Dark and Damaged: Eight Tortured Heroes of Paranormal Romance: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Colleen Gleason

  But why hadn’t the holy water deterred him from drinking? Not enough time for it to get into her bloodstream?

  She fought to clear the weakness as she slipped free the other stake she’d secreted in a hidden pocket of her sleeve.

  First order of business: she positioned the stake over Alexander’s heart before he realized what she was doing, resting it firmly on his chest. Then she reached for his leather-covered arm. “I want to see what’s under here, Alexander. What you’ve been trying to hide for years. One false move and I send you to hell. That would make your hard-won immortality laughably short-lived.”

  She spoke confidently, though she knew it wouldn’t take much for Alexander to overpower her—weak from loss of blood as she was, not to mention the after effects of being fed upon and his superhuman strength—so she intended to be very careful. The man liked her; if she played her cards right, she might be able to keep fooling him for a little longer.

  Alexander growled and shifted warningly, and she drilled the stake into his shirt a little harder as she worked quickly to yank off the gauntlet. This was the single most important thing she had to accomplish here at Crenshaw.

  The echo of a second gunshot sent an unpleasant chill up her spine. What was going on?

  “I knew that’s why you were here,” Alexander said with an unflattering triumph in his tones. His attention had wandered back to the trickles of blood on her throat and his eyes were fixed there, glowing bright red. His fangs had erupted again. Clearly, he was recovering from the shock of the sight of three crosses.

  Savina ignored him, for at last she’d succeeded in pulling away the leather wristband. She flung it off into the darkness and seized his arm…and then she stared, stunned, at the smooth, unmarked skin of his hand and underside of his wrist.

  “It can’t be,” she whispered, a rush of heat and nausea taking her by surprise as she turned over his hand to examine the top of it. “Impossible.” Confusion and horror paralyzed her.

  For, in the glow of the lantern, she could see the brand on the back of Alexander’s arm, just above the wrist: the image of a scrawny, wiry, feral dog. An ugly tattoo, one that was horrifying in its significance. One that marked him as repulsive and repugnant…

  But what it wasn’t was the scarred, burned tissue she’d anticipated. It wasn’t the proof that Alexander, and not her father, had taken Hannever’s Chest.

  It wasn’t what she’d expected, what she’d believed and planned for. What had kept her motivated all these years.

  Alexander took advantage of her confusion and tossed a blanket over the front of her, covering the crosses. In the same instant, he shoved away her stake.

  “Oh, but it is, my darling. It is the mark of the Tutela. I’ve worn it proudly for years—though of necessity I was required to keep it obscured—and now I want you to do the same.”

  He took her by the arm and drew her closer. His eyes glittered lustfully and glowed with the red of the undead as he stroked her cheek tenderly. “I’ve long known you wanted to join us, Sabrina. You have a way about you—intriguing and intelligent—and there is an underlying sense of power as well. No, of course I am not intimidated by a strong woman. After all, I have answered to Rastingard for years.”

  Savina was still scrambling to make sense of everything that was happening, while at the same time aware of the blood still trickling from her wounds and the fact that she had lost her advantage over Alexander. She made a neutral sound that was designed to encourage him to prattle on while she tried to marshal her thoughts. At least he doesn’t know who I really am. I can play along.

  “…and our paths continued to cross so often, I was certain it wasn’t random happenstance. We are fated to be together, my darling.” Alexander took her arm and lifted it to his mouth, where the sharp points of his fangs now protruded from beneath his lascivious smile. “The final sign was your timely arrival here at Crenshaw. Just in time to be introduced to Rastingard. I’ll be your sponsor, Sabrina. And you can be my concubine.”

  Before she could pull away, he sank his fangs into the delicate skin of her wrist.

  Savina jolted even less this time, for her thoughts and body had begun to turn murky and foggy. How could this be? The trees looming over their picnic spot seemed to tilt and then they began to spin as the blood was drawn from her wrist, oozed from her neck. Still stunned, heartbroken, and now growing more weak and disoriented, she sagged against Alexander.

  She was panting and her eyes heavy-lidded when he withdrew, licking his lips to taste that last bit of her blood. “You enjoy being fed upon…I can see it in your eyes, my love. But, I promise you, there is even more pleasure that awaits us both.”

  Savina had no strength to resist as he gathered her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.

  CHAPTER 14

  ~ Determination ~

  As Savina awoke, before she even opened her eyes, she made herself take note of her surroundings. Something soft billowing beneath her, excitedly chirping birds, an unfamiliar scent, and low, throbbing pain.

  After waiting there, waiting and listening, she felt certain she was alone. Nevertheless, she was prudent enough to open her eyes slowly, in bare slits first in order to take stock of her environment before anyone watching might notice.

  She was in an unfamiliar room. On a bed. That smelled like, she realized with a start, Alexander Purcell’s cologne or pomade or whatever it was he put on his skin. His chamber.

  Savina felt hot, then cold, then very queasy. Not to mention achy and light-headed. What happened?

  The last thing she remembered was Alexander’s promise of more pleasure…then a wild, dark time of kissing and him touching her in places she preferred he didn’t, and more feeding—on the other side of her neck this time…and then Alexander released her suddenly.

  He had been talking to someone…someone had interrupted them, thank God.

  And now, this. Here. She was here in what was surely his room.

  She sat up, and immediately felt even more weak and dizzy—but she was relieved to discover she was fully clothed, if not bloodstained and rumpled. The silver crosses were missing from her corset, and her frock gapped open, slipping off one bloodstained shoulder and sagging nearly to her elbow.

  Savina climbed gingerly off the bed, still listening for the sounds of anyone approaching, and carefully made her way to the door. The curtains were drawn tight, and the room was dark she nearly tripped over a pair of shoes on her way. She listened at the door for a good minute and checked for a shadow beneath it before slowly turning the knob.

  But it didn’t turn.

  Damn. Savina went cold. She’d been afraid of that.

  As she turned around, she caught sight of herself in Alexander’s tall dressing mirror and gawked at the image. Now that her eyes were getting used to the dim light, she could make out the wild mass of her hair, the dark streaks on her throat and chest, and her wide eyes and hollow cheeks. I can only imagine what I look like in full light.

  Savina looked around the rest of the room, which was obviously part of a suite. There were several doors, likely leading to a closet and bathroom…and there were long, heavy curtains that covered a set of French doors. A possible exit.

  Still moving slowly—she ached, she was weak, and her knees were very trembly—Savina gave one good yank on the drapes, and sunlight spilled in. It was well into daylight, and now she could read the clock on the table next to the bed: half-past three.

  A little chill shimmered through her.

  The fact that she’d been here for more than half a day did not bode well. Surely Max would be looking for her.

  If something hadn’t happened to him. Savina pressed her lips together as her stomach began to churn violently. There had been those two gunshots…

  Stay calm. There could be a million explanations for the fact that he hasn’t come looking for you. After all, she’d told him she could take care of herself. She’d insisted on going forward with her plan.

/>   Maybe he’d been loath to interrupt what he believed was a lovers’ tete-a-tete…

  No. He wasn’t the least bit obtuse, and he certainly hadn’t been in favor of her seduction plan anyway. At the very least, Max would have sought her out to demand an accounting from her after the picnic.

  Which left Savina with the very unpleasant conclusion that all was definitely not well with her backup.

  Now she really had to find a way out of here…and the fact that she’d been locked into Alexander’s suite didn’t bode well.

  She pushed open the doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The fresh air felt wonderful on her clammy skin, but when she saw how high the balcony was above the ground—too high and difficult to risk climbing down in her weakened state—she knew she was going to have to get a lot more creative.

  Savina froze when she noticed dried blood on the balcony. Many splatters, as if it had dripped rapidly from some wound…not the sort of oozing plops that came from vampire bites.

  Her heart lodged firmly in her throat now, she scanned the area for any other clues. A glint of something caught her eye. When Savina stooped to retrieve the slender, silver-tipped stake from where it nestled against the wall, she knew it was bad news.

  Max’s favorite, with a silver core inside a virgin ash stake. He’d waxed rhapsodic about it while they were on the train, showing more enthusiasm about the merits of this weapon than any other topic thus far.

  Savina refused to spend time contemplating what it meant that the stake was no longer in Max’s possession; instead, she took it back inside with her and began to consider her options. At least now she had a weapon.

  But first she needed to get cleaned up…and something to eat. If she was going to outsmart Alexander Purcell, come face to face with Rastingard and steal her key, plus save Max (please, God, he was still able to be saved), she was going to need sustenance and something more appropriate to wear than a torn frock and sagging corset.

  CHAPTER 15

  ~ Trickery ~

  Savina was feeling much better by the time Alexander returned to his suite. She’d rung for the maids, and though a burly guard was posted outside the locked door to ensure she made no move to leave, apparently withholding food or water was not part of her host’s master plan to bring her into the Tutela.

  A parade of footmen and maids brought clean clothing, food, drink. Two of them even helped her run a tub of hot water in the attached bathroom.

  She’d just finished dressing when the door opened without a warning knock, and Alexander strode in.

  “You look much more appetizing than you did this morning,” he told her with a leer. Then his lascivious grin turned to a frown. “And I don’t know why, but you tasted different earlier, when I wanted breakfast. You burned my mouth.”

  Ah. So the holy water had worked…just not as quickly as she’d thought. And that also explained the relatively new wound on the back of her thigh. She shuddered, thinking what that might have led to if Alexander hadn’t been put off by the traces of holy water in her veins.

  Savina smiled and made her way toward the bed. “I missed you when I woke,” she said. “But it gave me an opportunity to freshen up. Perhaps we could pick up where we left off last night.” She made her smile very sultry as she slid onto the high mattress, then propped herself up with the pile of pillows she’d arranged a while ago.

  Alexander’s fangs erupted like a teenaged boy who was still unused to controlling his erections. “Rastingard has just arrived…but perhaps I should give her time to get settled before I introduce the two of you.” Eyes glowing violently red, he whipped off his jacket and flung it onto the valet stand.

  “I definitely look forward to meeting Rastingard. But for now…” Savina looked at him with half-lidded eyes and parted lips. When Alexander slid onto the bed next to her with an enthusiastic jolt, she reached for the back of his head and pulled him down to kiss her—for she preferred to avoid fangs for the rest of the day.

  He didn’t seem to mind, for he pushed her back onto the pillows, covering her lips roughly. As she shifted and arched up into the passionate kiss, she slid her hand beneath the nearest pillow. Max’s stake was waiting, and she curled her fingers around its comforting weight.

  Stealthily, she extracted her hand from beneath and slid her arm around him. “Alexander,” she murmured, pulling her mouth away from his ardent one, “where is Aziz?”

  He stilled, then pulled away to look down at her. “Do you mean Max Denton? You don’t expect me to believe you didn’t know his true identity.” His fangs looked wicked and frightening, and his expression had turned cold. “I didn’t know it was him until Briggs, my valet, told me. Now that puts a different spin on everything, doesn’t it, my dear?”

  “What are you talking about?” Savina did her best to sound and appear surprised. Her hand rested on his back, just over his heart. “Max Denton? The Venator?”

  “I’m not a fool, Sabrina. I don’t know why you’re with him, why you brought him here, whether you knew the truth or not—but that doesn’t change anything. I’ll still keep you as my concubine, and once I deliver Max Denton to her, Rastingard will do anything for me. Including allowing me to sire you into an undead. Then,” he said, stroking her cheek roughly, “you’ll be this beautiful for eternity. You’ll answer only to me, and we will have an eternity together.”

  Savina managed to hide her relief that Max was still alive. That he was being kept for Rastingard was all she needed to know. “I don’t think so, Alexander, darling,” she said, and rammed the stake down into his back as hard as she could.

  He froze, his eyes flaring with shock and pain. And then, all at once, he exploded into gritty, dusty gray ash.

  Coughing, Savina flung herself off the mattress and began to brush the remnants of Alexander Purcell from her hair and clothing. It was all over the bed, but it couldn’t be helped. If she opened the windows and French doors wide enough, hopefully the smell would dissipate before anyone noticed.

  Anyway, it didn’t matter, because she was leaving now. She had a meeting with Rastingard.

  ***

  It wasn’t difficult to sneak out of Alexander’s rooms now, for the door was unlocked, and with the master’s arrival, the guard had been dismissed. Savina slipped out and made her way quickly and carefully to her own bedchamber, hoping against hope she might find Max waiting for her there.

  But the room was silent and empty, just the way she’d left it last evening when she rushed out to meet Alexander. Max didn’t appear from under the bed or behind the dressing screen, even when she closed the door and hissed his name.

  Damn. Now she was going to have to take the time to find him, for she much preferred to face Rastingard with a Venator at her back than not. She wondered how long it would be before Alexander’s absence would be noticed.

  She was just shoving an extra stake into the small loop on her garter when a loud noise caught her attention. Pounding and banging, bodies slamming against the wall—it sounded like someone was fighting or struggling.

  Max? It had to be. Either he was fighting with someone, or someone was doing unpleasant things to him.

  The disturbance was coming from a floor or two above her, and Savina wasted no time going to investigate.

  CHAPTER 16

  ~ Revelation ~

  Max knew he wouldn’t die from the bullet wounds. At least, he didn’t think he would, thanks to his vis bulla.

  When a Venator was given his or her the holy strength amulet, it was pierced through the skin so its power saturated the body. While wearing the tiny silver cross thus, which was about the size of the nail of one’s little finger, a Venator was imbued with strength, speed, and rapid healing.

  A Venator was never without his or her vis, and a majority of them preferred to wear it pierced through the upper lip of the navel. That kept the amulet out of sight and out of reach from the vicious swipes of undead or other assailants. It also assisted in keeping a Venator’s identity se
cret.

  Max had tried that at first—but after a particularly annoying undead managed to rip away the vis right through his shirt, he decided to put it in another, less obvious location. Now, he wore his strength amulet as part of a unique ring around his big left toe. It was pierced through the loose skin on the underside of the digit. The cross lay flush against the top of his toe like a silver brand, and it was even more comfortable than having it dangle against the hollow of his torso.

  Despite the power of his vis, the gunshot wounds throbbed painfully—one in his right shoulder, and one along the outside of his left thigh—and they both kept oozing blood. Of course, if he weren’t moving around so much, trying to free himself, maybe they would have stopped bleeding by now.

  But Max didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious or how long he’d been in this room.

  When he came back to himself and realized his predicament, his first terrified thought was Savina. The subsequent rush of fear threatened to paralyze him, sending him back to that day of horror when he’d found Felicia, but he fought back the worry. He thrust every worst-case scenario to the back of his mind. He couldn’t think about that now; he’d do her no good if he were so distracted that he couldn’t save himself.

  He just prayed she was still able to be saved.

  But the residents of Crenshaw Hall knew his true identity, and that meant her cover had been blown too. He tasted sourness at the back of his throat. There might be reason to keep him alive, but that wouldn’t necessarily hold true for Savina. Max turned his mind to what he did know, and what he could do to escape.

  He did know that vampires seemed to have had a feast while he was knocked out, however, for his shoulders and arms were riddled with bite marks. The fact that he was still alive and not shredded to pieces indicated his captors had plans for him, which was no surprise. Rastingard was probably just as desirous of meeting Max as he was to meet her—and he could hardly wait. Clearly, he’d been left intact because Alexander Purcell was intelligent and cunning enough to deliver Max to the great vampire in as whole a condition as possible.