Night's Cold Kiss

by Tracey O'Hara

  “And Antoinette’s fear. Can you track him?” Christian asked.

  “Yes, but it’s easier in bear form. I changed back to get out of here.” He stuck his head through the window and with muscles bunching, jumped out to land on the ground below. Christian followed him, bending his knees to absorb the impact. He was more tuned into her than anything else and her fear-laced scent was stronger in the alley.

  Oberon squatted over a body and the scent of blood was everywhere. For a split second Christian feared it was Antoinette, but the blood was all wrong.

  Oberon stood, his eyes hot and furious. “He’s killed Dylan.”

  Christian could smell the rage and grief pouring off the ursian. His friend had been killed, just like Viktor.

  “Let’s get him,” Oberon growled.

  Heat rose in Christian’s chest and he clenched his fists at his side. “This way.”

  Oberon transformed as he raced down the alley and set off at a lumbered run up the road with his large head sniffing the ground.

  The sound of a striking match intruded on her groggy senses with a sulfurous odor, bringing her out of the fog. Metal squealed and Antoinette opened one eye to see a rusty kerosene lamp being lit. Pain burst into her head, blinding her. She closed her eyes against the light.

  When the nausea and throbbing subsided, she tried again. Not quite so bad this time and she finally managed to open them all the way.

  Chains clanked when she tried to move, her shoulders ached, and pins and needles prickled her hands since her arms were secured above her head. Her brain instantly cleared and she grunted against the gag stuffed into her mouth. Cold stone or concrete chilled her back and she hung secured by shackles to the wall.

  Panic began to bubble in her stomach and she pushed it down. No use losing her head yet. But where was she?

  A dark shape crossed her hazy vision. “You’re awake at last—good. It’s no fun if you’re not conscious.”

  Dante’s cold voice set off the cold lump of panic in the pit of her gut. His dark shape moved closer.

  Antoinette squinted and blinked her eyes a couple of times to clear her vision, trying to get a bearing on where he held her. The glow from the lamp flickered shadows on the gray concrete walls, the light growing brighter as he walked around the room igniting candles. Water dripped somewhere and three tunnels ran off the room into darkness. It looked like a sewer junction.

  As she glanced around the makeshift torture chamber her blood turned to ice. On a shelf, dead eyes stared down at her, the horror frozen in the expressions of the missing fang-whore heads. Their faces were all shiny, like they’d been preserved by some sort of lacquer. Beneath the macabre display dozens of pictures were pinned. Some were just of her and some with other people. There was one of Christian and her kneeling over Viktor’s prone body, the grief and terror twisting her features. Another had her at the party dressed in the elegant gown on Lucian’s arm.

  He’d been watching her.

  Images of Lucian also featured prominently on the walls—some with her, some by himself, and some with other people too. She wasn’t the only person Dante obsessed about.

  Lucian’s in danger.

  “Do you like my workshop?” Dante said, his eyes holding hers with chilling intensity.

  Antoinette’s heart fell. She wriggled her hands, testing her bonds, but they held tight and she looked down to see her feet too were bound and set in a low metal tub. She closed her eyes and silently prayed Christian would find her before it was too late.

  “Don’t worry, Christian and his ursian friend won’t be able to find us here,” he said as if reading her mind. “We’ll have all night to ourselves.”

  He lit another lamp and hung it above her head. “I wouldn’t want you to miss anything important,” he said, kissing her forehead, leaving her skin crawling with revulsion. She tried to jerk her head away. It only made him chuckle louder.

  “So where will we start? How about dinner and a show? You’ll be dinner and then the show.” Dante’s cold smile split his face and she felt her hatred bubble to the surface, burning the back of her throat with bile.

  The concrete wall chilled her backbone, and she realized she wore only her underwear. The cold made her nipples stand out puckered and painful. She desperately wanted to cover herself, but with her hands tied, she was helpless.

  He moved closer, licking his lips and opened his mouth to show her his fully extended fangs. A shiver of fear snaked through her stomach. She instinctively knew his bite would cause pain rather than the heated desire she felt with Christian.

  He started to strip, folding his clothes carefully and placing them on a high shelf out of the way. He kept undressing until he finally stood before her, naked and semi-aroused.

  For the first time, Antoinette noticed old rusty brown and black stains on the floor around her. The kind dried blood made. So this was where he’d killed them.

  From the makeshift bench along the wall he picked up a knife—the same knife she’d used to stab him earlier. “I’ve sharpened it a little since you last used it.”

  He held the blade up to the light, twisting it so she could see the new edge. “I want this to be even better than the time I spent with your mother.” His smile deepened as she flinched, her stomach twisting. “I’ve waited such a long time.”

  He closed in, grin widening, and she pressed back hard against the wall, wrenching her hands and fighting against the shackles. He ran the flat of the cold blade over the exposed swell of her breast above her bra.

  She screamed against her gag, partly in frustration but mostly in rage. She narrowed her gaze, looking him in the eye.

  His smiled deepened and his erection swelled as he moved the knife down between her breasts and sliced through the lace. It parted under the weight of her breasts. His eyes glowed with a manic desire as he sliced through the straps over her shoulders and with a tiny groan he licked his lips as he discarded the remnants over his shoulder.

  Antoinette swallowed the nausea fast rising in her gut.

  He watched her face as he cut away her panties, leaving her totally naked. She stared back. There was no way she would give him the satisfaction of showing just how degraded she felt. Her hate for him washed over her, bringing with it a kind of insane calmness.

  “Now for some fun.” Hunger burned in his cold eyes as he rubbed himself against her.

  His arousal pressed against her hip, she tried to move away from it, but he just pressed against her harder and drew the blade across her chest above her breasts. His erection surged.

  The pain, searing and sharp, burned across her chest. He squeezed her face so she had to look at him and couldn’t turn away while he lifted the knife blade to his tongue, tasting her blood.

  His brow furrowed and he spat in disgust. “You whore—first you let him have you, and now you’ve tainted your blood with disgusting hate.”

  Her head slammed into the concrete wall with his backhanded slap. Antoinette’s ears rang and dark stars burst in her vision. He hit her again.

  Laughter bubbled up her throat and out her mouth. It was as if another person did it, not her, she couldn’t stop it.

  Dante’s expression grew confused and stormed to the other side of the room.

  When he turned, his composure was once again in place. “No matter—I can still have my fun.”

  He drew his palm across her wound then cupped himself. He threw back his head and sighed as he ran his hand down his shaft, smearing it with her crimson blood.

  He looked at her through desire-hooded eyes. “I’m going to make you bleed and I’m going to make you scream.”

  He ripped the gag from her mouth and sliced the knife across her left thigh, then did the same with her right. Despite the searing pain, she bit down on her lip to stifle any cries and the warm metallic tang filled her mouth.

  “Come on.” Dante rubbed himself against her, pumping his fist up and down his shaft. “Give me your voice.”

  He s
liced across her stomach with a half-dozen shallow cuts. They weren’t deep, but bled just the same, and all the while he masturbated with her blood.

  Antoinette tried to block it out by closing her eyes, still biting back the scream she trapped in her throat. She felt the stickiness coating her legs and looked down to see it pooling around her feet, just as it had in her nightmares.

  I’m going to die. The scream finally tore free.

  Bear-Oberon padded around the street in front of Christian’s house, sniffing and walking in circles.

  He transformed back. “She was here, but so was Dante. And this is where the trail ends.” He looked at Christian. “He’s played us—it was all part of his game.”

  A howl came from the direction of the brownstone. Cerberus. Christian sprinted toward the house. “Kavindish,” he called, racing through the door. “Where’s the dog?”

  The butler appeared. “I locked him in the basement, sir. I didn’t want him getting in the way.”

  “I think he senses her too,” Christian said, opening the basement door. Cerberus bounded out and headed for the nearest window, but Kavindish ran ahead and opened the front door for him. The dog exited the house and stopped on the other side of the street. He sniffed and growled, scratching at the ground.

  Oberon arrived. “What’s going on?”

  “He knows she was here.”

  The ursian pulled on the pants Kavindish handed him and squatted to examine the area. “Skid marks—someone’s pulled out of here very fast not long ago. He’s taken her, but where?”

  Christian turned to the butler. “Have you tried calling Miss Petrescu’s cell?”

  “Yes, sir. But she doesn’t pick up. And it’s not in her room, I searched.”

  Oberon took a cell phone from his saddle bags grabbed from the hog parked close by and slid it open. “I need a trace on Antoinette Petrescu’s cell; the number is on my desk. Call with the coordinates as soon as you have them.”

  “Of course, the GPS chip. Let’s take my SUV.”

  Christian led Oberon to the underground garage where he parked and Cerberus followed. He didn’t have the heart to tell the dog to stay. As the SUV left the garage, Oberon’s cell rang.

  “You’re sure?” he said after listening for a few seconds then closed the phone.

  “Where?” Christian said.

  “The coordinates lead to the abandoned building where we cornered him last time.”

  “Why would they—when they found out it was a satanic cult temple they pulled all surveillance. Dylan had…” Oberon turned to look out the window.

  Christian glanced at the ursian. “I’m sorry.”

  Oberon nodded. “I just don’t know what I’m going to tell his sister.” He straightened in his seat and his head brushed the top of the SUV, the seat groaned under the weight. “But right now we have to get to Antoinette before he kills her too.”

  Christian’s heart beat skipped. He couldn’t bear to lose her now, not when…When what? What kind of relationship did they have? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care—he just needed to save her.

  Oberon was silent for the rest of the journey and Christian concentrated on getting them there the quickest way he could. The black SUV bore the Department insignia and the sirens were blearing, but he had to be aware of the other street users and drive defensively. All he wanted to do was drive through anyone who got in his way. Antoinette was in danger and nothing else mattered.

  When they reached the abandoned building, Christian parked the SUV and Oberon pulled out a pair of 9mm Berettas.

  Christian’s skin prickled and a low growl erupted from Cerberus. Antoinette was near—they both sensed it. The dog shot off at a run, and Christian gave chase, slapping Oberon’s shoulder as he passed.

  They entered the building and didn’t slow. Each step the feeling of her nearness grew stronger until they were finally in a basement chamber.

  “This is where we found him last time,” Oberon said, looking around the cold empty room.

  Cerberus sniffed around the large carved stone platform in the center of the dirty floor. He started to whine and scratch at the base. Oberon moved closer with Christian. He could feel her more now. And she was in pain…so much pain.

  He pushed hard against the platform. It moved. He pushed harder and Oberon joined him. Agony sliced through his muscles. No, not his, hers. The bastard was slicing into her. With an extra burst of strength, the platform moved back to reveal a hole in the floor.

  Without waiting, Christian leapt into the hole and turned to catch Cerberus as the dog jumped after him. Oberon followed. A darkened sewer tunnel led left and right.

  Cerberus whined quietly, looking to the left. The overwhelming odor of waste, rats, and garbage could not hide the underlying scent of human decay and fresh terror.

  Christian took a step but the ursian’s hand fell on his shoulder. Oberon put his finger to his lips for silence and mouthed, Take him alive; and with a short, sharp nod they both moved along the sewer tunnel. Christian projected constant calming thoughts at Cerberus to keep the dog from making any noise as they closed in on a patch of flickering light ahead, the air filling with fear, anger, and fresh blood.

  Oberon took a left, then he took a right and they entered together. Christian had seen several wars, but nothing could have prepared him for the horror he found in that room. Severed blond heads ringed the walls, their own eyes plucked out and replaced with emerald green glass ones.

  There was no sign of Dante. Christian, pistol pointing ahead, rounded a concrete pillar to find Antoinette shackled naked to the far wall, head slumped forward and covered in blood.

  Christian’s heart clenched to a stop at the sight. He raced to her side and dropped as he put the gun back in his holster. Her breathing was soft and shallow. Her hair hung in a tacky blood-soaked mess; he gently lifted her face pushing aside the sticky locks. Her eyes fluttered open and his name formed on her lips, but no sound came out. There was so much blood.

  He was losing her—just like Viktor—just like Dominique and his father.

  A drop of crimson appeared on his forearm. He looked at it. Where had it come from?

  He glanced up. A primitive form clung to the ceiling above; glittering gray eyes stared down from a crimson-painted face.

  Blood!

  It was completely smeared head to toe with blood—Antoinette’s blood. The form hissed at him, fangs exposed then dropped.

  Christian reacted too late to the attack. The naked red figure landed on his feet and swept Christian into the wall like a toothpick.

  Dante!

  Christian hit a large pipe with the middle of his back. All the breath rushed from his lungs with the impact. The crunching sound of bones snapping echoed through the cavernous chamber. Paralyzed and helpless, Christian could only lay there, back broken, as Dante ran his knuckle across Antoinette’s face in a ghoulish parody of affection.

  “She’s mine now, all mine.” His white teeth were highlighted against his red-stained skin.

  Antoinette moved her head and groaned, fighting his touch. Christian glanced past Dante at Oberon creeping behind, pointing his pistols at the madman’s head.

  Dante flicked his wrist and the ursian smashed into the pillar, dust and chunks of concrete flying with the impact. He lay on the ground, unmoving and unconscious as the dust settled on his dreadlocked head.

  “Now you’ll watch while I make her mine forever.” Dante bit into his wrist, his dark blood flowing and mixing with the bright red of hers on his skin. He drew on the wound and lifted Antoinette’s face so her lips were level with his.

  Her eyes opened at that very minute. Terror filled her eyes as she realized what he was about to do. She tried to back her head away—to turn from his kiss, but Dante closed the distance between their mouths.

  “Nooooo!” Christian screamed.

  Out of nowhere Cerberus launched himself at the insane Aeternus, his jaws closing on Dante’s forearm. The force was enough
to push him away from Antoinette as he flung the dog high against the wall beside Christian with a sickening crunch.

  A shot rang out and Dante’s right ear disintegrated.

  Oberon pointed the pistol as he struggled onto his hands and knees, gun in hand. Dante pulled his hand away from his ear, still holding a hunk of flesh. He looked at Oberon then at Christian and roared before leaping over the scattered bit of furniture and out of the junction opening.

  Oberon stretched up, bones popping and crunching as he transformed into bear form.

  Christian’s back was mending, but not fast enough. He crawled toward Antoinette, bones crunching together as his ribs knitted back together.

  The bear landed on all fours and turned in the direction Dante went.

  “Help Antoinette,” Christian said.

  The bear turned toward her slumped body and back to the junction entrance, then he reared up on his hind legs and roared in frustration. He lumbered over and ripped the shackle chain from where it was bolted to the wall, pulling a large chunk of concrete with it. Antoinette collapsed into Oberon’s huge fur-covered arms. He laid her on the ground and turned to pull the leg shackles out as well.

  Christian finally reached her side and felt her pulse. It slowed—rapidly.

  Oberon transformed back to human. “Is she dead?”

  “No, but she’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Oberon kneeled on the other side of her. “Too much. She won’t make it—not even if we can get her to hospital. She’s gone.”

  “Not if I can help it.” Christian bit down on his wrist and sucked in a little of his own blood into his mouth. He would finish what Dante had started and save her.

  He tilted back her head and parted her cold, pale lips then pressed his mouth to hers, forcing her to accept his eternal-kiss. Finally she drank, her throat working to swallow his life-giving essence. Hope flared.