of escape. The look in her eyes was positively predatory. I was very glad that she was on my side. Even though Max had kicked her ass, I had the feeling he was the only vampire around with the age, strength, and speed to have done
so. I’d bet good money John would’ve been creamed if he’d tried besting her in a physical fight.
I got up, too, feeling way too jittery to sit still, especially with the way Mouse was stalking around. When her gaze shot to me, drawn by my sudden movements, I ignored the spark of hunger in her eyes. The two guards on the door, vamps I didn’t know, watched with deceptive boredom. I was sure they’d be on us quick enough if we tried anything funny.
Mouse stopped moving, staring at me. It was creepy as anything, what with the ruby gleam flashing from dilated pupils. What was her problem?
Before I could blink, she was on me. One of her hands was at my waist, bruisingly tight as she yanked me close, the other pulling my wrist to her mouth, fingers working at the edge of my armored clothing. Her fangs raked over my skin. As I inhaled to scream, Max’s men started shouting and pulling at her, tearing her off me.
She twisted away from them without a sound, staying down when one of them shoved her to the floor. He held a gun on her, the other one taking my arm and pulling me close. I lifted my shaking hand to see what she’d done, shivering in reaction as the guy holding me grabbed my wrist to examine the tiny scratches her fangs had left on my skin. Holy Mother of God, she was fast.
“Max isn’t going to like that,” he observed, a brief glimmer of hunger making his eyes turn red. “Bad move.”
“Shit, did she bite her?”
“No. Just a nick.”
The guy holding the gun grimaced, gesturing to the room in the back. “Just have her wash it up, Bill. I don’t want the boss thinking we fucked up again.”
“Is there a bathroom?” Bill demanded of Mouse. When she nodded, gesturing weakly to the back of the room, he shoved me toward the closed door. “Move it. Go rinse the blood off, and hurry the fuck up. Don’t keep us waiting.”