by M. J. Scott
“Then what do you have that I want?”
The question really was, what did I have that I was willing to give him? My eyes flicked to the whipping post. Could I? Bile rose and I turned away, looking down at my lap. No. I couldn’t imagine a lash cutting into my flesh, my back looking like Pavel’s. No.
“There is one other thing,” Tate said.
I lifted my head. “Yes?”
“You could let me thrall you. Let me show you what the gift should be like.”
My hands clenched as a picture of Pavel’s face, battered and worshipful, rose in my mind. To let Tate take my mind, to let him take me over . . . to force me to enjoy what he did to me.
It felt like he was asking for my soul. Maybe he was.
No pain, an insidious part of my mind whispered.
No. It wasn’t worth it. Knowing my fate was worth giving up the only real freedom I had left. I straightened my spine. “I—”
“I would release you, once it’s over.”
“Release me?” Thralled was thralled as far as I knew.
“Take away the bond.”
“You can do that?”
“Some of us can, yes.”
Huh. That was something the vamps hadn’t bandied about. I wondered why. “And you would have no control over me once I was released?” My resolve was weakening. I knew Tate was up to something. But if I could find out any information at all, it might save someone. Bug maybe. Or even me.
No pain, my mind whispered again.
No such thing as a free lunch, another part of me retorted. Why did Tate want to do this? He got off on pain. So offering to make me suffer less made no sense. There had to be something in it for him.
Something I was missing.
But as much as I twisted and turned it in my head, I couldn’t see what that might be, not if he was telling the truth about being able to break the thrall.
“If you agree, I will let your aunt go. As soon as we’re done.”
Careful when you’re dealing with the devil. Now I was really suspicious. If something looked too good to be true, it probably was. A terrible thought occurred to me. “How do I know she’s still alive?”
Tate pushed his chair back then walked across to the wall that wasn’t decorated with chains. He made a gesture and a panel slid back, revealing three screens.
“Surveillance,” he said briskly. “Room seven.”
I watched the bank of screens carefully as the center one brightened. Bug sat on the bed in another identical room. Maybe the same one as before, I couldn’t tell. She was frowning. In fact, she looked royally pissed. But she was alive. And unhurt as far as I could tell.
Of course, it could be a recording but it was as close to proof as I was going to get. I drank in the sight of her, thought about her walking free out of this nightmare.
And knew I had no choice.
“Do we have a deal?” Tate asked as he darkened the picture with another gesture.
I nodded, wondering if I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life—a potentially fatal mistake. “Yes.”
A strange expression crossed his face. Something not quite greed, not quite lust. Something closer to fulfillment, perhaps. He walked back to me and held out a hand. I took it, holding onto those cold fingers as he drew me over to the bed.
“Now,” Tate said when we were finally standing face to face, so close I could see the pulse in his throat. “Give me your eyes.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was like falling. Like diving into a deep dark chasm.
Weightless. Seductive.
Tate took me over, took me into his control and it was intoxicating. Better than any wine. Better than any drug.
“Ashley?” he said softly.
It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. If I could’ve crawled inside that voice and curled up there for the rest of my life, I would have.
“Yes?” I swayed toward him, breathing in his scent. It didn’t smell like death any more, it smelled like a promise, like an invitation. More alluring than Dan even. . . . I felt my forehead crinkle in a small frown. Better than Dan? That couldn’t be right. For a moment I hesitated but then Tate spoke again and I didn’t have any desire to worry about the wrongness.
“Ashley, come lie down.”
I obeyed silently. Doing what he asked felt oh so right and I smiled with the pleasure of it.
Tate coaxed me out of my clothes. I was happy to oblige. Anything he wanted. Anything. Drunk on the nearness of him, I put my hand down between his legs to find him hard and aroused.
I wanted that hardness. Wanted him.
He grasped my wrist. “Not that way.”
I pouted. “Why not?”
“There’s something better.” He flicked a thumb over my nipple as he pressed his face into my neck. “Don’t you want me to show you?”
Better than what I was already feeling? It was hard to conceive. Just his brief touch had ignited my skin, bringing me so close to the brink of orgasm that small tremors throbbed between my legs. I arched my hips, impatient. “Show me.”
He laughed softly then moved himself closer beside me, rubbed a finger over my lower lip. “Do you make the gift freely?”
I nodded, eagerness surging through me.
“Do you give yourself to me?” he asked.
I nodded again.
“Then I claim you,” he said hoarsely and he bit me. Not my throat but my breast, mouth closing around my nipple, teeth piercing my skin above and below.
I came, screaming with pleasure stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. Mind blowing waves of sensation, almost too strong to bear. I felt myself slide toward the edge of unconsciousness as he suckled me then buried his fangs deeper.
My mind cleared a little as he moved and I learned the truth about thrall.
That it didn’t take you over completely, at least not when what was being done to you was something you’d never do willingly.
There was a small part of me that was free of Tate. Not enough to move or protest but enough to be aware of what he was doing, of how I was responding to the touch of the thing who had killed my family. That part of me was screaming.
That part of me still felt the pain of his bite.
That part of me hated.
That part of me pleaded for help. And again as I begged, just faintly, I thought I heard someone speak my name.
Tate withdrew his fangs and moved over me. I registered that somehow he was naked. The free part of me redoubled its efforts to escape. To be raped on top of everything, to enjoy the rape. I wasn’t sure I’d survive it. But my body didn’t respond to my mind. It only responded to Tate.
He didn’t enter me, just lay on top of me and plunged his fangs into my neck. Just the feel of him, thick and heavy against me was enough to send me into another orgasm.
I clamped my legs and arms around him, drew him closer to me, pressed into his bite, whispering words of need to him.
Wanting to die every second.
I didn’t know how long we lay there, how many times he made me come. When he finally pulled free and lifted away from me I was only semi-conscious. But I still felt the loss of him like a knife sliding through me and rolled toward him.
He climbed off the bed and stood above me, looking golden tinged in the candlelight, licking blood—my blood—from his fangs and all I wanted was for him to bite me again.
He smiled as I lifted my arms toward him. “Sorry, my dear, but we’re done here.”
Tears rose in my eyes and his smile grew wider. “You’re very tempting. I’d like to play some more but I will keep to our agreement. We’re done.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and I reached toward him again.
“Don’t move,” he said. “See that her aunt is freed, dump her somewhere out of the way. Make sure she’s well restrained. Maybe she’ll die before they find her,” he added to someone over his shoulder.
The tears streamed down my face as my heart broke. I d
idn’t care about Bug. I only cared that Tate had left me.
“Oh, and Ashley?”
I stared up at him as his voice sent a final shiver of pleasure through me. “Yes?”
“I release you,” he said and walked out of sight.
It took less than a second for the words to take effect. One moment I was lying sated but bereft and the next my mind was free and the reality of what had just happened hit home with a surge of horror that sent nausea spinning uncontrollably through me.
I rolled off the bed, somehow lurched to my feet, only to throw up in the ice bucket—a sour spill of wine and the steak I’d eaten for dinner—before collapsing again.
What had I done?
Oh God. What had I done?
“Take her away,” I heard Tate say—triumph clear in his tone. I closed my eyes as hands lifted me and didn’t open them again until I was dumped on the floor of my cell.
***
I spent the night alternating between throwing up and curling on the floor of the bathroom, shivering as my mind replayed what Tate had done to me. Even when I was left dry-retching, I couldn’t stop the spasms.
I’d let him touch me. I’d come because he touched me.
I’d wanted the monster.
I’d found pleasure in the thing that killed my family.
And it felt like I’d killed them all over again.
Part of me tried to argue that it wasn’t me, that I’d been thralled, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Somewhere, deep inside, there had to be something in me that liked what he did for me to react to him.
That was something I couldn’t face. The only thing I could cling to was that Bug was free. I had to believe Dan would find her. That she’d be okay.
One of us had to be.
Because if I’d let Tate do that to me for nothing then—I retched again. Then collapsed back into an exhausted heap, teeth chattering.
Which was how Kyra and Rio found me the next morning.
“Hello, Pretty.” Kyra nudged me with her boot, not so gently.
“Not so cocky now, are you, Pretty?” Rio added.
I ignored them. I didn’t really care what happened to me anymore. I just wanted it all to be over.
“She stinks,” Kyra said and the next thing I knew I was on the shower floor with water blasting over me. Cold water. I flinched and curled tighter.
They laughed at me but eventually turned off the tap, hauled me out, dried me off and dressed me in black pants and a shirt much like they wore. Clothes didn’t make me feel any better. I just kept shivering, only staying upright because Rio held me up.
“Bet you liked what he did to you,” he whispered in my ear. “Liked his fangs in you. Did he fuck you, Pretty? Or did you just want him too? Bet it made you come, didn’t it, Pretty?”
I shuddered as the memory of how good it had felt swept over me. And retched again, although my stomach was beyond empty.
Rio laughed, holding me at arm’s length as I writhed. “Remembering, Pretty? Maybe if you’re extra nice he’ll give you another go. Maybe this time he’ll let us watch.”
“Or join in,” Kyra added.
Vamp hearing, I thought vaguely. Rio scowled at Kyra. “I get first dibs at Pretty. I owe her a scar or two.” He touched my neck. “Though she’s acquired a few over the last couple of days. Want to show me the rest, Pretty? I saw your tits. Did he bite you anywhere else?”
I shook my head frantically, wishing I was back in the shower with hot water and soap. A lot of soap. Maybe if I scrubbed myself for a few days I might feel clean. Pity there was no way to scrub my mind out.
“I guess I’ll know soon enough.” He sounded smug but I didn’t care.
“C’mon. Boss’s waiting,” Kyra said.
I walked obediently between them, not wondering where I was going. I was more focused on what I should do next. It would be easiest just to provoke them. Let them hurt me. I deserved it. If I made them mad enough, they might even kill me. The thought made me smile.
“What’s so funny, Pretty?” Kyra asked as she opened the door to the lab.
I shrugged.
She scowled. “Don’t think you’ll find this so amusing.”
She pushed me through the door and I went. To my surprise, Tate was sitting on the examination table and Doctor Smith was drawing blood from his arm. A lot of blood. Tate was hooked up to the sort of bag they use at the blood bank.
“Good morning, Ashley.” Tate said.
I looked down at my bare feet. Anywhere but at him. I wasn’t going to risk him being able to thrall me again.
“Feeling shy? After what we did last night? Silly girl. Are you done?”
I assumed the last was directed at Smith.
“A little more, to be sure.” Smith said. Silence reigned for a minute or so then. “That’s enough.”
“Bring her over here,” Tate said and I was bundled forward. I still didn’t look up.
“Losing your nerve now? How disappointing. Because now is when all we’ve done pays off. Then we will begin the real game, you and I.”
That finally drew my attention. I raised my head. Tate stood by the table, rolling down his sleeve. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve forgotten our agreement? Your unfortunate reaction to last night has clouded your memory?”
I frowned. Our agreement? Then it came to me. I’d wanted to know why he’d kidnapped me. The detached feeling receded a little as my brain kicked in. Tate had fed from me. And now Smith had drawn his blood.
God, no. I looked from Smith standing there with the bag of blood back to Tate. “No!” I shoved at Tate and tried to duck around him.
“Kyra.” Tate sounded bored. Within seconds Kyra was in front of me, one hand around my throat, almost choking me. I fought her until she squeezed harder and I started seeing spots in front of my eyes.
“Where do you want her, boss?”
“Strap her down.”
I yelled and started struggling again, not caring when Kyra’s grip tightened. Let her choke me to death. If what I thought was about to happen was my alternative then death was merciful. But it didn’t help. Rio and Kyra dragged me to the table in about five seconds.
“Don’t. It won’t work. I’m vaccinated,” I said desperately as they locked me back down onto the table as easily as if I hadn’t been fighting them at all. I bucked against the restraints but that only earned me extra straps across my chest and hips. I could barely move. “You can’t turn me.”
“Ah, but we can,” Tate said, coming round beside me. “We’ve got something new.” He looked at Smith and grinned. “The doc here has been working hard.
The injections. The fight drained out of me. There was something in the injections. God. Tate was going to turn me. I had to stall for time. “What?”
Tate leaned in closer, looking at me with puzzlement. “Do you really care?”
“We had an agreement,” I reminded him. “You said you’d tell me. What was in those injections?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Quick, aren’t you? But I did agree.” He nodded at Smith, who started wrapping a tourniquet around my arm. “Doctor Smith has found a way around the vaccines. Almost an improvement, you could say. We’ve been trying for years now and we think we’ve got it right. We thought we had it right last year but they caught on to us.”
Who? I tried to think. What did he mean? What had happened last year . . . then I remembered. There’d been what the CDC had claimed was a batch of bad vaccines. Almost twenty people had turned as a result of vaccinations.
There’d almost been a panic and the government had spent a fortune trying to convince people to continue to be vaccinated.
“The bad vaccines. That was you?”
Tate nodded, then glanced at Smith. “Now we’ve come up with something better. Kind of a supercharged version of the mutation. It will overcome your immunity and, even better, once you’re turned, it will overcome the immunity of anyone you bite.”
It w
as a horrifying picture. “Anyone bitten by a vampire who has this mutation would turn automatically? They wouldn’t have to drink the blood of the vamp who bit them?”
“No. A much more efficient system.”
One that would result in a vampire population boom. A plague. I wanted to scream. “You won’t get away with it. They’ll stop you.”
“Not for quite some time. Time enough for our work to spread. By then it will be too late.”
“But why? What’s wrong with vaccinations?”
Tate scowled. “Humans are getting the upper hand. And humans are boring. No challenge.”
“You want to make more vampires so you can kill them?” Even for a lunatic that was twisted logic. There had to be another reason, surely? One they weren’t telling me.
“Supernaturals are worthy prey.”
“You’re crazy.” I looked from Tate to Smith, who was watching the vampire with a strange look on his face . . . almost impatience. “You’re both crazy.” Smith didn’t react and I focused on Tate.
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “Let’s find out.” He nodded at Smith and there was a prick at my arm. Smith slid a funny looking needle into the crook of my elbow then attached the bag of Tate’s blood.
“What are you doing?” I tried to move my arm and dislodge the needle but the restraints held me motionless.
Tate smiled at me. “Transfusion works better than you drinking my blood. More of the mutation survives without the stomach acids. Plus, there’s none of that tedious throwing up.”
“No!” But even as I watched Smith did something that sent a stream of dark red blood down the tube connecting the bag to my arm. “Stop.”
“Don’t worry, Ashley.” Tate said. “This won’t hurt much. Apart from the bit where you die. That bit hurts.” He sounded vaguely nostalgic. “But it won’t happen for another twelve hours or so. Once you are reborn, I’m sure you’ll see things differently.”
No, I wouldn’t. I’d still want to die. If I turned the first thing I would do would be walk out into a sunrise and let it take me. “They’ll stop you,” I said to Tate.