by Larissa Ione
She ground her teeth at his bullshit soothing tone. Her ideas for the company were not about her medical issues. Her ideas were about helping people while getting away from the vampire trade. “But?”
Chuck braced his forearms on the desk and leaned closer to the screen, his expression a mask of concern. “But some Daedalus staff members think that’s why you ordered the deaths of those vampires. To sabotage the company.”
“What?” Her jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
“Come on, sis. Like it’s so ludicrous? You hate vampires.”
“And that’s reason enough to sabotage the company? You honestly believe I’d do that?”
“Of course not.” He jammed his fingers through his two-hundred-dollar haircut, leaving messy grooves. “I’m just telling you what people are saying.”
The intercom beeped, and the gate guard’s voice droned. “Mr. Altrough is here to see you.”
Dammit. “Let him in.” She was going to need more paper.
Chuck tapped his Montblanc on the notepad. He’d never been able to sit still. Not that she had any room to judge. She had a house and an office full of origami art that spoke volumes about her inability to relax.
“You finally giving Roland a chance?” he asked.
Still irritated by Chuck’s casual revelation that people inside the company believed her capable of such a despicable act, she snapped, “Not on your life. But he won’t take no for an answer.”
Nicole doubted that Roland Altrough, executive vice president in charge of Daedalus’s Lifeblood Supply division—one of the divisions she wanted gone—would ever back off his pursuit of her. At least, not while she was in charge of Daedalus. Maybe there really was a bright side to being ousted from the company.
“Then why are you seeing him tonight?”
“Because besides you, he’s the one person on my side in this mess.”
One pale eyebrow cocked up. “So you think that if you sleep with Roland, he’ll stay on your side?”
“I’m not sleeping with him. He’s a pig.” A handsome pig but a disgustingly misogynistic creature nonetheless.
Chuck grinned. “Smart girl.” Behind him, a shadow approached, and Nicole’s heart lurched. It was only Jonathan, Chuck’s longtime servant, but she always had the same reaction. Twenty years had passed since her attack, yet she still got jumpy at the sight of a vampire.
As Jonathan placed a glass of bourbon on the desk, Nicole held her breath. Chuck shifted at the same time as the vampire pulled his hand away, and the glass tipped, sloshing amber liquid onto the papers.
With a snarl, Chuck shoved himself out of his chair and backhanded Jonathan hard enough to send the defanged vampire reeling into the wall.
“You clumsy shit!” When Jonathan scrambled to clean up the mess, Chuck struck him again, and Nicole sat, stunned. Chuck had always had a temper, but she’d never seen him attack anyone like that. Then again, they’d lived oceans apart for two decades, so things could have changed . . . but this much? He’d always been kind to her family’s servants, especially Terese, whom he’d sometimes brought extra blood as a treat. “Get the hell out. You can forget your ration this week.”
The vampire’s silver eyes flashed, but whether it was with disappointment or anger, she couldn’t tell. After Jonathan slipped out of the room, Nicole found her voice.
“That was a little harsh, don’t you think?”
Chuck looked at her as if she’d grown another head. “He’s just a vampire.”
“It was just a spilled drink,” she shot back, still shocked by this side of her brother. How could this be the same person who had smuggled chocolates to Terese on her birthday? “Don’t you worry that you’re going to push him too far?”
“That’s ridiculous. What happened to you—to all of us—can’t happen again. We have better safeguards in place now.” Chuck graced her with a look dripping with syrupy sympathy, the kind reserved for people with a phobia everyone else thought was stupid. “It was a long time ago. You need to get over it.”
Get over it. He wasn’t the one who’d barely survived a brutal attack that killed almost everyone she loved and left her with a rare medical condition that would eventually kill her. Right now, the meds developed by Daedalus scientists were helping to control the disease ravaging her organs, but eventually, she’d grow resistant. Then she’d have a lot of misery to look forward to until she finally died in agony.
So, yeah, get over it wasn’t an option.
“Attacks on humans by their servants still happen,” she pointed out, although, granted, rebellion wasn’t that common. Microchip implants that could be activated by special remote wrist devices kept vampires in fear for their health and were much more effective than the old-style collars that only kept vampires from crossing barriers.
But if the Vampire Humane Society had anything to say about it, the new devices would soon be outlawed. Nicole shivered, once again wishing she was still in Paris, where groups like the VHS weren’t tolerated, and vampire slaves were an extravagance reserved only for the wealthiest of the wealthy.
“Don’t worry, Nikki. My servants wouldn’t dare lay a hand on me or my family.”
Nicole’s father had probably believed the same thing, until a vampire decapitated him and left his head mounted on a newel post only a few feet from where Nicole now stood.
You believed Terese would never harm you.
Nicole still believed that. The vampire had been like a big sister to Nicole, spending time with her when her mother couldn’t, teaching her things her tutors wouldn’t. Terese’s gentleness and the ring Nicole now wore on her right hand were what Nicole clung to when she needed to be reminded that not all vampires were monsters.
But then she remembered that Terese had died at the hands of another vampire. A vampire she’d trusted with all her heart. Nicole hadn’t seen much that day, but what she had seen—a blade at Terese’s throat, held there by her mate as Terese pleaded and cried—was seared into Nicole’s brain. Terese, so birdlike and fragile, was certainly no match for the much larger male whose growl had frightened Nicole so badly she’d wet herself.
The scene replayed itself over and over in Nicole’s nightmares. Sometimes in those dreams, Nicole tried to overpower Riker and save Terese. Sometimes Nicole managed to scream, something she hadn’t done in real life. But the end result was always the same. Terese would die, and usually, Riker killed Nicole, too.
With his teeth.
Swallowing against bloody nightmares and the too-vivid real-life memories, Nicole hovered her finger over the end button on the tele-screen. “I gotta go, Chuck. Roland is going to help me review my presentation to the board.”
Chuck nodded. “Don’t stay up too late. Get some rest. And for God’s sake, be on time tomorrow. You need every minute you can get if the board is going to rule at one o’clock sharp whether you’re there or not.”
As if she needed the reminder that the trajectory of her entire career was going to be determined one hour after lunch, when everyone on the board was full of food and liquor. Jesus. She was facing an absolute catastrophe. This wasn’t the job she would have chosen for herself, especially not after dedicating her life to becoming an expert in vampire physiology. But the inherited duty had been thrust upon her, and she’d always prided herself on being the best at whatever she did. Even if what she did wasn’t what she wanted to do.
Failing her parents’ company, especially after the tragedy that had killed them, would be devastating.
“Night, Chuck.” Nicole clicked off the comm unit and started toward the grand living room. She’d been here almost two months, but she still took the long route, avoiding the dining area where her mother had “passed away.”
Passed away. The words everyone but Nicole used for what happened sounded so . . . polite, when there’d been nothing polite about it. Elise Martin had had her throat brutally ripped out, but only after she had to endure unspeakable torture at the hands of her assailants.
The front door creaked open, and Nicole made a mental note to say something to Roland about letting himself in so casually. She’d let it go this long because he’d lived here as the caretaker for years while Nicole was in France, but now that she was back, he needed to learn to knock.
“I’ll be right there, Roland,” she called out.
“No, Nicole—” Roland’s strangled voice broke off, and a sudden lump of foreboding plummeted to her belly.
She rounded the corner, skidding to a shocked halt. The lump leaped into her throat, strangling her, cutting off her scream before it even started.
A black-haired male who was clearly a vampire—with gleaming metal fangs—was holding Roland against his chest, one massive arm wrapped around Roland’s neck. Roland’s eyes were wild, his struggles almost comically futile.
But that wasn’t what stopped her cold. No, what froze her all the way to her marrow was the monster standing beside him.
Funny how Boris wasn’t the monster who came alive in her scariest night terrors. No, the title of Nightmare King belonged to the male looming like a death sentence in front of her, a gorgeous sandy-haired vampire in worn, bloodstained jeans and a loaded weapons harness beneath a long leather coat. A male named Riker who, twenty years ago, had killed Terese.
His own mate.
The murder in his cool silver gaze said he was about to do the same to Nicole.
A cold rush of fear coursed through her, destroying two decades of therapy in a matter of heartbeats.
“Fucking animals,” Roland rasped. “Slavery is too good for your filthy kind.”
The dagger-fanged vampire grinned, and Nicole watched in horror as, with a jerk of his head and a spray of blood, the vampire ripped out Roland’s throat with his teeth.
Oh, dear Lord, please, no. Not again. A soundless cry escaped from her lips as she wheeled around. Terror made her clumsy, and she slammed her hip into a spindly Elizabethan table, sending a priceless Tang bowl filled with Nicole’s origami flowers crashing to the floor. She made it four steps before a heavy body hit her like a truck and sent her sprawling on the floor. The jarring impact expelled the air from her lungs in an agonizing burst.
“Don’t bite her!” The male voice boomed, and the vampire on top of her, his teeth shredding her turtleneck, cursed.
“Aw, come on, Riker.” The memory of being not bitten but chewed made Nicole tremble violently as fangs scraped across the scars Boris had left on her throat. “I wasn’t going to kill her. Just taste.”
“Not now.” Riker barked something that sounded like “She’s mine,” and the male on top of her cursed again.
“You got a reprieve, human.” Ginsu-Fang’s softly spoken words against the shell of her ear were more menacing at a whisper than if he’d snarled. “Temporary reprieve.”
With agonizing slowness, he pushed off her. Before she could even think about trying to run again, a hand clamped down on her wrist and yanked her to her feet. Nicole tried to wrench away, but with just one hand, Riker managed to hold her still.
“Give me the vampire named Neriya, and I’ll let you live.”
Neriya?
Riker swung his powerful body into hers and shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. “Did you hear me? Give me the female.”
Ginsu-Fang slipped silently to the window, but Nicole kept her attention on the vampire holding her tightly. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she croaked.
Riker’s silver eyes, which gave him away as a turned vampire instead of a rare born one, flashed like razor blades. “Daedalus captured her two weeks ago. I want her. Now.”
His voice, warped with rage, turned her insides to liquid. Despite what he’d said, there was no doubt he was going to kill her regardless. None at all.
But Nicole still had no idea what he was talking about. “I don’t know where she is.” Her voice was shaking as much as she was. “How do you even know Daedalus has her?”
“It doesn’t matter how we know.” His fury blistered the very air around them, and she braced for a blow. Instead, he growled, “Find her.”
“Find her?” she echoed. How was she supposed to do that? As far as she knew, all vampires brought in from the wild were tagged with new designations, so Neriya’s name wouldn’t be on file. Tracking her down was going to take time, which was something Nicole doubted she had much of.
“Yes,” he said slowly, as if she were a child. “Find her.”
“Why? Who is she? Your new mate? Are you going to kill her?” Nicole blurted before she could stop her runaway mouth. She had a terrible habit of saying dumb things when she was afraid or nervous.
Riker blinked as if taken aback, but he recovered quickly, his face shuttering. “Why the fuck would I want to rescue a vampire just to kill her? And why do you keep asking questions? I told you what to do. Do it.”
Bluff. “I’ll need to go to my office. I’ll have access to computer files there.”
“How stupid do you think we are? Your offices are crawling with security.” Riker squeezed her arm to that wire-fine line between mere discomfort and pain. “You’ll do it from here.”
Indignation at his order pierced her bubble of fear, and she squared her shoulders in defiance. “I don’t negotiate with vampires who break into my house and kill my friends.”
Riker smiled, the coldest smile she’d ever seen, which was saying something, since, as CEO of a multinational conglomerate, she swam with grinning sharks on a daily basis.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. This isn’t a negotiation. You cooperate or you die. It’s that simple.”
The other vampire appeared at Riker’s side. “If you’re going to torture her into giving us what we want, you might want to do it somewhere else. Our secret is out. Two armed males approaching from ten o’clock.”
“They won’t be alone,” Riker said.
Myne’s long fingers found the hilt of the dagger at his hip, and a deep, rumbling purr pumped from his chest, which was still wet with Roland’s blood. “Bring ’em on.”
He relishes this. What a bastard. And what the hell was up with his fangs?
“My fangs?” Ginsu asked, and she realized she’d spoken out loud. “What, do I have something in them? Yo, Rike. Do I have a piece of that Roland dude in my teeth?”
Abruptly, stupidly enraged, Nicole lunged, but Riker caught her before she could punch Ginsu in the mouth.
“Last chance, Nicole,” he warned. “Call off the guards, and make the calls, or you’re coming with us.”
As if her body suddenly remembered she was in grave danger, a fresh shudder of fear wracked her. Her options were limited, and the few she had sucked. If she went with Riker and Ginsu, she’d probably die. Then again, if she assured the guards that everything was okay, Riker and his steak-knife-toothed friend would likely kill her after she made the calls anyway.
So her choices came down to death . . . or death. That left her with choosing the timing, and maybe the method, of her demise. The vampires would kill her after she finished with the phone calls, but maybe if she went with them, she could use the travel time to plot a way to signal for help or find an opportunity to use the one weapon she had for an escape.
Riker’s eyes flared at the same time she tasted blood. Dammit, she was biting her lip again. In front of a vampire. Might as well ring the damned dinner bell.
“Human,” Riker snapped. “Call off the guards.”
“Go to hell,” she said, with a lot more calm than she felt. But if she was going to die, she was going to go down fighting the way she hadn’t been able to when she was a child.
“You first.” He gripped her chin roughly in his palm and held her face up so she was forced to look at him. And then . . .
Blackness.
FUCK.
Never before had Riker’s favorite four-letter word been so appropriate. Because fuck, they were fucked.
He caught Nicole as she slumped against him, a victim of his hypnotic ability.
Given how terrified she’d been, he’d expected her to capitulate to his demands and make things easy. But no, nothing could ever be that easy for him, could it?
“Man, I wish I had your hypno-talent,” Myne said as he moved swiftly to one of the windows. “Handy for feeding.”
Riker barked out a laugh. “You wouldn’t use it. You like your food to fight back.”
“Adrenaline adds a pleasantly piquant note to the blood,” Myne said in an obnoxious French accent, as if he were a food critic describing a tasty menu item at his favorite restaurant. “Also, six more dudes are approaching from the main gate.”
Myne wheeled around in a blur; his speed made a mockery of most vampires’ already enhanced movement. Being a born vampire instead of a turned one came with a shit-ton of perks.
“We can slip out the back. There’s a row of hedges that’ll keep us in the shadows.” Riker had often taken advantage of the area designed to conceal the gardeners’ equipment when he used to sneak onto the property to visit his mate.
Myne glowered at the woman in Riker’s arms. “I don’t like this. She’ll slow us down.” He paused, probably hearing the guards’ shouts outside. “Leave her. We can work over the other Martin.”
Bad idea. The minute word got out about Riker and Myne’s break-in, Charles Martin would ramp up security measures and take every precaution to avoid a similar incident. No, it was Nicole or nothing.
“We won’t be able to get close to the bastard.” Riker hefted Nicole more securely against his shoulder as Myne palmed two long blades from the sheaths on his back.
“Would have been a lot simpler if she’d cooperated,” Myne muttered, putting his spine to a wall to peer between the slats of a window blind.
Riker’d give Myne that one. Now they had to evade the authorities while hauling an unconscious human through the forest. Assuming they didn’t get hunted down and executed in front of TV cameras, that still left them having to take the human to the clan’s headquarters. Had everything gone as planned and Nicole cooperated, VAST would still have been sent after the vampires who broke into the Martin mansion, but kidnapping one of the most prominent people on the planet was going to launch them into a whole new level of manhunt.