Christian (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 10)

by D. B. Reynolds

  It was a deadbolt, and looked almost too heavy for the door. She’d checked as best she could when they’d hustled her in here, and the door had appeared to be an ordinary inside door, even lighter than the one in the outer room. The lock, on the other hand, was pretty damn serious. But that was okay, because Leighton’s Hydra-Shok ammo was serious, too. She might not be able to shoot out that lock, but then, she didn’t have to. She could just blow the door to pieces and climb through. It would make a lot of noise, but that’s what the rest of her mag was for. She’d never shot a person before, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t. Especially if that person had kidnapped her and was now holding her against her will.

  She stiffened to attention when she heard voices outside. They drew closer, and she recognized one of them as Anthony’s. Her fingers tightened on the gun. She could shoot him when he walked through the door. But what about his guards? She wasn’t exactly Rambo, and these were vampires. She doubted she could shoot fast enough to hit more than one of them, even if that one was Anthony. On the other hand, she was really worried about Anthony’s immediate plans for her. If he tried to bite her as some sort of claiming ritual . . . Just the thought made her sick to her stomach.

  She shoved the gun into her purse just in time, as the door opened and Anthony walked into the room.

  “Natalie, darling,” he said, taking her hands in his, raking her over from head to toe. He frowned as he took in the artfully faded and torn jeans, her Nikes, and slouchy sweater. “Not your usual mode of dress, my dear. But we can buy you something more appropriate once we’re home.”

  Natalie bit her tongue to keep from telling him what he could do with his “usual mode” comment. But then the full meaning of what he’d said penetrated.

  “Home?” she asked. What did he mean by home? Where was he taking her?

  “New Orleans, of course. We’ll be leaving within the hour.” He chuckled at Natalie’s puzzled expression, and said, “I’m sure this is all very confusing for you. It’s certainly not what I planned, but events have overtaken us, and we must move quickly.”

  “Events?” she repeated. “What sort of events?”

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, darling,” he said solemnly. “But Christian Duvall is dead. He fought bravely, but his opponent was much older and more powerful, and he never had a chance.”

  “Dead?” Grief swelled, crushing her heart and lungs, until she could barely breathe. But even as she swayed under the pain of it, part of her doubted Anthony’s words. She and Christian had a connection, didn’t they? They weren’t mated or anything, but he was a powerful vampire, and he’d taken her blood more than once. She’d even taken a little of his, too, just a few hours ago, when she’d bit his shoulder. But even more than that, she loved him. Her thoughts screeched to a halt as she realized it was true. She loved him. Which made her even more certain that Anthony was lying. But she couldn’t stop the tears that welled up, and didn’t even try. They rolled down her cheeks, and she couldn’t find the will to wipe them away.

  “I know you cared for him. You’re young and innocent, and he had that French charm, but trust me, darling Natalie, you’ll forget him once we start our life together.”

  Natalie froze. She could feel Anthony’s mind pushing at her again, trying to persuade her to his way of thinking. Or, more likely, to take away her will and force her do what he wanted. The bastard. Well, too bad for him. She knew what it felt like now, and Anthony held no dominion over her. Christian was the only vampire in her heart and her mind.

  A thought suddenly occurred to her. If Christian was still in her mind, if their connection was still protecting her from Anthony’s sleazy manipulation, then he had to be alive. Either Anthony was lying, or he didn’t know the truth of what had happened down in Laredo. Either way, her best bet was to pretend to go along for now. Let Anthony think she was his . . . whatever the hell he thought of her as. Slave? Minion? Lover? She shuddered inwardly at the very idea, but she had to convince him she’d been whammied. She dug up an engaging smile and plastered it on her face as she listened to his crazy ass plans.

  “The house is ready, with all the necessary upgrades for our safety. I’ve even spoken to your parents, and they’ve given their blessing. You’ll be immortal, my darling, just as I am. We’ll have several lifetimes together.”

  Good Lord. She barely managed to keep her reaction from showing. He’d talked to her parents? What the hell? Was he stuck in the fourteenth century? But it didn’t matter, because she knew he was lying now. Her father would never have given his blessing to a relationship with Anthony. He’d have been on the phone five seconds after Anthony left, yelling at her to get her ass home so he could set her straight.

  “I know this has been an emotional night for you, and I wish I could give you more time. But you can rest on the way, and you’ll feel better once we reach New Orleans. Now, relax as much as you can, and I’ll be back to escort you to the plane very soon.” He pulled her into a tight embrace, and she had to force herself not to shove him away. “We’re going to be so happy.” He said it with so much emotion, that she was convinced he believed it. Yikes.

  It was almost painful to maintain her fake smile, as she watched him hurry out of the room, his guards in tow. The door closed, and she heard the click of the lock. She blew out a relieved breath, massaging her jaw, which was stiff from that stupid smile. She walked over and tested the knob. Definitely locked. Apparently, their impending connubial bliss didn’t stop him from holding her prisoner. And what was the big hurry in leaving for New Orleans tonight? Could it be that someone was on his way back here? Someone like Christian?

  She heard the outer door close this time, and the noise snapped her out of her thoughts. Who cared about why Anthony was going to New Orleans? The only thing that mattered was that he believed he was taking her with him, and that wasn’t going to happen. She was going to be long gone before he came back.

  The possibility that Christian might actually be dead briefly threatened to derail her new determination, but she fought it back. If Anthony was lying about one thing, he was probably lying about it all. But she needed to get out of there to uncover the truth.

  THE FLIGHT BACK to Houston seemed to take days rather than hours. Christian checked his cell phone obsessively, calling Natalie far too many times, and never getting her. By the time the chopper reached his neighborhood, he was standing in the open hatch staring down as if he could see what was happening by force of will alone.

  The pilot headed for the high school athletic field, but Christian tapped his shoulder. “Drop us at the house, we’ll jump.”

  The man swiveled to give him a disbelieving look, then shrugged. He’d probably figured out by now that his passengers weren’t exactly your run-of-the-mill humans. If they wanted to jump from a helicopter, that was their business.

  “I can’t hover any lower than twenty-five, thirty feet in that neighborhood,” he warned Christian. “There’s a rope back there if you want to rappel down.”

  Christian nodded. One rope for the four of them would take too long, but maybe Scoville would need to use it. He was still far from full strength.

  Having heard the conversation, Marc stood and dug around behind the seats. Finding the rope, he looped it through a D-ring tie-down on the floor of the chopper, then knotted it securely. Scoville stared at the rope unhappily, but gave a reluctant nod. He probably hated being the weak link, but he wasn’t stubborn enough to break a few more bones trying to prove something that didn’t need proving.

  Christian’s house came into view, and it didn’t look good. Every light was on and the front door was wide open. As the pilot maneuvered into place, Christian noticed that one of the bedroom shutters was also cracked open, which meant someone had gotten out that way. Or at least tried to.

  Fear settled in his gut. What the hell had happened? He looked over a
t Cibor, whose face reflected the same emotion. His lover was down there, a woman he’d been with for decades, if not centuries.

  “This is the best I can do,” the pilot said over their headsets.

  Christian leaned out the open door and nodded. “This will do.” He ripped off the headset, and leapt. Cibor was right behind him, then Marc, and finally Scoville slithered down the rope.

  The minute his feet hit the ground, Christian was running, his senses wide open, scanning the house for signs of life. He found only one, faint but there. A vampire.

  Where the fuck was Natalie?

  “One vampire,” he snapped as Cibor raced up beside him. “Badly injured.”

  Cibor growled and shoved into the house ahead of Christian, falling to his knees at what he found. Jaclyn lay facedown on the floor, blood staining her sweater and pooling around her from a wound they couldn’t see. Her head was turned to one side, her pale face bruised, her eyes closed.

  “Jaclyn, moje serce,” he cried, lifting her delicate frame into his arms.

  Christian didn’t know much Polish, but he knew that one. “My heart,” he’d called her, and the agony infused into those two words told Christian more than anything he’d learned from Natalie about the love shared between these two vampires.

  “Let me help her,” he said gently, going to his knees in front of the couple. There was no point in searching the house for Natalie. She wasn’t here. And he wasn’t prepared to find her body, so he didn’t look.

  Cibor crushed Jaclyn closer to his chest, with a hostile look. Christian understood the vampire’s dilemma. His instincts were telling him to defend her, but reason was telling him Christian could be trusted, and that he could help her. Cibor just had to get past the fierce possessiveness that was riding him hard right now.

  Christian waited patiently, meeting Cibor’s gaze, gently urging the other vampire to think.

  “Let him do it,” a weak voice said, and both vampires dipped their heads to stare at Jaclyn. Her lips parted in a bloody grimace. “My body’s trying to fix itself, but I’ve lost too much blood.”

  Christian snapped his gaze back to Cibor. Jaclyn might want his help, but he still had to get past her lover.

  The big Polish vampire finally nodded, but he didn’t release his grip on Jaclyn.

  “She needs to drink, Cibor,” Christian said matter-of-factly. He wasn’t a lord yet, but he had far more power than Cibor did, which meant his blood was more powerful, too. He shoved the long sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow, then bent his head to rip open a vein. Blood welled instantly. Cibor’s nostrils flared, as Jaclyn turned her head, instinctively seeking the flowing bounty. She growled, and Cibor finally loosened his hold just enough for her to roll in Christian’s direction.

  Christian didn’t wait. Not wanting to push Cibor’s protective instincts past the limit, he scooted only close enough to extend his arm, and place his wrist over Jaclyn’s mouth. She latched on at once, mostly lapping the blood at first, then sucking more vigorously as her strength returned. Which didn’t take long. Jaclyn was a powerful vampire, and Christian’s blood was potent. After only a few minutes, she gave a final long lick and released Christian’s arm. He could already see the strength returning to her, her face once again animated by her own power.

  She sat up, still leaning on Cibor, but clearly far better than she had been.

  “What happened?” Christian asked as patiently as he could.

  Cibor gave him an unfriendly look, but Jaclyn patted her lover’s hand and turned to Christian. “It was my fault,” she said. “A friend came to the door, one of the few women on Anthony’s security squad, and someone I thought could be trusted. I opened the door to her, and the bitch did this.” She dipped her chin at her abdomen and the bloody ruin of her shirt. “But I was just in the way,” she said, meeting Christian’s gaze intently. “It’s Anthony, Christian. He still thinks Natalie is his.”

  The rage in his chest was so consuming that Christian thought it would destroy him. He rose to his feet. “How long ago?”

  Jaclyn shifted her gaze to the clock on the mantel, a clock he’d barely known was there.

  “An hour, I think. He won’t hurt her,” she said, wincing as she tried to sit up. “But I think he’s leaving Houston for good this time. I don’t know who’s supposed to take over—”

  “He was giving the territory to Hubert,” Christian said tightly. “But Hubert’s dead.”

  Jaclyn’s eyes widened. “You?”

  Christian nodded. “I have to get to the estate.”

  “The chopper,” Cibor suggested.

  “It’s long gone. We’ll have to drive.”

  Cibor looked up, indecision tightening his expression, torn between his need to stay with Jaclyn and keep her safe, and his hatred for Anthony which was urging him to continue this fight.

  Christian shook his head. “Stay with Jaclyn. Keep Alon safe. I’ll handle Anthony.

  Marc,” he said turning to his lieutenant.

  “Sire?”

  “We’re taking the BMW, and fuck the speed laws.”

  Marc laughed grimly. “Music to my ears.”

  NATALIE LISTENED at the door for a long time, before she was convinced that they were really gone this time. Walking over to the desk, she retrieved her gun, and slung her purse over her shoulder again. It seemed weirdly light without her laptop in it, and she wondered if they’d found the computer. Or if they’d even looked. But she set that aside with everything else. She had only one purpose—to get the hell out of there.

  She tapped on the door experimentally, concentrating on the area around the lock to determine how far the metal plating extended. Hydra-Shok ammo was designed to destroy flesh by creating a shock wave as it passed through the body, expanding tissue and leaving permanent muscle, vascular, and nerve damage. It left a small hole going in, and a big one going out. She wasn’t sure how it would work on a wooden door, but she was sure it had enough punch to do some major damage. Her plan was to shoot out the wood all around the lock, then employ her best judo move and kick the lock right out of the door. Five shots should do it, but they’d also draw the attention of anyone nearby—why hadn’t Leighton included a damn suppressor with the gun?

  Natalie stepped back. She’d have to be fast and accurate. She hadn’t fired a gun in a while, but she could still sure as hell hit a target from a foot away.

  She took a minute to listen again at the door, then raised her gun, and her courage, and fired five shots in succession without stopping, her aim moving right around the lock. Her ears were ringing when she finally stepped back, and took a quick look at her work. The doors were sagging, the lock connected by the thinnest of raw wooden shards. Not wasting any time, she gave the lock a solid side kick and the doors popped open, the lock falling heavily to the carpeted floor.

  Once in the outer room, she hurried directly to the hallway door, considering for the first time that it, too, might be locked. But luck was with her, and the knob turned easily in her hand. She opened it cautiously and peered out. So far, the corridor outside was empty, but she was pretty sure that wouldn’t last.

  She ran for it. She had no strategy, no secret ninja powers of concealment. Her idea was to run as fast as she could, find a stairway, and make it to Jaclyn’s office on the second floor. Theoretically, that was Raphael’s territory, and she should be safe there, even if Jaclyn wasn’t in. The too-vivid memory of Jaclyn lying in a pool of her own blood flashed across the back of her eyes, and she nearly stumbled on the first step. Damn, she hoped they’d been telling her the truth about that, and that Jaclyn would recover.

  She made it to the first floor. It was quiet, weirdly so. She peeked around the corner of the stairwell and found no one. This was odd. Apart from her own rather noisy escape, simple routine business usually kept this corridor busy. Som
ething was definitely up. Maybe it was because Anthony was leaving. Maybe all of his people were off packing or doing whatever the hell they did for him when he traveled.

  But then, she really didn’t give a fuck why. It was good for her and that was all that mattered. She burst into the hallway and ran for the main staircase to the upper floors. She was halfway up the first flight, when there was a shout and the sound of heavy footsteps pounding up behind her.

  Natalie stuck her hand in her purse, reaching for her gun, but a hard arm circled her, pulling her back against a thick chest and trapping her arms at her sides.

  “Got you, you little bitch,” an unrecognizable voice growled in her ear.

  Natalie gave an angry shout, and jabbed her elbow into his gut. His grunt was satisfying, but it did nothing to loosen his hold on her.

  “That wasn’t nice. I’d teach you better, but Anthony wouldn’t like that.” He squeezed her hard enough to hurt, and she gasped. “But then, people get hurt all the time by accident.”

  “Is that was this is?” she managed to ask, her voice high and tight from the pressure he was putting on her. “An accident?”

  “Close enough, bitch. Close enou—” His words became a grunt of surprise, and the next thing she knew she was covered in dust.

  THE GATE AT Anthony’s estate had been wide open. No guards in sight.

  Tires skidded on the perfect green grass as Marc pulled right up to the front porch and slammed the car into park.

  Christian was out of the car before it stopped moving, If Natalie was in there, minutes could make a difference. By the time he reached the porch, Marc was right on his heels. But even as he ran, he registered the weird silence of the estate. No guards, no one walking around. Momentous events were at play, and no one was here to observe them. Did Anthony even know what had happened in Laredo? Or did he think his plan had worked, that Christian was dead and Hubert on his way to claim the South?