Blood Submission (Deathless Night Series Book 5)

by L. E. Wilson

  Once inside, she locked all of the doors before starting the engine. Stomping down on the gas, she pealed out onto the road, gravel flying and tires squealing. She didn’t think. She didn’t try to call anyone. She only concentrated on getting the hell out of there and to the safety of her apartment. If she could just get home, it wouldn’t be able to get to her, not without an invitation. And she sure as hell wasn’t about to invite it inside of her home.

  It occurred to her later that she had run through at least two red lights, but having to pay a couple of tickets was nothing compared to the terror she felt. Surprisingly, she managed to get upstairs and inside without anyone seeing her. Even her pain in the ass roommate was out. When she stumbled into her bathroom and flicked on the light, she realized that was most definitely a good thing.

  Dried blood caked her neck, her dark hair, and the front of her hoodie. Tears streaked her dirty face, and her normally olive-toned skin was pale and clammy. Reaching up with shaking hands, she lifted the neckline of her sweatshirt away from her throat, revealing two ragged puncture wounds. Blood still seeped from the holes. She should go to the hospital, but what the hell would she even tell them? It would bring her more attention than she wanted.

  Sitting down on the side of the bathtub, she braced one hand on the wall and turned on the water for a shower. As she waited for the hot water to kick in, something brushed against her bare leg. Laney jerked away so hard she almost fell into the tub, her lungs locking up in terror. But it was only Fraidy Cat, her orange tabby rescue cat. He’d gotten his name when he hid under the end table for three days after she’d brought him home. But looking at his brazen attitude these days, you’d never know it. She reached down automatically to pet him, and as she stroked his soft fur and felt the vibration of his purrs, her heart resumed a normal rhythm, and she sucked in a grateful breath of air.

  She didn’t let herself think about what had happened. Not yet.

  Leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor to be tossed out later, she stepped under the hot spray of water. The wound on her neck stung like a bitch, but she clenched her teeth and allowed the water to wash out the dirt and germs. She had to stop a few times because she was so lightheaded she was afraid she was going to pass out, but eventually she managed to get herself scrubbed clean and dressed in her navy “No Wake Zone” nightshirt. Digging the antibiotic ointment out of the first aid drawer, she applied some to a large square of gauze and then taped it over the bite.

  Once she looked a little less like an attempted murder victim, she staggered out to the kitchen and opened the fridge to get the orange juice. It took her a couple of tries. The door was amazingly heavy. In retrospect, she probably should have done this first, but she was in shock. Laney recognized the signs, and it explained why the sight of all of that blood had sent her automatically to the shower to get clean.

  Fraidy meowed, weaving in and out of her legs as she stood there in front of the open fridge door, wanting his dinner. She looked over at his empty food dish and blinked. The room spun around her.

  And everything went black.

  Chapter 3

  Dante stood in the center of an empty courtyard. It belonged to a run-down apartment complex that had seen better days before the neighborhood had gone to shit. He stared up at the third floor window. It was the only window that still had a light on at this time of night.

  The rest of his meal was in there. He could smell her.

  He licked his lips, tasting the remnants of the human female he’d had for breakfast. She’d tasted unlike anything he’d ever had before, and his body had reacted harshly, but not unpleasantly. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was very nearly starved of blood. To the point that his skin felt dry and loose on his bones, and his muscles ached with a weakness he hadn’t felt since he was a lowly human. So long ago, he was surprised he even remembered.

  He heard a shout to his left. His head snapped around and his gaze narrowed in on a middle-aged human male swinging a bloated trash bag at a loose dog. The dog yelped, skittering away with its belly dragging the ground and its tail between its legs.

  Lifting his face to the wind, Dante scented the male. His parched throat immediately began to burn in response. In less than the space of a heartbeat, he crossed the expanse of the courtyard and stood in the human’s path. The dog, an ugly little thing with brown and white fur, began to bark crazily at his sudden appearance. Dante smiled in amusement as the ridge of wiry hair on its back rose up into a full mohawk. Ignoring the little beast, he focused on the human that stood wide-eyed and frozen with fright in front of him.

  Dante knew it was fright and not just surprise. He could smell the sour stench of fear hanging heavy in the chilly air. The asshole should be frightened. Dante had a thing about humans that thought they were better than other creatures.

  Without thinking twice about it, he swung out with his right hand and broke the human’s neck, then yanked the body toward him and sank his fangs into the warm flesh. He’d have to drink quickly, before the heart stopped beating completely, but that had never been a problem for him.

  Dante managed to take only three large swallows before he dropped the corpse at his feet. Leaning over, he gagged, spitting out the blood still in his mouth. The dog, who’d crept closer to sniff his pant leg, jumped back quickly out of the way.

  Dante straightened and took some deep breaths, fighting down the nausea. He eyed the dead guy at his feet. Though obviously not an animal lover, he didn’t look the type to have a meth cocktail in his veins. But those looks were deceiving, because he’d tasted absolutely vile.

  The little dog sat down next to the deceased human. It wasn’t nearly such an ass kicker now that it had gotten his scent, or maybe because he’d protected it from the bastard human. Dante ignored the mutt as he tried to clean his mouth of the disgusting blood. But every few seconds, it would raise its soulful brown eyes to his face and whine. It was a pitiful sound coming from such a tough little dude. He stared down at it, and the little beast stared back without blinking. Squatting down, he held out his hand for the dog to sniff, which it did from a cautious distance. After a moment’s hesitation, it stood and took a small step toward him.

  “Are you gonna gnaw on me if I pet you, little man?” Dante’s voice was barely audible, his vocal cords not yet healed. He switched to a different way of communicating.

  I won’t hurt you.

  The dog came another step closer and peered up at him with its sad little face. Carefully, so as not to accidentally harm it, he rubbed its silky ears.

  A bizarre feeling crept over him, one he tried hard not to interpret. He knew he must look to be a monster, yet this little guy didn’t seem to care in the least. It didn’t even care that he’d just killed someone.

  Or maybe it did. But dogs, like vampires, tended to be realists. And though it was giving him its finest sad face, it seemed to know that its best bet was to befriend the one that was still alive and could possibly help it find something better to eat than what was in that trash bag.

  Dante gave it one last good ear rub, silently wishing it a good hunt. Then he stood and walked away without a backward glance, back to the window he’d been watching. When he got to the same spot he’d been in before, he felt something against his foot and looked down. The little dog had followed and was now sitting beside his boot, staring up at that same window. The barest wisp of a smile crossed Dante’s features, then he reached down and picked the little fucker up and tucked it under his arm.

  “You’re lucky I can climb one-handed.” The dog probably weighed in at a good forty pounds, but he barely noticed the extra weight, scaling the side of the building with ease. When he reached the window, he dug the toes of his boots into the worn siding and gripped the sill with the same hand that was holding the dog to hold steady. With the other, he tested the window. It was unlocked. As he slid it open, a fat orange cat waddled out of the kitchen and sat in the middle of the living area to silently watch him with its owlish

topaz eyes. A muffled noise came from the kitchen, and the cat flicked its tail.

  “My phone. Where the hell is my phone?” A female’s shrill voice came from inside the apartment, and a moment later, she rushed into the room, pulling up short at the sight of Dante hovering outside the window. She had dark hair and skin, and appeared to have just gotten home, as she still had a coat on over her short black dress.

  Catching her gaze with his, Dante reached out to her mind. “Invite me in,” he commanded.

  She dropped the phone in her hand, her eyes as large as the cat’s, who sat watching the scene go down with idle curiosity. “Come in,” she said in a monotone voice, then stood aside to await his next command.

  He lowered the dog in first. Its tail immediately started wagging as it went over to the cat to say hello.

  Dante climbed in after him and slid the window shut again. He breathed in deeply, discerning and cataloging the different smells. The scent of the woman he’d tracked there was much stronger now, which meant he’d been correct in guessing that this was where she dwelled.

  It was a small apartment. From where he stood just inside the main room, littered with mismatched furniture straight out of a thrift store, he could see the doorway to what appeared to be a small galley kitchen. The entry door to the apartment was directly across from him and a little to his left. To his right were three more doors. One he could see was a bathroom. A pile of clothes lay on the floor. That was where the overriding smell of blood was coming from. His mouth watered and his gums burned as his fangs descended, his stomach clenching with need. Leaving the animals to do their thing, he headed toward one of the other doors, of which he could only assume was a bedroom. He needed more of this human.

  As he passed the female that had invited him in, he reached out with one large hand and snapped her neck with a quick twist. He had no interest in feeding from her. She reeked of alcohol and pills.

  Walking past the kitchen, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye—a human limb. A bare, olive-skinned leg, actually. And attached to the leg was the human woman he was looking for. She was passed out cold on the floor in front of the open refrigerator. An unexpected hunger that had nothing to do with feeding assaulted Dante as his eyes traveled from the arch of her petite foot up the curve of her calf to her shapely thigh. It disappeared underneath a sleeping garment that looked to be nothing more than a long T-shirt. Her other leg was bent underneath her and her long dark hair hid her face, damp tendrils of it sticking to her cheek and forehead.

  For one frozen second, Dante feared she was already dead. Squatting down on his haunches next to her, he pressed his fingers to the pulse point on her throat, paused his breathing, and listened.

  He heard her heart contract and release at the same time he felt a reedy pulse. Removing his hand, he rested his forearms on his thighs as he regarded her prone form. Funny, but now that he’d found her, he was in no rush to finish her off. So it appeared he had a choice to make: he could go ahead and assuage his thirst for this one, and then go hunt for another that tasted as good as she did. Or, he could keep her alive and have the most amazing blood he’d ever tasted ready and available whenever he wanted a sip. At least until he got home. Dante scratched his chin. It wouldn’t be hard to bring her with him. Perhaps he’d even keep her for a while.

  Decisions, decisions.

  Glancing toward the kitchen doorway, he found the animals sitting side by side in silent companionship, waiting for his decision.

  “What do you think?” he asked them in his broken voice.

  The cat blinked its large eyes at him, not offering an opinion either way. But the dog lifted one front paw and yipped once.

  Dante nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I should keep her around.” At least until I’m healed enough to take the time to find another as appetizing. Gathering her up in his arms, he rose and carried her out of the kitchen. The animals followed him.

  He stood in the center of the main room, unsure of where to go to wait out the day. Though there was only the one window and it had blinds he could pull down, it was large, and made him feel too exposed. He could cover it with a blanket or something for extra protection, he supposed, but it wasn’t enough. Turning on his heel, he opened the door to the first bedroom. It definitely belonged to the female in his arms. Her scent was everywhere. One eyebrow lifted in surprise. Instead of the ruffles and glitter most human females seemed to favor, he found a clean room decorated simply and tastefully in warm blues and browns. Looking down at her, he tried to determine her age. Maybe she had matured past that ridiculous crap. These days, it was much harder to gauge a human’s age. In any case, pleasant as it was, there was also another window.

  Backing out of the room, careful not to knock her head on the doorframe, he sidestepped over to the bathroom. The room was small but clean. All beige and white, with a deep bathtub, a pedestal sink with a mirror, and just enough floor space for him to sit on the large tiles with his legs stretched out in front of him. And more importantly, not a fucking window to be seen.

  It would do.

  Lowering his meal into the bathtub, he left her there and went back into the kitchen and found the cat’s plastic dishes. He filled one with water and one with some dry cat food that he found in the pantry, and set them both on the floor. That should keep the two of them happy while he got some rest. And cat food had to be a step up from rotting garbage for his new canine friend. Then he retrieved the pillows and the pale blue comforter from the bed and took them into the bathroom with him.

  “Behave,” he told the two animals. Then he shut the door. The corpse could rot where it was for the day.

  Dante arranged the pillows against the wall next to the sink and spread out the comforter. Lifting the woman from the tub, he sat down and settled her across his lap. Her hair fell away from her face as her head fell back over his arm.

  Startled by the surge of lust that shot through him, Dante studied her closer. The female was quite beautiful, with the high cheekbones, sculpted full bottom lip, and dark slash of brows common to the women from the old country. Dante frowned, touching her cheek. The skin was cold and clammy to the touch, and had a chalky gray pallor to the natural olive tones. Raising his wrist to his mouth, he bit through the skin until he tasted blood, then laid the open wound over her mouth. He wiggled his arm a little until he got her mouth open and the blood could drip in.

  When she didn’t respond right away, he scowled, but then she started swallowing instinctively. He re-opened the wound and let her drink a little more, but not more than he could afford to lose. He examined her again. Her color was better, and she seemed to be breathing a bit easier. She would live to feed him again.

  Satisfied, he rearranged her on his lap so she was sitting with her back against his chest and her head resting on his shoulder. If she awoke before he did, he would know. He was taking no chances of her getting away.

  Dante wrapped his arms around her, slightly amused at how small she was. Her bare feet didn’t even reach his ankles. His eyes travelled up her full legs. They reminded him of what he thought of as old Hollywood legs, like the starlets of the nineteen forties and fifties. For as little as she was, she had plenty of curves. He tugged her nightshirt down and pulled one side of the comforter up and over the two of them, then he closed his eyes. It wasn’t a bed or even his old mattress back home under the city of Seattle, but it was definitely a step up from being buried alive in sand.

  At that thought, Dante opened his eyes again and looked at the tub in front of him. He briefly considered making use of it, but found he couldn’t gather the energy. The sun wouldn’t be up for an hour or so yet, but he was fatigued from the exertions of the night. He needed to rest.

  Chapter 4

  Luukas glanced up from the map on his desk to find four expectant faces watching him closely. There was only one face still missing—Dante’s—and he had no fucking idea how to continue the search for the top commander of his Hunters. After he, Nikulas, and Aiden found the abandoned van that had abducted Dante from their apartments, the trail had gone completely cold, even after towing the vehicle back to their garage and going through it with a fine-toothed comb. There wasn’t one fucking clue as to where his friend could be at this moment.

  But they needed to find him, and quickly, for things were about to become very dicey in their world. And according to Aiden—or rather Waano, the evil entity currently residing inside of Aiden—the demons that Leeha had so foolishly set free from the altar appeared to be waiting for something, and they were becoming restless. What it was, he didn’t know.

  Nik and Aiden had managed to track down the leader of the group in China by employing some trustworthy vampires over there—the one calling itself “Steven”—and they were keeping close tabs on that group. Though their sporadic movements and killing sprees seemed to have no rhyme or reason as of yet, other than causing mayhem within the city of Dalian and the nearby towns, Aiden was convinced that they were, in fact, looking for something.

  In the meantime, the demons that had possessed the vampires still in the area of Leeha’s destroyed mountain fortress were laying low. They were unusually inactive compared to their friends across the pond, according to Waano and Luukas’s scouts. Which only confirmed his suspicions that they were waiting for something to happen. And Aiden’s entity was not forthcoming about any information other than what he’d already told him.

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