by Jessica Lee
And Markus wanted his chance to do the same.
Without Marguerite.
…
The moon lit the street behind Wicked Ways in a silvery glow. It laid an almost ethereal line of demarcation between the street and the back lot leading to the club. Elle sat in the front seat of Kenric’s black Cheyenne SUV, waiting like the good girl she’d been asked to be. This sucked.
She needed to be inside. What if her sister appeared and she was stuck out here, her only connection to the inside being the stupid device jammed in her ear? How was she supposed to know if her sister walked in? She’d given Arran Alex’s photo, but hell, she could have changed her appearance just like they’d previously done. He wouldn’t recognize Alex as easily as she could. The wait was driving her crazy.
The comm device crackled, and she glanced over at Kenric in the driver’s seat. Logan and Guerin were outside, lurking in the shadows around the club while she, Kenric, and Emily kept up a command post in the vehicle.
“He’s here,” Arran’s deep voice whispered into her ear. The tension inside the cab of the SUV swelled into a hurricane force of anticipation. The Master’s gloved hands tightened around the steering wheel. In Elle’s peripheral vision, his mate eased forward from the backseat, glancing between them.
“Roger,” Elle breathed into the receiver. “Is he alone?”
“Negative,” Arran replied. “I count four vampires reporting to Markus. No sign of Marguerite. But there is a woman with him.” Elle’s heart turned over in her chest, and a wave of nausea swamped her. The question stuck in her throat, but she had to know. Please, God… She didn’t know how to finish that line. Did she pray, let it be her, or please not be her?
“What does she look like? Can you see her well enough to describe her to me? Does she match the photo?”
For several seconds there was no reply. “Arran, can you read me?” Elle looked to Kenric.
“Give him a minute,” Emily said and rested a hand on her shoulder. The line crackled again.
“The woman is about five feet five, long black hair. Petite. Similar to the photo.”
Oh God. Her fingers curled, tightening. It was Alex. It had to be. She had to get her out of there. Elle lunged for the door handle. Suddenly, Kenric’s arms were on her shoulders, and he yanked her back.
“You can’t go in there,” he commanded, his voice hard at her ear.
“The hell I can’t. That’s my sister.” She swallowed the sob that wanted to follow on the heels of her words.
“And if you want her to stay alive, you’ll stay the hell out of there.” His hand slipped from her shoulders, and she screwed her eyelids shut. Her chest hurt. Alex was a few hundred yards away. What if she was hurt, scared, and hoping that Elle would come for her? If there was a sliver of a chance she could get Alex out of there tonight, she had to take it.
Static in her ear signaled another communication. “Kenric, this…Logan. My…piece…functioning…it.” Most of his words were missing, but Elle got the message. His comm device needed swapping out. Perfect.
“I’ll take this,” she said to Kenric, who watched her like a parent with a rebellious child. She sighed. “I’ll be at the back of the vehicle. He needs his comm unit replaced.” He lifted his chin in acknowledgement. “Pop the trunk’s latch.”
Kenric nodded and reached for the lever. “Replace his unit, then haul your ass back here.”
She added a sharp salute at her temple. “Yes, sir.” Kenric rolled his eyes, then went back on the comm with Guerin.
Logan was already waiting for her as she rounded the back of the SUV. “How are you doing? I couldn’t make out most of the conversation between Arran and you, but does the woman sound like your sister?”
She shrugged. “The description was so vague, it’s hard to know for sure.” Elle dug her hand inside the bag in the trunk, keeping her gaze averted while she searched for another comm unit. She was a terrible liar. And she’d never keep her face straight if she looked him in the eye.
“I see,” he muttered behind her. With a new device in hand, she popped in a fresh battery and swapped his old one out. After a quick test, he leaned in for her ears only. “Don’t do whatever it is you’re thinking. Be smart, lass.” Logan brushed her cheek with his lips, and then he was gone. Her fingertips glided over the ghostly tingle left behind on her cheek. An uneasiness twisted inside her. It was a crazy idea, but she was going to lose her mind if she didn’t find out for sure.
Elle glanced through the vehicle. Kenric was focused on his conversation with Guerin and Emily. They were plotting the best possible scenario to take out Markus’s men. Good. She repositioned the bag in the trunk. Now was her only shot. Leaving the hatch open, she crept to the side of the SUV, darted across the street, and then between a row of hedges. Through the warriors’ communication, she knew each one’s position and avoided them like land mines.
Moving as fast as her human legs could carry her, she ran to the front of the club. She only had seconds before Kenric would notice she was gone. The door to the club had barely closed behind her when a curse nearly singed her ear. “Gabrielle Stevens, I swear when your ass comes out of that club, it’s mine.”
“You won’t have to worry about that, Kenric,” Arran’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. “Because when I find her, she’ll wish she’d stayed with you.” The thick brogue that rolled off Arran’s tongue sent a shiver down her spine. For more reasons than one. He was pissed. And he was coming for her. She wasn’t sure if her chills were from anxiety or excitement.
It wasn’t easy, trying to stay lost in a crowd and manage to see where you’re going at the same time. But that was the only way she was going to be able to maneuver through the club unseen by Markus and Arran. She stayed close to the flow of bodies around the bar, making her way to the opposite side of the room and to a cluster of tables and booths. The last comm had stated Markus and his guest had settled at a booth against the back wall facing the dance floor. Arran would be watching and waiting for her, knowing that would be her target. She just needed one glimpse. That’s all. To know for sure if her sister was still alive.
The club was packed. It was difficult to tell where the dance began and where it ended. The crowd swayed to and chanted along with Marilyn Manson and his lyrics about bloodstained sheets. They seemed almost enchanted by the message within the song, as if they were part of the choir that prayed at his altar. Oh God, she had to get her sister out of here.
Finally, she reached the other side of the bar. When the crowd parted for a split second, revealing the hallway leading toward the back entrance, she made a break for it. So far, so good.
The wall provided the cover she needed to peer around and check out the patrons seated at this end of the club. With the strobe lights and the red glow of the lamps, she could barely see the shadowed angles of the people huddled inside the booths. But there was no mistaking one profile: Markus. A woman with long, straight, dark hair sat with her back to Elle. Please turn around. As if the woman had heard her plea, she rose and stood before Markus. She smoothed the sides of her red mini dress as she stood before him, then began to rock her hips, dancing for him. The woman arched her back and slid her hands under her long hair, and then allowed it to fall like cascading black water down her back. She turned, and for the first time, the face of the dancer was revealed.
“No.” She shook her head in sharp denial.
Her body trembled. Please, no. She was going to be sick.
“Alex,” she whispered. Without thinking, she stepped forward into the crowd.
A large hand came from out of nowhere and clamped hard across her mouth. Her feet left the floor, and she flew backward. Down the hall. Her heart lurched into her throat. A door banged, and she caught a glimpse of a urinal as her captor spun her around. The men’s bathroom? Her rear slammed against the backside of the door, and Arran’s face appeared about an inch from hers.
“My God, Gabrielle, do you have a death wish?” His brea
th was hot and spicy against her face, his body hard against hers. “Or wish to see me dead?”
“What? No!” She had to give her head a quick rattle to focus on his words. “Of course I don’t want to see you dead. What are you saying?”
“You almost walked in front of Markus. And if he had seen you, he would have tried to have you killed. But they would have had to come through me first.” He reached up, lifted her chin with his fingers, and ran his thumb gently across her lower lip. “Don’t do anything like that again.”
The trembles that had started in the hall ramped into high gear under his touch. Her lip quivered, and her eyelids closed. The image of her sister, dancing in red leather for Markus, blazed to the front of her mind.
“It’s her.” Her eyes shot open. “The woman with Markus is Alexandria.”
Arran pulled his hand away and rocked back. “Are you absolutely sure?”
She nodded. “I know my sister when I see her.”
“Fuck!”
“We have to get her out of here, before you kill Markus. And I want him hurt for what he’s done to her,” she rumbled. “Did you see what he was forcing her to do out there?”
“It’s not going to be that easy.” Arran ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back. He tilted his head, giving her a look that made her stomach churn. She wasn’t going to like this.
“Spit it out, MacLain. What the hell are you not telling me?”
Reaching behind her, he locked the door, then straightened. He looked like a man who wished he could pay someone else to deliver his news. “God, Arran, just tell me. How bad can it be?” She shrugged. “My sister is alive.”
“Not really, kitten. I’m sorry”—he grasped both sides of her head and speared her soul with his words—“she’s not the sister you remember anymore. She’s a vampire.”
This wasn’t happening. She’d found her. Alex wasn’t dead. No fucking way was she a vampire. Elle was shaking her head, but Arran was holding her, stilling her movements. She wanted her sister back. The one she remembered. Her heart ached so damn bad. A sob escaped from her throat, and her vision clouded. She blinked away her tears, but they kept coming, rolling down her face. The callous pads of his fingertips brushed her cheeks as if they were trying to catch each one. “I’m going to kill him.” Elle didn’t even recognize the vicious tone in her voice. But she meant every word. “Do you hear me? I will kill him for what he’s done to her.”
“I know, lass. And I’m right there with you. But there’s something else you need to know before we strike.”
She sniffed and took a deep, calming breath. “What?”
He smoothed her hair with his palms, then eased back.
“I was watching him before you came inside. From the way the woman, your sister, responds to him, and for lack of a better word, the way she doesn’t respond to anyone else, Alex is a mental prisoner of Markus. He is in every way her master.”
Elle couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around the hell her sister must have endured since she’d fallen into Markus’s hands. Her head pounded. “What does this mean for her? What happens to Alex if we kill Markus?” She had a very bad feeling she already knew the answer to that question.
His throat worked once before answering. “There’s a good chance that when he dies…Alex will go mad.”
“Oh God!” Her head hit the door behind her with a thump. She was half tempted to bash her skull into it over and over again, until somebody shook her, telling her to wake up, that all of this had been a bad dream. Argh! Both of her hands balled into tight fists. She’d been robbed. Robbed and cheated out of getting the chance to rip Markus’s head off with her own bare hands. Bastard.
Elle rocked her head forward. Arran appeared almost as tortured at having given her the news as she probably did from hearing it. “Can this be undone?”
He nodded. “He can release her mind. If he chooses.”
“Then we can’t kill him until he does.” She sprang from the door and gripped him by his biceps.
“And how do you expect us to get him to do that? Are you going to go up to him and just say, please?”
Elle shoved him in the chest. “Don’t be such an ass.” She went around him and over to the sink. With a twist of the knob, she turned on the cold water, grabbed a paper towel, and wet it. She placed the damp towel to her face, then around her neck, and closed her eyes. The cool water felt nice, refreshing. “There has to be a way around this,” she murmured.
Slowly, she lifted her eyelids. In the mirror, Arran stood behind her, watching. His eyes followed the movement of the towel as it circled her neck and then as she dipped it between her breasts. He jerked his gaze away but halted the moment their eyes met in the mirror. Her mouth suddenly lost all its moisture. He looked…hungry. Starved. And dammit if things were different, if they were in different time and place, she would give anything to be the one to satisfy his appetite.
Arran’s throat worked as if he too found it hard to swallow. Then all of sudden, his hands were on her shoulders, and he was spinning her around. “I have an idea,” he said, once he had her facing him. “But first.” He took her hand. “Come with me. I’m getting you out of here.”
…
Two seconds later, Arran and Gabrielle rematerialized inside the back of Kenric’s SUV. He scanned the interior of the vehicle and their perimeter. They were alone. Gabrielle groaned beside him. “I hate that feeling,” she said, then leaned closer and punched him in the arm.
“Ouch.” He rubbed his upper arm with an exaggerated grimace.
“One second you’re whole, and then the next, you’re coming apart in this sea of blackness,” she said, whipping her arms around in an animated display of being phased. “And then boom, you’re yanked back together right before the contents of your stomach reach the back of your throat. In other words”—she turned and her amber irises flashed in defiance—“do that again without warning me first… I’ll have to hurt you. Bad.” Her eyes narrowed on him like some wicked Dom.
Arran’s cock roared to life. And before his mind could process the act, he had her back pressed to the passenger door. His fingers dug into her hair and tangled themselves within it. His lips were against hers. “Kitten,” he whispered at her mouth. “Don’t promise me things you’re not willing to deliver.”
“Who said I wasn’t willing?”
Lightning burned a path down his spine, and his balls drew tight. Fuck. He was going to lose it right here on top of her. Arran groaned and sealed his mouth to hers. She opened for him, and their tongues brushed. She tasted so damn good. He wanted to lose himself within her, dive inside, and never resurface. She was everything his life was missing. The light at the far end of the dark tunnel he’d been wading through for longer than he could remember.
The heavy thump of a fist against the passenger window jerked his head away from hers. He muttered a curse under his breath. Kenric and Emily stood on the other side of the door. Arran dropped his gaze back to the beauty beneath him. “We’ve got company.”
Gabrielle muttered something under him that sounded like move your ass and pushed at his chest. He maneuvered back into a sitting position, allowing her to do the same. As soon as she’d cleared the door, Kenric yanked it open.
“When you got your tongue back out of her throat were you planning on letting the rest of us know she was safe? And you…” Kenric’s hard glare rolled to Gabrielle. “If you defy my orders like that again…”
A growled erupted from Arran a second before he launched over Gabrielle and was standing outside the car between her and Kenric. “You. Do not threaten her,” Arran warned. “You have a problem with her, you come through me.” Silence hung like a dense fog around them, so thick, he could have sliced it with his blade. Out of the corner of his eye, Arran didn’t miss the subtle movement of Logan and Guerin as they appeared on either side of them.
The Master of the Enclave lifted one brow, and then his face lit up with a fat grin. “Feeling a
little protective, Arran?” Kenric nodded. “Oh, my man, it only gets better from here,” he said, then chuckled. It was the last thing Arran had expected. What the hell?
Behind Kenric, Gabrielle climbed out of the vehicle. “Arran, stop please.” She positioned herself between them and turned her back on him. “Kenric, I’m sorry. I know it was a blatant disregard of your orders, but I had to know.” She glanced over her shoulder once, then returned to the elder vampire. “And I’m glad I did.”
“Why?” Emily came forward. “What did you learn?”
Kenric crossed his arms, and the others moved in. Gabrielle informed them of Alexandria’s unfortunate state, and of what Arran had told her regarding the risk to her mind if they were to kill Markus while she was still under his influence.
The Enclave’s Master released a curse. “Elle, I’m so sorry. But I promise you, we’re going to find a way to help your sister and make Markus and Marguerite pay for what they’ve done. . . to all of us.”
Gabrielle’s obvious pain gnawed at Arran’s heart. He couldn’t take her standing there without touching her any longer. Arran moved closer, reached out, and slid the palm of his hand down her arm and then clutched her hand. She didn’t pull away. In fact, she tightened her small fingers around his. His heart stuttered. God, this was so foreign. So awkward. But at the same time, so right.
Arran assessed the Enclave warriors around them, then pinned Kenric with his gaze. “I believe I have a plan that just may accomplish all of the above.”
Chapter Eleven
In the shadows behind one of the columns outlining the dance floor, Arran waited for the perfect moment. Markus and Alexandria sat side by side in a red leather booth only a few feet away. The three other Enclave warriors hovered out of sight, watching for Arran’s next move.
The fast beat of the music hammered against Arran’s chest but didn’t drown out the pounding of his pulse in his ears. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The moment he’d been waiting two years for was at hand. And he couldn’t fucking wait any longer.