BloodMarked (The Fraktioneers Book 1)

by Lu J Whitley

  ★ ★ ★

  Breathe in. Breathe out. “Uuaaarrgh!” A flare of pain ripped the next stunted inhale from Jami’s lungs.

  “Where is Fraktion,” Brandt asked coolly, though the droplets of sweat dappling his forehead belied his air of calm. He was fading. Fast. Jami knew he’d be out within the hour. Just have to hold on for that long. “Where. Is. Fraktion?” When he received no answer, Brandt signaled his guards to move their makeshift screen aside, letting the hot rays shine across the entire left side of Jami’s body. He turned his naked torso into the wall as much as he could, shielding himself as well as his position allowed. It did little good though. The thick steel spikes held his muscles firmly in place. His skin crackled like meat in hot oil, and he gagged, the stench of burning flesh filling his nostrils and throat. Brandt flexed a slim hand, and the screen was set back into place. “Jaromir.” He tutted with his tongue against the roof of his mouth, one hand rising to smooth the crease of fatigue that was beginning to form between his arched eyebrows. “You will tell me. Save yourself this anguish, and tell me now.”

  Jami closed his eyes and retreated into his mind, ignoring both Brandt and the thin wisps of smoke that rose from his blistered skin. His teeth chattered against each other so hard, he thought they would break. His whole body shook from pain and exhaustion. But he’d been through worse and recovered. He would get through this as well. He concentrated his focus on the metal bands that still encircled his wrists and neck. He knew that Brandt was expending too much force to keep those bonds in place. Every hour, their power had waned a little bit more. Soon, he thought, as he carefully tested the strength of the metal shackle that hung around his left arm. The shredded and charred skin had thinned out his wrist, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d be able to slide his hand through. He fought back a wry smile. Yes, Soon.

  ★ ★ ★

  Deacon peered at her over the rim of his reading glasses, like a disappointed school marm. “That is all, Miss Brandt.”

  “So you’re not even gonna try?” Greta’s hands were fisted so tightly at her side, her fingernails drew blood. “He’s being tortured, and you’re just going to sit on your ass and do nothing?” He didn’t respond, and she didn’t care to waste any more time trying to reason with the man. For the last half hour, she’d been debriefed and rebriefed and grilled like a steak on a barbeque. But she was no closer to convincing the staunch leader that going after Jami was the right thing to do. Hell, at some point in the conversation, he’d even half convinced her it wasn’t the right thing. She had to admit, going back into that place now the Takers knew their location was compromised and would likely be on high alert, probably wasn’t the best tactical plan, and she couldn’t really blame Deacon for not wanting to risk his men’s lives on a fool’s errand. But her heart was cracking into a million pieces inside her chest. Someone had to be on the receiving end of all that hurt. But Deacon had already dropped his gaze to the mountain of paperwork strewn across his desk, all thoughts of her forgotten.

  She turned and looked up at Stein, who had been standing in the corner the whole damned time, quiet as a gigantic church mouse. He gave her a short slash of his chin, signaling her to drop it, and then he disappeared through the door of the office. She followed. What else could she do? “You’re not seriously gonna sit around with your thumb up your ass while Jami is still out there, are you?” The big man didn’t answer, rounding the next corner without as much as glancing in her direction. His long legs ate up the distance so quickly, she almost had to run to keep up. “Stein!”

  He put up an index finger at the end of an outstretched arm, silencing her. His eyes darted to the left and right down the long hallway. She could feel the tension rolling off of the big man, so she decided to hold her snide remarks and obey. The hair on her arms rose as she, too, studied the hallway for whatever was setting off Stein’s bad juju alarm. Anything that worried him would probably eat her for breakfast.

  When he started moving again, he motioned for her to follow him down a side corridor. They walked for what seemed like miles to her aching toes. Reminder: get some boots that fit at the earliest possible convenience. Finally, Stein’s big body came to a halt outside a tiny door. She took a look up at the top of the troll’s head and back at the door. How the hell was he going to fit? But he seemed determined, so she let him place his hand on the small of her back and usher her inside. For her benefit, Stein reached out and flicked the toggle switch to the side of the doorway, causing a line of fluorescent bulbs to buzz with life. She expected, when her eyes adjusted, to be standing in a broom closet. A bathroom. A small laundry room, even. But like all of the other spaces she’d seen so far at Fraktion, this room was nothing like what it seemed from the outside. It was like Mary Poppins’ carpet bag around here.

  The room was huge and angled off to the left, not running perpendicular to the hallway. Which threw her brain for a little bit of a loop. Whoever had designed the underground compound had either been a genius or been on one hell of an epic drug cocktail. Stein straightened out, heading past her to the large bed that occupied the center of the rhomboid. He threw down his field knife. His sidearm. Both pieces of metal bounced slightly before making little dents in the downy coverlet.

  She went to open her mouth to begin bombarding him with all the questions that were building up inside her mind, but no sound came out. Because he bent to remove his boots and began to… strip. Whoa. “Whoa.” Greta put up both of her palms in a ‘What the fuck’ gesture. “I’m flattered, but no.” Christ, if he wanted to start something, there was no way she’d be able to get away. She took a back-step toward the door, ready to turn tail and run.

  Stein chuckled, shaking his head. “Trust me, you’re not my type.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. Shit. “Okay. Then what are we doing here?”

  He hooked his thumbs in his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing chiseled abs and a rock hard chest covered in more of those thick, black runic designs. Greta’s mouth went a little dry. What were they talking about again?

  “Hey, eyes up!” She snapped her jaw closed and blushed a bit more for good measure. Luckily, there was no heat in his eyes, just humor. Thank the lord. “Anyway, we’re not doing anything. Ever.” He made a slash with his hand to put that idea directly in the ‘not gonna happen’ column. “I am getting ready to go spring your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my…” She began reflexively, but he talked right over the top of her.

  “You’re going to help.”

  ★ ★ ★

  Each stuttered inch gained was excruciating. Jami pulled forward, bracing his ass against the stone wall behind him. The thick steel nails sucked against the healed muscle and bone of his forearms, scraping against his raw blistered skin. Just a little bit more, he coaxed his body into action. Just a little bit more.

  He’d honestly thought Brandt would never leave. The man’s propensity for torture clearly outweighed his waning power. Jami had had to withstand six more turns of that damned screen before his captor had finally given in, and when Brandt had at last decided to leave him to his own devices, the guards had been withdrawn as well - suspicious choice. Perhaps Brandt planned to let him escape, thinking he would lead him to Fraktion. To Greta. But Jami would die first.

  He reasoned to himself that it was more likely that Brandt thought so highly of himself, he was sure Jami wouldn’t be able to escape. After all, he was severely weakened. The sun was setting in the western sky, but he couldn’t take much more of the harmful rays before he’d healed completely. He didn’t have much by way of options. That didn’t stop Jami from pressing on, finally wriggling his right arm free of the spike. The stiff wave of pain flared through him. Blackness winked in his eye sockets, beckoning him. “No,” he grunted, using the leverage he’d gained to wrench his left arm free as well. Blood rushed into the numb appendages, causing rivers of red to leak through his cracked skin.

  His traitorous stomach rumbled at the
metallic tang of blood in the air. The beast sat at attention, filling him with a leftover power store he hadn’t known he’d possessed. Feed, it whispered, Feed. His aching legs struggled to heed the command, and he hobbled forward, almost careening to the floor, but catching himself just before impact. Feed. The word soaked through his starved brain, pushing out all thoughts of pain. All fear of death.

  The collar that had encircled his neck clanged to the floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jami recognized the runes that had been carved in the metal. He knew their meaning, but as the door burst open, the guards alerted by the sound, all he could see was the red haze falling over the bright room. The sweet scent of Taker blood flooded his sinuses. And his fangs strained to break free of his palate, the sharp points driving downward into his lower lip, making beads of red well up. The guards stopped short, reading the situation in front of them. Shock registered in their disgusting yellow eyes, and the stench of their fear wafted through the air around him.

  A growl rumbled up from his chest in response. Feed, he thought, the one word his whole world, Feed.

  ★ ★ ★

  “You need to relax,” Stein said in that soothing voice he seemed to reserve for these occasions. “Go to sleep.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Greta grumbled, her stomach lurching upward as the tiny aircraft lifted off the ground. Maybe someday, she’d get used to the weightless feeling. Today was not that day. “I don’t know how to do this, Stein.” She wasn’t just talking about communicating with Jami in her mind. The events of the past few days were catching up with her. Fast. She’d caught a stale Snickers bar on the way out of HQ, but the hunger. The exhaustion. She felt like her body was in a constant state of shock, and it couldn’t take much more. If her worst fear waited for her inside her mind, she knew she wouldn’t make it. If Jami didn’t respond… If he was… She didn’t know what she’d do, and that helplessness, it didn’t sit well with her. Not Greta Brandt, she who needed nobody.

  But she did need Jami, she realized with a start. Needed him, and a million other things she couldn’t force herself to face. He’d become her entire world so quickly. She didn’t know if she could make it through this without him. She’d already lost her mother. She couldn’t lose him as well.

  “You did it before.” Stein shrugged in full troll fashion, breaking her from her frantic thoughts. “You’ll do it again.” She nodded and settled in, wrapping Stein’s trench coat around herself more tightly. She breathed in the scent of man and musk and earth, letting her eyes drift closed. Willing her brain to slow, she sought out her white palace, calling it silently toward her conscious mind. “Think of Jaromir,” Stein cooed hypnotically, “Picture him in your mind.” So she did. Picturing Jami’s rugged face. His beautiful ice blue eyes. Those full lips that had felt so strong and hot against hers. She imagined…

  Christ. Blood. So much blood.

  “Jami,” she called, her relief that he was alive was quickly overshadowed by the fear that had her in its grip. “Where are you?”

  He seemed to stop to sniff the air cautiously. The world swam in front of her eyes as he searched to the left and right trying to find the source of the words. Want, he breathed, the sound of his voice like two separate speakers layered over one another. It gave her chills. She’d heard him use that voice before. Once when he’d attacked her alongside an empty highway, and once when he’d had her wrapped in his arms. When he saw her blood, and he’d run from her, leaving her to be captured.

  This wasn’t Jami, and she didn’t know why she hadn’t realized it before. She was talking to the beast that cursed his every waking moment. The owner of the glowing red eyes and the fangs. The one who needed blood to survive. They were two. Separate, and yet one. But she had to find a way to get past the beast - to get to Jami.

  “Jami? Talk to me.” She couldn’t make out the details through the haze of red. Crimson colored snow came into view. A pathway littered with lifeless bodies, their faces hollowed, as if they’d been drained. She couldn’t help the shuddered inhale she took, or the way she wanted to climb out of this nightmare and go back to the safety of the plane. “Jami, please. I need you to talk to me.”

  He shook his head again, as if he was trying to loose her presence from his mind. Out, he grunted, out. He took off at a fast clip, using his hands to scramble over the hills of rock and debris in his way. There were no more bodies here. No more blood. She could feel his sense of freedom as he looked up at the starlit sky and breathed the open air. But suddenly, his whole body stiffened with spasms, like it was trying to tear itself in half. His lungs couldn’t take a full breath, his chest constricted by some emotion. She felt it all the way to her bones. One of his calloused hands raised to his face, shielding his eyes so she couldn’t see. Wouldn’t see. Out, he whispered, the anguish in his voice nearly shattered her to pieces. Stay. Out. Greta. The words were thickened by the sound of air pushing past his elongated fangs. Stay. Out. Please.

  She came to with a jolt, tears welling in the corners of her eyes and threatening to flow free. “What happened?” Stein’s voice pulled her back to reality, acting as her anchor in this world. “Where is he?”

  “He… He’s not there,” she stuttered, tasting the salt of her tears as they trickled over her lips. “He escaped.”

  “What?” Stein cast her a confused look, but when he saw her face, he didn’t press further.

  She must’ve looked worse than she felt. And she felt like she’d been hit by a bus. Jami had pushed her away. “He told me to stay away.” Greta cast her gaze up at the troll’s face. “The blood, Stein. There was so much blood.” Stein reached out and placed a warm hand on her shoulder as her chest heaved with the first sob. “So much blood.”

  ★Chapter 16

  He kicked the desiccated rabbit carcass out of the cave. Feed, the voice in his head demanded, but that was the last of his catch. When the savage sun dipped below the horizon, he'd be on the hunt again.

  Jami rolled onto his side trying to struggle into a fitful sleep. But every time he closed his eyelids a pair of soft violet irises played across his mind, taunting him. Want. The beast refocused. As it did each time Greta's image, her taste, her smell rolled through his fevered brain. It took all of his considerable will power to drive his body down into the dirt. Want. The command was inescapable, but still he fought. He couldn't wander off blindly, seeking her. He couldn't lead Brandt's men to her. To Fraktion.

  Last night, she'd been so close. Only a few hundred miles had separated them. He could have run. He could have caught up with her, but now he'd wrenched a piece of lucidity back from the animal skulking around inside his skull, he was thankful he'd had enough sense left to get away. Far away. He'd felt her. The beast had been tracking his blood running swiftly through her veins. Like a bright star on the map of his thoughts, she was pulling him south, so during the last of the darkness, he'd run north as fast as his legs could carry him. He hadn't made it far before the craggy mountain passes had eaten up the last of his energy stores, and he'd ended up trapped for the day in this forsaken cave. The tide of power leeched slowly from his bloodstream, leaving him exhausted.

  The Taker blood seemed to be nothing more than a quick fix. His whole body vibrated with power at the first taste, but it was short lived. He had to have more and more of it to keep him going. Keep that feeling of near invincible euphoria. And though it disgusted him to the bottom of his cursed soul to admit it - even to himself - he wanted more. Craved it. With each slimy bastard he'd drained dry, he'd thought of nothing more than finding his next victim.

  If Greta's fearful voice hadn't broken through his blood-fueled rage, he had no doubt that he'd still be back at that black fortress, prowling the halls until every last Taker had fallen beneath his fangs. But she had broken through. Loud and clear. A sick knot of regret formed in his chest. She'd been inside of him, and before he'd known what was happening, she'd seen, and she'd felt him. She had to have known the bottomless chasm of hunger that
had him littering the ground with bodies and blood. He'd felt the starkness of her horror like a slap in the face. There was nothing he could do but shut his eyes and try to shield her from the devastation he was capable of, and then push her away.

  She was hurt - bone deep, and she was terrified. Unforgivable feelings. In that one interaction, he'd managed to strip away everything they'd built together, or everything he'd hoped they would one day build. He knew, now that she'd seen him for what he truly was, he'd lost her for good. "Stupid," he harrumphed to himself as he wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to stop his foolish heart from tearing in two. Perhaps he could have changed it all. Maybe he could have gone after her and tried to make her see that this wasn't him. It was just the beast. But even inside his head, he could hear the lies in his voice.

  Something inside of him had changed when he'd felt those first drops of Taker blood slide down his waiting throat. It had darkened. Hardened. He wasn't the same man who had held her in his arms. Who'd pressed his lips to her hot skin and heard the soft noises of encouragement she'd made. Want. Two voices chimed in his head, so similar now he couldn't tell which one was his own. Want. He did want. He wanted so badly he could almost taste her streaming across his tongue. Had dreamed in his half-crazed mind that he had her underneath him. He was sunk inside her, his cock and fangs pushed deep, and he was draining her dry.

  “No,” he gasped out, sleep rushing from him like a wave from the shore. He was shaking so hard his teeth clacked together. “I won’t hurt her,” he told himself, or the beast, or the rabbit who was staring up at him through hollowed eye sockets. “I won’t.” He sat back against the wall of the cave, blinking hard against the sliver of pale sunlight that glimmered just beyond his reach. The racking shudders slowly subsided, but the feeling - the fear - remained.