by Terry Spear
“Let me out of here, you…you—”
“Sleep, Tezra.” He considered forcing her to sleep, but—
“Don’t tell me what to do! Daemon, let me out of here!”
Before he could respond, his longtime friend and confidant, Maison, asked from outside his home, “May I enter?”
Tezra grew quiet as death.
“Come in,” Daemon replied, slightly perturbed by the intrusion, but suspecting word concerning the huntress would soon spread, and several of his kind, even the killer, might attempt to see him.
His blue eyes wide with curiosity, Maison appeared next to him. He wore his golden hair tied back in a leather strap. Jeans and a buttondown collared royal blue shirt was his typical attire despite his being the regional director of the vampire clans in Oregon. “I’ve heard disturbing news.”
Daemon motioned to Maison to silence his words. He poured a glass of Chablis for him, then led his friend to the couches in the greatroom. “We have a guest.”
Maison listened for several moments to detect Tezra’s presence. Her blood pulsed rapidly through her veins, enticing any vampire within range. “She’s not one of us.”
“No, but she has telepathic abilities.”
Maison’s facial expression changed from curiosity to concern. “Why have you…you do not think she will make a superior blood-bonded mate, do you?”
Daemon choked on his wine and sputtered, “No.”
Maison rubbed his square chin and concentrated again. “Then why is she imprisoned in your cellar, if I may be so bold as to ask, my prince?”
“Atreides took her hostage.”
“Damn, Daemon. You know how many already think he’s involved in these killings.”
Irritation flowed through Daemon’s blood. His brother couldn’t be the murderer, though even he had some doubts as to the state of Atreides’s mind since the police officers had killed their uncle. “It isn’t him.”
“Every time another city police officer dies, he’s glad. Even though we know he isn’t involved, his actions make him suspect.”
“He tried to protect the woman.”
Maison’s blond brows arched. “The one in your cellar? I hear her rapid breath, her pounding pulse, even the gnashing of her teeth. Who is she?”
“The one the murderer will target next.”
“The woman from the Special Crimes Unit who’s investigating the murders?” At first Maison frowned, then his face lit up. “The bait. Very clever of you. I feared you had fallen for another one of them.”
Daemon scowled at him.
Maison quickly said, “I understand your reasoning for taking the woman into custody.”
“We can’t afford an all-out war between the SCU and the vampire clans. That’s where this is headed if this maniac recruits copycats, especially since some already admire him for his brashness, feeling humans aren’t of consequence anyway. But those of the SCU are a different matter. Because of their training and cunning, and since they were affected by the plague like us, some rogues feel they’re much more of a match and want to target them. The rogues’ actions are folly.”
“I agree.” Maison took a seat and drank some of his wine. “What’s the plan?”
“We find the renegade and terminate him.”
In many ways, Maison and Daemon were a lot alike. They had both been through so many wars the images of blood and broken bodies blurred. They wanted the best for their people and everyone else concerned.
“Let me out of here, Daemon!” Tezra screamed.
Daemon’s jaw ticked as he fought smiling at the woman’s tenacity. “I’d assumed she’d fallen asleep.”
Leaning forward, Maison set his half full glass on the coffee table. “When will you let the others know you have her?”
Daemon glanced in the direction of the cellar. “When the trap is set.” He turned to face Maison. “In any event, I don’t want her harmed. If she remains on her own, whoever the killer is will most likely eliminate her. When the word goes out that I have her in protective custody, I’ll need you, my brother and three of our most loyal friends to help safeguard her. Until then, have an additional security detail provide perimeter protection.”
“When do you want the word sent that she’s here?”
“I need to learn what she knows about the killer. The more we understand about who he is and what he’s become, the better chance we’ll have to fight him. Give me two days at the most.”
“If she doesn’t know anything?”
“We’ll have to take our chances.”
Maison finished his wine and rose from the couch. “I’m on it.” He turned his head in the direction of the cellar. “She is crying.”
“A woman’s ploy to soften me. It will not work.”
Maison nodded. “I’ll send the security force at once.”
When Maison vanished, Daemon poured himself another glass of wine. But Tezra’s sobs grew. Sighing, he set the glass aside, then appeared next to the bed where she sat.
“Go to sleep, huntress.”
“I’m an investigator by trade, not a huntress!”
Though he was well aware her job description stated she was an investigator with the SCU, the way she’d protected her bodyguard and doggedly pursued the killer vampire, she seemed more suited to being a huntress. Which made him wonder why they hadn’t trained her in that field instead.
Even as tired as she looked, she was beautiful, her pink glossy lips pouting, her green eyes sparkling. The image of freeing her from the leather she wore instantly came to mind again. “You’re exhausted. Sleep.”
“I can’t sleep like this. I can’t stand being in a room without windows, buried beneath the ground. It…it gives me claustrophobia.”
Suspecting she had ulterior motives, he held firm. “It’s the safest place for you…for now.”
She rubbed her temple. “No. I’ll go mad down here.”
Folding his arms, he said, “If I take you from this room, you’ll have to sleep in my bed with me.” Which triggered unbidden images of tangling in a carnal embrace with the enchantress.
“Why don’t you just lock me in another bedroom?”
Darkly amused at her suggestion, he gave her a wry smile. “You’d find a way to escape. You’ll stay here.”
“Why do you think your brother didn’t murder the policemen when others believe he did?”
“He didn’t kill you.”
She studied him, then took a deep breath. “Please, let me out of here. You can use me as bait upstairs, aboveground. Please don’t make me stay in this tomb.”
“You won’t like it in my room any more than you do here.” He was certain of it, and he was sure she’d try to worm her way out of his bed if she could too.
She was petite like Lynetta, the huntress who’d stolen his heart, but the similarity ended there. Tezra’s hair was longer, darker, more striking, her eyes emerald, hiding a history he sensed would reveal a hell of a lot about her if he could dig into her psyche and discover it. He was certain she had no intention of being used as bait, not by him or anyone else. Some SCU officers lived on the edge, notoriously lying when it suited their purpose. He couldn’t trust her.
Yet, he tried to sense if she were telling the truth about her dislike for the cellar. A light sheen of perspiration covered her skin. Her breathing was too fast. It appeared she really was claustrophobic.
Cursing, he grabbed her wrist. He heard her sudden intake of breath, felt her maddeningly enticing rapid pulse beneath his fingertips, begging him to drink of her nectar. Trying to ignore the feelings she stirred in him, he growled inwardly, transported her to his room and deposited her on the bed.
Coffee-colored curls cascaded over her shoulders in a windswept mass, giving her a wild, untamed look. Her expressive eyes showed her every emotion, from earlier when he entered her office and she’d been so startled, to now, pleading for compassion.
If he gave in to her this time, what would he do next? He was deter
mined not to lose his soul to her like he’d nearly done with Lynetta.
“Can you turn on the light?” she asked.
Waving his hand, he switched the crystal bed lamp on, illuminating the room in a sultry pale glow.
She surveyed the room and simply said, “Big…and dark.”
“It has windows and is on the second floor.” He motioned to the bed. “Tuck yourself in.”
“Are you certain you can’t lock me in and sleep somewhere else?”
Unwilling to play games any longer, he advanced on her.
Her eyes widened.
“In bed, or I will ignore your wishes and return you to the cellar.”
Frowning, she proceeded to remove her leather jacket. “If you were a gentleman, you would leave.” She gave him an annoyed look, her eyes challenging him.
He raised a brow.
“Forget it.” Dropping her jacket on a chair, she climbed under the velvet comforter, still fully dressed. She watched him with narrowed eyes. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Aren’t you going to turn off the light?”
His lips twitched, betraying a smile. After extinguishing the light, she still looked in his direction, though as black as the room was he knew she couldn’t see him.
She sighed deeply. “Well? Aren’t you coming to bed?”
He reiterated, “Sleep. And do not aggravate me further. You won’t be able to leave this room, so don’t contemplate—”
Before he could say anything more, he sensed his brother outside, of all the damned things.
“Daemon, will you let me in?” his brother implored.
Her eyes widened.
“He won’t take you from here. Sleep, Tezra.”
Scowling, she closed her eyes.
He waited until her breathing softened, then he locked the door to his bedroom. Furious with himself for letting her manipulate him so, he left her to meet with his brother. If he wasn’t worried she’d try to escape or someone might attempt to reach her, he’d sleep in the cellar himself.
Daemon reappeared at the bar, grabbed his glass of wine and took a couple of healthy swallows. Biting back a curse, he said, “Freely, I open my house to you, my brother.”
Atreides appeared next to him, but turned his attention toward Daemon’s bedroom upstairs. “Why is the huntress in your room? Not confined to the cellar? Hell, even you said she was a dark huntress—they’re the worst kind.”
“Not that it’s any concern of yours, she’s frightened of the cellar.” He poured his brother a drink. “And technically she works as an investigator, not a huntress. My mistake. So why are you here?”
“You can’t fall for the woman, Daemon. You know what happened last time. For sixty, no seventy years, you wore the blackest mood.” Atreides took a swig of his drink. “Besides, you have the worst luck when it comes to turning women you intend to be your mates.”
Daemon studied him, still relieved that his brother had tried to protect the woman and hadn’t planned to terminate her. “Dammit, Atreides, I’m only interested in ending the serial killers’ reign of terror. If he murders her, the SCU will come down hard on all of us. You and I know it. But worse, the killer knows it.”
“All right,” Atreides conceded, but Daemon sensed his brother’s unease. “Did you discover anything from the saliva samples of the latest victim?”
“Only that it is not one of our closest friends. Unfortunately, we don’t have a databank for vampire DNA.”
“Maison said you plan to use her as bait.” Atreides paced, his long stride eating up the carpeted floor. “You haven’t had a woman companion in many years. Just a quick fix here and there. I don’t think it’s safe for you to share the same room with her.”
“You’re suggesting?”
Atreides stopped and faced Daemon, his look serious, like their uncle’s had been when he laid down the law. Atreides’s resemblance to their murdered relation was uncanny—same sturdy jaw, same raw edges, no rounded flesh to soften the harsh look, same dark furrowed brows and narrowed brown eyes.
Atreides cleared his throat. “I’m suggesting that she sleep in the cellar. Alone.”
“I’m not as needy as you seem to think, and I have more control than that. Why did you really come?”
“What if I stayed with her? I have no affection for those serving the SCU, especially after what you put me through for the past several decades. I’ll guard her.”
For all Atreides’s denying he cared anything for SCU personnel, Daemon wondered if his brother had more interest in the woman than he was letting on, which could prove disastrous. “I wouldn’t wish to sacrifice you. Return home to your blood bonds. Keep your ears tuned in case someone mentions something that will aid us. Also, she’s a telepath. If we need to share something private, channel your telepathic communication directly to me.”
“She’s a telepath? Dammit, Daemon, now you really can’t stay with her.”
Daemon wasn’t used to his brother’s interference, and he wouldn’t tolerate it from him or anyone else. “She hasn’t any control over me. Go, and remain alert.”
Atreides hesitated, then reluctantly bowed his head and left.
Daemon ensured all of his safeguards were in place, the spells that would keep any vampire from entering his home who’d been invited in before. Though normally his brother and others could pop in anytime they liked when his house wasn’t safeguarded, it would be rude to do so. Everyone asked permission to cross the threshold into a vampire’s abode, unless the one who gained entrance did so with malicious intent.
When Daemon walked into the bedroom, he sensed Tezra’s light breathing, her slower pulse. Asleep. Thank God. In a flash, he removed his clothes, having no intention of remaining clothed when he normally didn’t sleep that way. The bed was his after all, and he hadn’t wanted her in it in the first place. If she didn’t like it, she could return to the cellar.
“Hmmm, yes ,” she murmured in her mind.
He stared at the brunette, her long hair draped over her damnable skin-tight turtleneck, but she appeared sound asleep.
“Yes, yes ,” she said again.
He raised his brows. She talked telepathically in her sleep? Taking a deep breath, he slid under the covers on his side of the bed, though technically both sides were his.
“Tell me, what are you thinking?” he asked, slipping into her thoughts.
She lay very still, and her mind seemed to shut down. Her subtle jasmine fragrance lingered in his sheets. He took a deep breath, his blood stirring. Her heart rate had increased, and she whimpered, clutching at the pillow beneath her cheek. She shook her head back and forth slowly as if her reflexes were dulled. A sob escaped her lips.
Reaching out, he ran his fingers over her hair, the strands soft beneath his fingertips. He meant only to calm her. Touching her cheek, he found tears. He pulled his hand away as if she’d burned him. She was only having a nightmare. It would go away, but if he began to have feelings for her, his nightmares would only begin.
“Katie…Katie, oh no, dear God, Katie.” She spoke the words breathlessly in her mind, hesitant, frightened.
Was it some jumbled, made-up nightmare, or a past recollection? She wept more, and he fisted his hands. If he returned her to the cellar, he could sleep. No, he couldn’t. He’d still hear her thoughts.
“Oh dear God, oh dear God.” She bit her lip until he smelled blood.
Dear God was right. The pulsing, burning need to taste her blood filled him with a sense of urgency.
What now, dammit? He could lick her wound, memorize the taste of her blood for all eternity and stop the bleeding, or he could agonize over the smell of it, listen to her rapid pulse, and try to keep his canines under control.
“Mom, Dad, oh, what have I done?” she cried.
As much as he didn’t want to care, or know anything about her, he couldn’t help himself. He never ignored someone who was in pain.
He leaned over and touched his tongu
e to her lip, licking her sweet, warm blood. With his heart hammering, his canines extended. For too long he hadn’t fed, and her blood imprinted on his tastebuds, urging him to take more.
Worse, she quieted under his touch, which served to further his craving.
He pulled the collar of her turtleneck down, ran his tongue over her neck, sensing the delicate pulsing of her blood beneath the skin, and grazed his teeth over her sensitive flesh without nicking her.
Already he was way too aroused, both sexually and bloodlust-wise. Atreides was right. Daemon hadn’t been with a woman recently enough to quench his thirst for someone as enticing as the woman lying beside him.
He moved away from her, but her heart sped up, and she seemed caught in the nightmare again.
“Tezra, everything’s all right now,” he said in a soothing voice. He shouldn’t get any deeper with her than he already was, but he wanted to discover what disturbed her. Taking her hand, he held it firmly and concentrated on her thoughts. The wall normally surrounding them had disintegrated in her sleep-filled state.
He reached out to see her nightmare, to discover whether it was a vivid, mixed-up dream, or a true memory from her past.
A voice reached out to him, an ancient vampiric voice Daemon thought he’d heard before but couldn’t recollect. It had to be someone he’d known in the distant past, but he couldn’t make any connection, only a vague familiarity.
“I punish you, the child, for complicating my work. Now you see that I am more powerful than you will ever be. Both you and your sister, Katie, will live a hell for the rest of your mortal days. See what your meddling in my affairs has brought you?” a male voice said to her, the words only a distant memory in Tezra’s thoughts.
Her reply showed the same vehemence and determination. “To the end of my days, I’ll hunt you down. I vow this on the blood of my parents. With my huntress’s blade I will carve out your heart and end your semi-immortal life. I swear it, you bastard!”
“Who is he?” Daemon asked, forgetting for the moment he was not her leader, that she didn’t have to tell him a thing, and if she were conscious, probably wouldn’t.
She tugged at his hand to pull him closer. “Katie, we’ll get through this. I promise.”