Captured In Sin

by Devlin Chase

  All in all, the house passed muster very nicely and, as Darien pulled into the driveway and thumbed the remote, he was relieved to see no other cars on the street.

  ***

  Cat became aware that she was no longer in Darien’s car but was being carried lightly in a pair of strong arms, her cheek pressed against a warm shoulder.

  She wanted to lift her head and see where she was, but she didn’t have the strength to do more than open her eyes a crack. She saw a wide entranceway leading to a short flight of steps and the widest pair of solid doors she’d ever seen.

  Then she was drifting away again as she was carried into a vestibule, the doors closing behind her as a pneumatic hiss reverberated in the small chamber and another solid door opened ahead. Her eyes had closed and she dropped her head against the shoulder of the man who carried her as gently as if she were a child. The faint hint of cinnamon rose from his skin and she knew it was Darien, her lips opening on a sigh as she leaned into his shoulder.

  She was dimly aware of raised voices around her. Somebody was clearly not happy and she frowned as she tucked her head into Darien’s shoulder, feeling his chest rise and fall as a rumble echoed through him.

  Now he’s arguing with whoever’s shouting, she thought as she felt his heartbeat speed up under the hand she had splayed across his chest.

  But the shouting mercifully abated as she felt herself carried down a flight of stairs and along a passageway. Then a door opened and a moment later she was laid down on a bed, the sheets soothing and silky soft.

  Cat turned onto her side, pulling her legs up to her chest, feeling a duvet being tucked around her. Then darkness called once more and, as she finally sank into oblivion, she was sure she felt the lightest of kisses graze her temple.

  ***

  Darien sat in the corner of his bedroom, watching Cat sleep. There was no light in the room, but it was unnecessary, his eyes preternaturally accustomed to seeing in the dark without any trouble. He could see that Cat looked peaceful. He’d pulled the flipflops from her feet so she would be more comfortable, but he was concerned that she might find her clothing constricting and he’d considered getting her naked under the covers.

  But who was he kidding? While it was true that he wanted her to be comfortable, what he really wanted to do was to strip off that tiny cropped tee, exposing her breasts inch by glorious inch. He wanted to slide his fingers through the midnight hair that framed her face, wanted to watch as her nipples stiffened into hard peaks, taking the first into his mouth as he gently rubbed the other under his thumb.

  Groaning against the now familiar feel of his erection as it strained against the zipper of his jeans, he climbed to his feet and began pacing around the room, careful not to wake the woman who slept in his bed.

  The shitstorm had hit the moment he’d entered through the door and Conrad and Brent, who had been eating in the dining room, had stormed into the entrance hall, smelling the human the instant she’d been brought inside.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You can’t bring her here!” Con had been furious, his hands fisted at his side, his eyes blazing.

  “And where do you propose I take her? Back to her apartment? Jacen almost killed her tonight.” Darien had shouldered his way past Con, ignoring the glare that followed him, drilling a hole into his spine.

  Brent, for all of his being the calm and laid back one, had been hardly more sympathetic. “Jeez, D, take her anywhere else, man.”

  A hint of desperation tinged his American accent and, for a second, Darien wondered whether he’d misjudged his friends; perhaps this house was the most dangerous place he could have brought Cat to.

  As bored as they might have been for months, they were all wide awake and alert now that there was a human in the house. Humans represented food. While he was sure that none of his team would harm a human intentionally, and especially not Catherine or her brother Frankie, it was still dangerous having her in the house. Just one wrong move and their usual control could be gone, protective instincts morphing into raging hunger in a heartbeat.

  But she was here now and he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight again.

  “Leaving her at her apartment was not an option. It’s gonna be morning soon and she’d be all alone…”

  “Yeah, and Jacen’s just as fucked when it comes to that as we are,” Con interrupted as he slammed one huge fist into the dining room door frame, “so she would have been fine.”

  Darien’s temper had finally hit its stride and he rounded on Conrad, his lips pulled back on a hiss, fangs bared.

  “Why the fuck would you say she’d be fine? We have Wakelings who can walk the day for us.” His voice was harsh, edged with something that sounded like fear even to his own ears. “What if Jacen has a Wakeling? Someone who could take her to him even in the middle of the day?”

  Con had said nothing in response but he shook his head menacingly, clearly still unhappy at the thought of a human in the house.

  Darien was at the top of the stairs which led to the lower sleeping chambers, still cradling Cat in his arms, when the door slammed behind him and Marabella strode across the hall, her heels like gunfire on the tiles.

  “This is a bad fucking idea, Darien.”

  She tossed Cat’s purse and jacket onto a chair before slipping past them and heading down the stairs.

  She’d reached the bottom step as Darien called out to her, thanking her for what she had done earlier at the club.

  “Whatever.” She raised her hand in a dismissive gesture, a sneer on her beautiful face. Then she was gone, the slamming of her bedroom door a clear indication of how she felt about the night’s outcome.

  Now, as he paced around the room, trying to curb his desire to slip under the covers with Catherine, he could hear the dull pounding of heavy music coming from one of the rooms further down the passage. Con was in the gym, probably working off his anger.

  He knew the male had good cause to not want her here. It was dangerous for humans to be secluded with their kind, especially during daylight hours, when their forced isolation made them aggressive and more prone to venting their frustrations; which for a human caught in the wrong place at the wrong time could prove deadly.

  No, Con was right to be angry. He’d put all of them in a dangerous position. But where else was he supposed to have taken her? He couldn’t have stayed with her at her apartment as the sun came up anyway and Jacen could very well have Wakelings working for him.

  He’d had to bring her here. The house offered protection from any attack that Jacen could have mounted. The building was fortified and the security system so state of the art that it could probably have detected ants crossing the kitchen floor.

  Footsteps passed his door, the heavy footfalls sounding as weary as he felt. Angelo was home so daylight had to be only an hour away at most.

  Running a hand through his hair Darien realized that he was exhausted; more than he should have been despite the encounter with Jacen. He was going to have to feed tonight; although he loathed the thought of leaving Cat here alone.

  But he would have to slake his hunger if he was going to be of any use to her in the days to come, so he left his room after one last look at the woman’s sleeping form. She looked so small and fragile, curled up under the covers in the huge bed, her jet black hair streaming around her. He considered staying; but what good would he be if he had no reserves to call upon when they were needed the most?

  He stepped out of the house, vanishing the moment he exited the front door, and rematerializing in a dark alley alongside the club. Just an hour till dawn and Nylon was slowing down, people wandering off down the street alone or in pairs, their scanty clothing offering little protection from the chill in the air.

  But there were still enough people inside for Darien to go unnoticed as he reentered the club.

  He kept his eyes open for Jacen as he made his way from one dance floor to the next, seeking out an appropriate victim. There was
no sign of his former friend although he kept himself tuned to the temperature levels, knowing that a sudden drop in the ambient temperature and pressure usually indicated the presence of his kind. But he and Jacen had worked together so many times before that he would have felt the mental bond with the vampire, temperature changes or not.

  He found the woman leaning back in one of the booths alongside the Goth dance floor, her head lolling to one side as she watched the few dancers who writhed to the slow beat. She was dressed in black like all the other patrons and her slicked back short hair revealed her neck openly. A half empty glass and an overflowing ashtray stood on the table before her. Her eyes were only half open, although her lids fluttered up as Darien slid into the booth, moving along the vinyl until he was pressed up alongside her. He allowed a quick flicker of glamour to engulf her, watching as a flush of heat rose to warm her skin.

  Her eyes widened as she took in his sexy smile and blue eyes; a smile revealing the pink tongue she used to lick at her lips. For a second Darien wondered who the hunter was as she stared at him with open interest.

  “Hi.” He smiled again as he leaned in close.

  “Hi back.” The pink tongue was out again, this time lingering on her lower lip. Her heavy make-up was smudged, creating rings under her eyes and, while she might have looked quite striking at the beginning of the evening, she was looking the worse for wear now. None of this concerned him as he moved closer still, pressing her further into the darkest recesses of the booth.

  He reached out one hand, laying it gently alongside her neck, tilting her head. He could feel the pulse of her vein, strong against his fingers. A tremble ran through the slender body and he felt her heartbeat quicken as her eyelids lowered. His glamour enveloped her, calming any lingering tension she might have felt at his presence or the way he was crowding her into the farthest corner of the booth.

  “Be calm,” he breathed as he closed the distance between them. Instantly her heartbeat resumed its normal rhythm, her eyelids fluttering down once more. His scent soothed her and she sighed, arching her head to one side and exposing more of her throat as if knowing what he wanted from her.

  He could already feel the ache building in his upper jaw as his fangs began extending. As painful as it was to extend them fully it was an exquisite torture, feeling them slide into his mouth. He ran his tongue over one of the points, feeling the itchy scrape as it made contact.

  The thrill of hunting had left him centuries ago; replaced by the perfunctory need to feed. Finding a willing donor had become so much easier over the years as socially acceptable sexual behavior had opened the door to people more than agreeable to allowing a stranger to suck at their neck.

  Darien had long since come to the conclusion that his feeding was nothing more than a physical need that had to be met, despite the heady rush he always felt at that first bite; the sweet blood gushing into his mouth.

  But his greed at feeding had also filled him with disgust. While their kind had always preyed on humans to simply fill a need, taking only what they required to sustain themselves, he had often gone too far; sometimes only releasing the donor when he was sated to the point of lethargy.

  After one too many close calls he’d made a decision to only feed when he reached the point of exhaustion that normal food could no longer sustain him. It had been a difficult choice to make and, while many of their kind had adapted to a life requiring very little blood, he battled with his decision on an almost daily basis.

  He’d even secluded himself, as some had done before him, and attempted to channel his bloodlust into another form of vampiric feeding. It had been a long and arduous process but he’d eventually achieved his goal; turning his need for blood into an frenzied molecular state that could draw energy from his donor as easily as he could bite and taste blood.

  It had suited him well until this new assignment; he’d roamed the streets of Brazil at night, drawing energy from the people around him easily, feeling a near-constant sense of satiation and wellness.

  As soon as he’d first set eyes on Catherine, however, he’d known that it wasn’t going to be enough. The familiar bloodlust had ripped through him like a hurricane, shattering the walls he’d erected against his own insatiable greed. The cravings were the only reason he’d not come to her sooner; he’d needed to gain control over his urges before he could meet with her for the first time; so terrified that he’d be the one to bring her physical harm.

  But feeding was instinctual to him and he slid his hand along the woman’s neck, exposing the vein further. Hitting her with another burst of glamour he calmed her entirely before he struck, his fangs puncturing her skin at just the right point to reach the vein.

  He felt her stiffen underneath him as her blood filled his mouth, making him dizzy from her sweetness. Cinnamon filled the air as she eased again, her body limp in his arms.

  Bloodlust threatened to overwhelm him as he started a mental count, forcing himself to draw her blood slower. It also kept his mind clearer and he was able to retract his fangs before he caused the woman any serious harm.

  Releasing her slowly he licked the wounds closed and positioned her so that she leaned comfortably against the padded backrest of the booth. He drew away, smiling slightly as she moaned and reached for him. He placed his hand on her arm, running his fingers along her skin to soothe her until her eyes closed and she rested peacefully.

  Then he sat alongside her as he waited for the painful retraction to set in, the sliding back of his fangs into his upper jaw always uncomfortable at best.

  Finally the pain eased and he slid from the booth as inconspicuously as he’d arrived. The woman would have no memory of him, his scent had ensured that; but just to be sure, he reached out mentally, and wiped all her memories of the past hour. When she woke a few minutes from now she would assume she’d had too much to drink and passed out. The wounds at her neck wouldn’t hurt and she might only notice them when they were already nothing more than dull bruises.

  Without a backward glance Darien left the club, striding purposefully into the alleyway before vanishing into the darkness.

  ***

  Cat woke into near darkness and stretched before rolling over onto her other side.

  She was struck by two separate thoughts instantaneously. One was that the bedding was too soft and luxurious to be hers and the second was that she wasn’t alone in the bed that was not hers either.

  She bolted awake and was about to jerk backward when strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her from scrambling out of the bed.

  “Catherine.”

  Darien’s voice whispered out to her, his tone calm and soothing. But it brought her no comfort as she struggled against his hard body, relaxing only when she realized that the duvet was still wrapped around her, separating them.

  She lay as stiff as a board until his arms relaxed and he released her.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She took a ragged breath, hearing the sincerity in his voice, before she relaxed enough to be able to move, turning toward the sound of his voice.

  In the meager light that came from a lamp somewhere across the room she could see that he was fully dressed and lying on top of the duvet. He’d obviously showered recently, his hair damp, and she could smell the clean scent of soap on his skin, mingling with the tantalizing hint of cinnamon.

  What was the deal with smell of these guys? Cinnamon? Spicy oranges? It was like a damn buffet being around them.

  “Where am I?” Her eyes were wide as she turned them up to meet his. Dear God, his eyes were glowing faintly even in the poor light and a shiver ran through her despite her fear.

  He smiled gently. “You’re at my home. I didn’t think it was safe for you to stay in your apartment.”

  She was mulling over his words when the truth of what he was saying slammed into her and the events of the previous evening returned, careening through her head like a whirlwind.

  With a cry she tried to bolt uprig
ht but his arms encircled her again, holding her against his chest as she struggled furiously.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she moaned against his shirt and he loosened his grip, concern in his eyes as his face swam into view.

  “Do you need the bathroom?”

  Cat just rolled away from him, curling into a ball as waves of nausea rolled over her.

  “Breathe, sweetheart.”

  She could hear his voice as if from a mile away and felt his hand rubbing her back through the duvet. But it was the endearment he’d used that had her breath hitching in her throat.

  Eventually the urge to throw up passed and she was wracked by the shakes, her teeth chattering as she shivered. Darien pulled her close, tucking his body behind hers and holding her until the tremors passed.

  When she felt strong enough she pulled away from him and sat up in the bed. Her t-shirt was damp with perspiration, sticking to her skin and she wanted nothing more than to tear it off. But she was wary of the amused gleam in his eyes and painfully aware of the fact that she was in his bed. So she pulled the duvet up to her chest instead.

  “He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?”

  Darien was sitting up and watching her, his eyes calm again as he nodded.

  Cat shuddered, pulling the duvet tighter. She looked so pale and fragile that he wanted to pull her back into his arms and tell her that Jacen would never harm her again. But he couldn’t make that promise and he knew it.

  “Why?”

  He sighed. Jacen had forced his hand by attacking Catherine; now, more than ever, she deserved the truth. “We’re not exactly sure why Jacen wants to kill you, but I think it has to do with the Ligata.”

  Curiosity flickered in Cat’s eyes and it pleased him. She was losing that wild-eyed look and color was returning to her cheeks.

  “What’s the ligata?”

  Darien smiled ruefully. How did one explain the Ligata? Their very existence defined his own; had since the dawn of their creation.