He entered the living room to find a tall, thin man with impossibly pale features sitting in the single beam of sunlight streaming in from the windows. Zane froze at the familiar blue eyes and dark hair, that cruel smile twisting the thin face.
“Eldric.”
“Hello, Zane.” Eldric glanced to Zane’s mother, who sat in a reclining armchair next to him. “He came quite quickly, didn’t he? I must say, I’m quite impressed.”
Typhoon was meant to have found out how vampires managed to walk around in broad daylight. Zane bit back a snarl as nausea started to creep up his throat. The whole daylight thing was one of the huge reasons why vampires didn’t rule the world. If they weren’t limited to the darkness of night, it became nearly impossible to tell them from a human. The scent was a giveaway, but scents could be faked easily enough.
There had been a new treaty written up between the two factions, but Eldric was never part of a vampire kingdom. He ran by his own rules—and those rules were that he did whatever he wanted.
“Ma, are you okay?” Zane inched closer to her. She was pale and shaking, but appeared unhurt.
Eldric chuckled as he picked up a teacup—part of Zane’s mother’s collection, that had belonged to her great-grandmother—and sipped at whatever brew was inside of it. Zane approached, still moving slowly. His wolf clawed at his chest, howling to be released, but to fight in his home? Against Eldric? The vampire played long games. He wouldn’t be here unless he was absolutely certain he’d be able to get out again.
“What do you want, bloodsucker?”
Eldric clicked his tongue. “Is that any way to speak to an old friend?”
Zane snarled.
“Hmph. Well, if you’re going to be like that.” Eldric set his tea down. “I just wanted to let you know what my plans were, Zane my boy.”
His mother flinched, and Zane started to move to put himself between her and Eldric. Before he could, though, Eldric had moved. Almost faster than Zane could see, he leapt across the table and seized his mother around the throat. Zane froze as his mother gave a short cry.
“I’m taking your mother, boy,” Eldric continued, smiling horribly at him. “And I want thirty-thousand dollars by the end of the month… If I don’t get what I want, Ma is going to end up on display next to dear dead Daddy.”
Zane snarled and started forward, but another cry from his mother stopped him. He ground his teeth together, tense with fury and worry. There was no way to break Eldric’s grip without hurting his mother. Hatred welled in him, so hard that his wolf howled with it. He forced himself to go back a step and Eldric’s grip on his mother loosened.
“Why a month?” Zane growled. “That’s an awfully long time.”
Was this just a game? A way to torture him? Eldric had always had a peculiar fascination with Zane. He’d stopped the vampires who killed his father from killing him and had haunted him ever since. Never asking for repayment of the debt; always showing up when least expected and making Zane’s life a living hell.
Eldric grinned at him. “Not when you take in recovery time, my boy. I want another little taste.”
Zane bit back another snarl. So that was it? He just wanted to drink Zane’s blood? No. It was more than that. Perhaps he was genuine, wanting the money.
“Well? Roll up your sleeve unless you want Ma to sate my thirst.”
“No!” Zane bit back the panic that threatened to consume him. He moved forward slowly, fighting the instinct to attack, and rolled up his sleeve. His lips curled back, but he kept his eyes on his mother, trying to reassure her without words as Eldric sank his teeth into his wrist.
Fiery pain shot through him. Zane bit back a cry of pain as Eldric started slurping greedily. His legs weakened, and he locked his knees, determined not to fall. His head started to spin. A sudden blow caught him on the chin and he fell back, hitting the floor hard.
“Shame I never got a taste of your brother.” Eldric licked his lips. “It must have been terrible for him… dying for loving another man. End of the month, Zane, or you lose the rest of your family.”
Eldric propelled his mother forward. Zane reached for his ankle, seeing an opportunity; Eldric kicked him in the face and everything spun around him. When his vision settled again, they were gone.
Chapter Five
Melanie
What was going on? Melanie pressed her ear to the door. She thought she had heard voices, but now everything outside her prison was utterly quiet. She huffed, folding her arms as she stomped back to the TV. The damn thing was broken, and she couldn’t figure out how to fix it. If Zane was going to keep her prisoner, the least he could do was give her some decent entertainment.
The door lock clicked, but Melanie didn’t bother to attempt an escape. She looked over, ready to zing him with the perfect insult that she’d been working on—only to jump to her feet with a cry. Zane collapsed into the room. His tanned skin was almost white, bloody foam frothed at his mouth and his eyes were wide, taking on a yellow hue.
She had seen this before. In her friend who have overdosed and nearly died from it. Melanie pressed her hands to her mouth, shocked and frozen for a long moment. Zane pushed himself to his hands and knees and started to crawl toward her.
“Stay back,” she warned, looking around for something to defend herself with. “I should have known that you’d be into drugs!”
Zane wiped his mouth, flinging the bits of foam away. “Not drugs. I need your help.”
Though he panted, and his voice was weak, he still spoke clearly. Melanie stared at him, noting the trembles in his arms. Her stomach squeezed as she fought her natural inclination to help others. He was clearly on drugs, and he was a gangster. He was dangerous!
But when he groaned, his head falling forward, she couldn’t help herself. She rushed forward to him, catching him before he slumped to the floor. His head knocked against her shoulder and his weight knocked her back, flat on the floor. He collapsed over her. With a soft moan, he turned his head and licked at her neck, making her squirm—she firmly told herself she did not like it, even as her cat bounced in her chest.
Zane laughed and put a hand on her chest, between her breasts. “I can feel her purring.”
He snatched his hand back suddenly as if he had been burned and rolled off her. “Sorry.”
“I—” Melanie cut herself off, not knowing how to respond to that.
“You need to suck it out. He drank, but then he bit me again.”
“What are you—” Melanie’s eyes widened as he offered his arm to her. There, one on the wrist and one near the elbow, were two half-moon bite marks. Two holes sunk in at the canines, but the bruising from the other teeth was clear. The one at the wrist was clean enough, but the elbow had green pus oozing from it, hardened into a crust around the edges.
“Suck it out,” Zane ordered again. “Or I’ll kill you.”
He didn’t seem to be in any state for killing, but there was something in his voice that made Melanie fully believe that he could do as he threatened. She adjusted herself, so that she had better access to the festering wound. His blood tasted like something dead. It made her gag as she started to suck out whatever that green stuff was. She spat out the mouthful as quickly as she could.
She repeated the process several times before the blood started to taste normal. Zane was limp at this time, and Melanie scrubbed off her tongue, feeling like she might throw up. What had he done to himself?
“Zane?” she shook him as his head lolled. Was he dead? Her heart started to pound.
His eyes snapped open. When they fixed on her, his pupils widened. His arms shot out, wrapping around her waist. Before she could even yelp, he’d pulled her down over him, staining her clothes with his blood, and kissed her—hard, deep and passionate. Melanie made a noise, mingled surprise and protest, and he released her.
“God,” he breathed, one hand still tight on her wrist as he stared earnestly into her face. “You are gorgeous. Beautiful. Sublime. It’s
been so long since I’ve wanted a woman like I want you.”
This time he tugged her down gently, slowly. His kiss wasn’t as demanding but no less passionate as he cupped her face in his hands and nibbled at her lower lip. To her surprise, Melanie felt herself responding. Heat swirled in her core, her cat purred, and she leaned onto Zane’s muscular chest, her hands playing over his taut skin.
What am I doing? I haven’t saved myself for years to throw it away on a gangster! Not to mention he’s high and unable to give real consent right now.
Melanie jerked away from him, panting as she broke the kiss.
Zane stared at her, moving up to caress her back then falling back with a groan. His eyes closed once more, and he shook his head hard. “No.”
Her lips tingled with the after effects of the kiss. Her cat mewled angrily, clawing at her chest to get more. All her muscles trembled, heat pooling in her core.
“I’m sorry.” Zane’s words were soft and genuine. “I need you to call Hurricane.”
Another member of the gang? Melanie pressed her hands over his bleeding wounds. Shifters healed fast, but it was still shooting out gushes. It must be an artery. And he’d had her suck out… whatever had been in there. Her head started to spin.
She was jerked out of her thoughts when Zane snarled. His eyes were growing black and the foam at his mouth increased. A clawed hand lashed out, freezing inches from her face. Melanie flinched, throwing herself backward. Zane flipped over to his hands and feet. Fur started to layer his body and a low, deep growl emitted from his throat.
“Get out,” he snarled.
Melanie could hardly understand him behind his enlarging teeth. She backed away, her heart in her throat. All her instincts told her that running would only incite an attack.
“Call—” Zane convulsed, then looked up again. His eyes were utterly black, with a red rim around the edges. In a flash, he had changed into his wolf—huge, pitch-black. His fur stood on end, his whole body puffed up. With those red eyes, he looked like a hellhound.
He lunged.
Melanie stumbled back and slammed the door. It shook when he rammed into it. It held, though; there was a slight creaking, but that was it. She quickly locked it and raced upstairs, her heart in her throat. Who the hell was Hurricane?
When she emerged onto the first floor, she found it utterly empty except for a puddle of blood soaking into the carpet.
Melanie slapped her hands over her mouth, despite the blood still on them, to muffle her scream. Had he killed his mother? She recalled the wild, almost rabid look in his eyes. In that state of mind, hopped up on whatever he had taken, she wouldn’t put it past him.
But no. The trail of blood led to the basement. This was his blood—there was no sign of Felicia, though. Had she gone out? Melanie noted a tea set on the coffee table, but even as she went to check if it was warm, a howl came from downstairs. It was the most inhuman and terrifying sound she had ever heard.
Hurricane.
She looked around wildly and found his phone on the floor next to the puddle of blood. More blood was smeared over it; it was open to a contact. Why hadn’t he called this Hurricane himself?
Another howl. Had he simply run out of time?
Melanie shook her head, pushing that thought away, along with the crash of questions and rush of fear. It didn’t matter if she didn’t know exactly what was going on; Zane needed her, and she would help him in any way that she could. She wiped the blood off the phone’s screen and tapped the call button.
***
The basement door was beginning to creak with Zane’s repeated impacts by the time the front door flew open. A man charged in, eyes flashing as they landed on her. He wasn’t as tall as Zane, but his muscular frame was a good few inches broader. Hurricane—there was no one else it could be—jerked his chin up. Melanie scrambled out of his way and crouched at the top of the stairs.
Hurricane unlocked the door. Melanie bit back a protest as the door swung open. Zane’s black wolf lunged out, but Hurricane was quicker. Melanie didn’t even see what he did, but in seconds he had pinned Zane to the floor, an arm around his throat while his big body bore down on him. He spoke rapidly and quietly, his tone soothing. Zane thrashed for a few more minutes before he went limp. His eyes closed, he let out a pained whimper, and he slowly melted back into his human form.
“There you go,” Hurricane murmured. “You’re okay. What do you need, Thunder? I brought Roxy if you need sex.”
Roxy? Sex? Melanie let out a hiss, bringing the attention of the men below up to her. Hurricane narrowed his eyes, but Zane actually smiled. The red in his eyes was lessening, but there was still a dark look in them—lust, she realized. Melanie’s nostrils flared as she looked away. Her cat snarled, sharpening its claws in preparation to rip out Roxy’s eyes.
Which was ridiculous. Because there was certainly no reason for her to feel jealous of anybody.
“Roxy...” Zane murmured.
Melanie sprang to her feet and stomped into the living room. She stopped dead when she saw the woman there, sprinkling some sort of white powder into the blood puddle. It sucked up the blood eagerly, and Melanie had to turn her face away. She looked back, though, and studied the woman. This had to be Roxy. She was taller than Melanie, almost as tall as Hurricane. She wore a sleek red silk blouse and a pair of tight black slacks. Her hair was done up in a simple bun, but there was a sense of elegance around the woman that made Melanie feel a bit like a potato.
“So, you’re Roxy?” Great. Her jealousy was bleeding through her words, plain as day. Melanie chewed on her lip.
Roxy gave her an unimpressed look. “What’s it to you?”
Melanie shrugged. “Just curious.”
Roxy returned to her work. “And who are you? If I knew Zane had a girl here already I wouldn’t have come. I don’t mind helping out when needed, but I don’t like doing it rabid.”
“Doing… rabid?”
“Well, yeah… Oh.” Roxy’s eyes widened as though just realizing something. A smirk wheedled its way over her face. “I see...”
“See what?” Melanie waited, but no explanation came forth.
“Roxy.” Hurricane called from behind them.
Melanie whirled to see Hurricane coming up the stairs, half-carrying Zane, who was wrapped in a blanket. His skin looked awfully pale, sweat beading his face. His eyes weren’t red anymore, though, and the foam at his mouth was gone. She opened her mouth to ask how she could help, but closed it again quickly.
“You need me?” Roxy started to undo her blouse.
“What the hell are you doing? He needs to go to a hospital!” Melanie snarled at Roxy, making the other woman stare at her. “He’s overdosed and—”
Zane spoke, his voice stronger than it had been. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are,” Hurricane growled. He glared at Zane, but looked worried nonetheless. “He’s being stubborn, Roxy. Insists on riding it out without help.”
Roxy nodded and buttoned her blouse again. Melanie glared at her still, a little angry those magnificent curves the other woman had appeared to be all natural. She’d make a killing at the Chubby Kitty and she wasn’t even that chubby.
“He needs—” Melanie started again, turning toward the men. She cut off as she saw Zane’s gaze rake over her. His desire was written all over his face, taking her breath away. So, he did want… but then, why wasn’t he taking up Roxy’s offer?
He can’t want me over her!
“No hospital,” he said low, but every word rang with authority.
Melanie shook her hormone-induced speechlessness off and put her hands on her hips. “You need something! If you won’t go to a hospital… what about morphine?”
Zane arched a brow but nodded.
Was she really doing this? Melanie held her breath for a moment before letting it out slowly. She nodded, determination overriding her good sense. She still had her father’s last prescription for morphine on her phone… It might take cal
ling the doctor, but she could get it filled here, right? She would just have to tell the doctor that she’d lost the prescription or that the house had been broken into and their stock stolen.
She headed for the door, but Hurricane grabbed her arm, giving out a strangled protest. “You can’t just let prisoners—”
“I trust her,” Zane groaned.
Melanie’s jaw dropped. She wanted to demand what in all that was holy had convinced him of that, but there wasn’t time. She nodded at him and darted for the bathroom, where she scrubbed the blood off her hands before racing out of the house. She was halfway down the driveway when Roxy caught up and gestured to a sleek, sporty BMW. Melanie glared at her for a moment, but went to it.
To her immense displeasure, it was the most comfortable car she had ever sat in.
Roxy didn’t talk as she drove to the pharmacy. Melanie wished she would. Her disdain for this woman who was far prettier than her and apparently far richer wasn’t strong enough to withstand the buffeting of the worries that seeped into her mind. She could take off right now. Go home to her father—was he okay? —but if she did that, would she ever find out what happened to Felicia?
Melanie pressed her palms into her eyes. She could almost smell Zane’s blood still on her hands. And that more than anything stopped her from trying to fight off Roxy and escape.
Zane needed her. If she could help him, then she would… He loved his mother, and she had to help in every way she could to make sure he could get her back.
***
Hurricane lived in an honest-to-God mansion. The place was so immense, it probably could have housed all of Coalfell. Well, probably not that big, but it certainly felt like it to Melanie. Not that she spared much thought to the mansion since she first saw it.
Her hands and mind were busy watching after Zane. Hurricane had helped him into the house, put him in a metal-framed bed bolted to the floor, and promptly strapped him down with several leather bands. Melanie had almost protested, but remembered the senseless look in his eyes as he lunged at her in the house and didn’t say a thing.
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