by Susan Illene
Cori stared at him confused. “I don’t understand.”
“I imagine you don’t.”
She took a deep breath. “Then why don’t you explain it to me.”
Griff’s expression turned sour. “How about you explain to me how you got that mating mark? It wasn’t there the last time I came near you, but I could feel it upstairs the moment I woke up.”
Shit. She knew this mood with Griff, and it never went well.
“It was a…” Cori’s mind raced. “An accident. We didn’t mean for it to happen.”
He snarled and pushed closer until their noses were almost touching. “Claiming marks are never accidents. I’ve spent these past few years learning a lot about the supernatural world from among the best. The mark only works if both sides accept it.”
“I didn’t know what I was accepting,” she argued, though she knew it was pointless. He was pissed that she’d ever bind herself to another man aside from him. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t intentional.
“Don’t give me that shit.” Griff reached out and put a hand around her throat. “Your subconscious knew what was happening, and it accepted the bond for you. That wasn’t right. You knew you were mine, and that I had already returned for you when you gave yourself to that nephilim.”
Cori tried scooting away from him, but her back hit a post. She was trapped, and her ex-husband’s grip on her throat was tightening. It was all she could do to squeeze out her next words, “I’m not yours.”
“You bitch.” He let go of her throat and backhanded her.
Pain exploded in her cheek, and she keeled over onto the floor.
“Get up!” he commanded.
Gasping through the discomfort of her throbbing cheek, she struggled to wrench herself back into a sitting position. It wasn’t easy with her hands bound behind her back. Griff watched with eyes so cold glaciers would have seemed warmer.
When she didn’t get up fast enough for his liking, he yanked her up by her neck. “You will be mine once I’m finished with you. That ugly-looking nephilim only thinks you’re his now, but not for much longer.”
Cori couldn’t breathe. Griff was clutching her throat in such a vise-like grip that he’d closed off her airway. Her vision began to swim before her, and her thoughts became cloudy. While he continued to stare down at her with malevolent intent, she lost sight of him as everything went dark. Cori let herself go, sinking into the oblivion unconsciousness could bring.
She’d used that escape many times with him.
Sometime later, maybe only a few minutes, she woke up slumped against the post. Griff had moved a few feet away and sat with his legs bent in front of him and his arms resting on his knees. He didn’t look the slightest bit concerned that she’d passed out. If anything, he appeared annoyed that he’d had to wait for her to open her eyes again. That was normal behavior for him. Cori had been on this roller coaster ride enough times that it was hard not to revert to her old self—the woman who didn’t fight and gave the man whatever he wanted if it meant the pain would stop. She’d thought she’d gotten past this.
“If your lover had been smart, he would have had you turned into a vampire,” Griff said, shaking his head.
She took a deep breath. “Why? Would it make it easier for you to torture me?”
“Yes. I owe you a lot of pain, but turning is a delicate process.” He paused, considering. “And it takes time we don’t have.”
Cori was used to Griff’s moods swinging from one direction to another. He was becoming reflective and chatty now, which was a lot easier to handle as long as she followed along. “Why come after me now? It’s been almost four years.”
“That’s complicated,” he replied.
She’d figured as much. “I’ve got time.”
He stared at her with narrowed eyes. For a moment, Cori worried she’d pushed her luck.
“I was turned by a vampire named Variola,” he finally replied.
Cori nodded, having already suspected that.
“I wasn’t with her for long. She had a master as well—a nephilim who wanted me for herself. I was told my vengeance would have to wait because she wanted me in New York.” Griff worked his jaw. “It wasn’t until recently that I was given a new mission, and a chance to see you again.”
Cori’s thoughts raced as she put the pieces together. There was only one female nephilim who he could be talking about. “You mean Zoe told you to come here? I thought she was in Russia.”
Surprise flickered in Griff’s gaze. “You know a lot for a human.”
“I helped the supernaturals kick Zoe out when she tried to take over Fairbanks last year,” Cori explained.
Since she was human and able to resist compulsion, Melena had used her to do missions in the city while they were stuck outside of it. Zoe had an army occupying the town, including her own team of sensors, so there’d been no easy way for the sups or Melena to infiltrate the area. Cori was the only one who could move freely through the checkpoints, faking her answers whenever the guards asked her questions under compulsion.
“Russia turned out to be the perfect place for Zoe,” Griff replied, pulling a black stone with silver veins running through it from his pocket. “It allowed her to track this rare item down.”
Cori frowned. “What is it?”
“One of several Gregorian stones she uncovered. It blocks the powers of anyone with angel blood in them, including sensors, as I’ve learned. Zoe was fairly certain it would work, but she made me test it out.” He rolled the stone across his palm. “It’s far more effective than either of us hoped, but there’s still one more test to run.”
Cori’s chest tightened. Something in Griff’s voice told her the final test would be the worst of all. “Why isn’t the stone affecting you? I thought vamps were originally born from nephilim.”
“We were, but the black magic used to create us corrupted our blood—and we’re technically dead.” He gave her a satisfied look. “The stone doesn’t work on us.”
She clenched her fists. This was bad, very bad. The female nephilim who had sent Griff was the worst enemy of Cori’s friends and had caused them all kinds of problems in the past. That was on top of her being power hungry and conniving. She also had a daughter, Rebecca, at the nerou training compound who wanted nothing to do with her mother. Zoe blamed Melena, Lucas, Micah, and Derrick for causing the rift. The archangels had confined her to Russia for now, but apparently that didn’t stop her from reaching out by some other method.
“So you’re here to get revenge for Zoe.”
Griff snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. She wouldn’t send a young vampire like me for that. I’m just here to make sure the stone works properly, and get my reward for loyal service to her.”
“You get a second chance at life, and this is what you do?” Cori shook her head, unable to hold back her feelings. “You’re allying yourself with one of the most evil women on the planet. I can’t think of anything more disgusting.”
He moved so fast she didn’t see the fist coming until it had already connected with her jaw. Pain exploded in her head, and she hit the floor. Griff picked Cori up and hit her again several times in the stomach. She cried out, feeling as if he’d just turned her insides to mush.
“Think you’re too good for me?” Griff asked in an angry voice, tossing her down. “I’m going to beat you until you’re an inch from dying, then bring you back with my blood, and start all over again.”
Cori rolled onto her side and spat out blood. She angled her face to look up at him. “Good luck with that. Do you want to know the real reason I’m not a vampire? Because a mystic predicted that I can’t survive the turn, and it would kill me.” She let out a bitter laugh. “So go ahead if you’re willing to risk it.”
Griff made a snarling sound and picked her up. “One way or another, you will be mine—even if it’s only in death.”
He fed her a mouthful of his blood, enough to heal the worst of her wounds without turning her,
then he started hitting her again.
“You’re worthless,” he shouted. “I don’t even know why I want you.”
He grabbed hold of her ankle and snapped it. Cori screamed, tears of agony flowing down her cheeks. Griff looked down at her like she was less than the dirt she lay upon. She tried scooting away from him, but he just pulled her back. She couldn’t escape, and she couldn’t fight. This was her worst nightmare coming to life all because she’d been stupid and left Bartol’s home without protection. Maybe she was worthless. Maybe she did deserve the pain.
Griff kicked her in the side.
It was all Cori could do to suck in air. She glanced up at him through the tangled fall of her hair, knowing how pathetic she must look. “What do you want from me?”
“For you to beg like the bitch you are.” He picked her up by the shoulders and held her so high she couldn’t touch the ground. “And to admit that you’re mine.”
“Never,” she swore.
Griff tossed her into the nearest wall. Her spine cracked, and she slumped to the floor in a puddle. He stomped over to her, examined the damage with a critical eye, and fed her more blood. It took longer this time to heal, but once she was mostly recovered, he started in on her again. Cori became nothing more than a human punching bag—worse than anything her ex-husband had done to her before.
As she went through waves of horrific agony that shouldn’t have been possible, she wished for death. Anything would have been better than being at the mercy of Griff. The only thing he didn’t do was drink her blood or try to rape her. No, he focused on reminding her why she deserved nothing except pain.
“You’re a murderer,” he shouted after the third beating. “And not just because you tried to kill me, but you also killed that man I sent to hurt you a little. There ain’t nothing good about you, which is the real reason our daughter is dead. Even God knew you didn’t deserve her.”
She sobbed, lying in the fetal position on the floor unable to move.
“Be glad I’m helping you see clearly.” Griff kicked her in the back, sending piercing pain down her spine. “Because you can’t accept love from nobody—not even me.”
Tears ran down her cheeks. He was right. It only took a reminder for her to see that she didn’t deserve Bartol, her friends, or anyone. How could she have forgotten that?
Chapter 27
Bartol
Thirty-six hours had passed since they’d discovered Cori had gone missing, and they were no closer to finding her. Bartol was in a near state of panic at this point. Through the bond, he’d felt his mate suffering and her hope fading. Griff had been hurting her in agonizing ways that would surely kill her if he didn’t stop soon.
The previous night, Bartol had been reduced to curling into a ball, unable to do anything except ride the pain with Cori and try futilely to reach out to her. According to Lucas and Melena, the bond shouldn’t have been strong enough yet for him to experience her pain while conscious, which led them to believe the situation had to be quite bad if he did. He only wished he’d forged an even stronger connection so that he could find her.
For now, the agony had stopped, but the vampire would be awake again soon.
Bartol rode in the passenger seat of Emily’s red Hummer, drumming his fingers on the armrest as he scanned the roadside. He knew he wouldn’t find Griff or Cori standing there just waiting to be found, but he needed to do something. Tormod was in the backseat watching the roads just as closely. The nerou had been deeply upset when he found out what happened and insisted on riding along with Bartol and Emily during the search. Lucas and Melena formed their own team, and there were more than a dozen other groups scouring the area as well. It was a mystery how they had not discovered Griff yet.
“Still not picking up anything,” Emily said, frustration on her face.
Bartol pointed up ahead to a narrow dirt road they’d missed when they traveled this way earlier. “Turn there. It should get us to an area we haven’t covered yet.”
Everyone had sectors to check around the Fairbanks region. They’d divided the nerou off into teams with the werewolves working during the day and vampires taking a turn at night. This was probably the largest-scale search that had ever been done by supernaturals for a human being. It humbled Bartol that so many had come out to help, even if he had been a little demanding about it.
Whether Cori realized it or not, she was a favorite within the community. It likely helped that she was the primary tattoo artist for most of them since she had adapted her skills to their healing abilities, and she showed no fear of them. Cori was kind yet sarcastic to everyone, regardless of their race, making them feel comfortable around her. She truly had no idea of her value.
“Are you sensing anything?” Bartol asked after a few minutes, growing more impatient as the sun fell farther in the sky.
They were in a remote area northeast of Fairbanks that didn’t get much traffic, and there weren’t a lot of homes. It wasn’t very far from where Bartol had come through the portal from Purgatory. He noted the forest was still scarred from the fire outbreaks during the spring, and large swaths of trees were gone. The only advantage to that was it made it easier to see deeper into the land without the thick vegetation getting in the way.
Emily clutched the steering wheel. “Nothing. I don’t think they’re here.”
Bartol’s phone rang. He checked the screen and saw Melena’s name pop up.
“Yes,” he answered.
“I just got a call from Yvonne,” the sensor said, sounding breathless. “She’s agreed to let Micah heal her so she can do a locator spell on Cori.”
Bartol had heard Melena went to visit the mystic in the hospital. Yvonne had been adamant that she didn’t want “supernatural” help and believed she should let nature take its course. That wasn’t unusual for her race. They believed their magic was at its best when they kept themselves untainted, but of course there were always exceptions. He desperately hoped this was one.
“Are you certain?” Bartol asked, afraid to get his hopes up.
“Yes. She feels she owes Cori that much,” Melena paused, “but there’s just one catch.”
Bartol leaned forward in his seat, noting the others in the vehicle were listening just as closely with their enhanced hearing. “What?”
“We need something personal of Cori’s that means a lot to her if we want to find her.”
He thought back to her belongings at his cabin. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Great,” Melena said, sounding relieved. “Micah will need some time to heal Yvonne and then she’ll need a few hours to rest and let her magic regenerate. Can you meet us at Derrick’s place around midnight?”
That was over six hours away. Bartol wished they could speed up the process, but he could hardly blame the delay on Yvonne when she didn’t have to help at all. “I will be there with the item you requested.”
“Okay. See you then.”
Emily let out a sigh of relief, then began turning the Hummer around. “Thank, God. I was beginning to think we were never going to get a break.”
Bartol did as well, though he didn’t voice his thoughts aloud.
***
The reception area was full when Bartol made his way inside the alpha werewolf’s home. Everyone stared at him as he walked across the foyer, carrying a painting he’d carefully wrapped in brown paper. Only the people involved in the locator spell would be allowed to view the portrait. Bartol hated to use it at all, but he felt certain the emotions Cori had for the painting were stronger than anything else she owned. He could not risk using anything less that might not allow them to find her.
It felt good to be doing something useful, and it allowed him to focus on the matter at hand. Bartol hadn’t experienced a fresh round of pain from Cori yet, but he suspected it was only a matter of time. The vampire had likely slowed down because he was on the verge of killing his captive—not a comforting thought at all.
“You’ve got it?” Melen
a asked, heading toward him. She’d been standing in a group with Lucas, Micah, Yvonne, and Dianne. Emily and Tormod were sitting nearby as well.
He held up his wrapped package. “Yes, but it is very personal to Cori. I do not want anyone aside from the mystics and her closest friends seeing it.”
“Okay.” Melena turned and called for everyone’s attention. “A special thanks to everyone who has helped in the search for Cori. Except for those involved in the spell, everyone else needs to clear out of the room. We’ll let you know as soon as we have a location.”
Dozens of sups filed out, giving Bartol probing looks. Several stared at the disfigured side of his face for longer than necessary, but after he started glaring at them, most of the others averted their gazes. He was tired of everyone trying to figure out how a nephilim got permanent burn scars.
The master of Fairbanks, Derrick, shut the reception room doors after everyone cleared out. Bartol breathed a sigh of relief now that there were fewer people crowding around him. He’d come a long way for Cori’s sake these past weeks, but it wasn’t that much easier for him to be around others. He still had an urge to flash home rather than tolerate more scrutiny.
Melena held out a hand. “Can I see?”
Bartol clutched the frame. Until now, he’d been the only one privileged enough to see the painting. He may have stumbled upon the portrait without Cori’s permission, but he still felt a certain amount of protectiveness over her most personal possessions. He forced himself to relax his grip, knowing time was of the essence.
“Here,” he said, lifting it toward her outstretched hand. “Please take great care with it.”
“Of course.”
Melena took a knee and carefully unwrapped the brown paper from around the painting. Lucas, Micah, Emily, Tormod, and several others came closer as the portrait was revealed. Bartol’s chest tightened as his gaze fell upon it, and he remembered the story Cori told him about how her daughter died. He also recalled the images he’d seen in her mind when they’d mated. He’d seen a happy child who loved to sing and dance. Faith wrapped a spell around anyone who saw her, and she would have grown up to be an amazing woman.