by Evie Byrne
Halverson smiled under his mustache. “Now why would your family think we have anything to do with your death? Our intelligence told us you and Miss Adad were fighting. And in fact, it looked like you’d been fighting before we got there.”
Mikhail bit the inside of his cheek. There was that. They might think he and Alya had killed each other.
“And Miss Adad doesn’t have any family to speak of—or at least that’s what we understand.” Anna Halverson smiled sweetly at Alya. “At least, not since your father disowned you for being a whore.”
Mikhail’s hands curled into fists. Halverson jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t look at my wife like that.”
“Tell your wife not to speak to my––” The word mate came to his tongue, the certainty of it surprising him. In an instant he recovered, rephrasing the sentence. “Tell her to apologize to Prince Adad.”
Halverson chuckled. “Sorry. Don’t think I can do that for you.”
“Don’t worry, Mikhail. I’m not impressed by apologies from filthy animal eaters.”
The Arabic tinge to her English came out under stress. It pained him to hear it. She was his mate, and he’d failed her back at the house. When she crept into his arms, exhausted and vulnerable, instead of making her safety his first priority, he’d fallen asleep. He couldn’t stand the thought of the sun blackening her skin. Lord, take me. Let her live.
“That’s enough.” Halverson put up his hand. “Each to his own, that’s what I always say. You think the way I eat is an abomination. We think the same of you. I’m not even going to exsanguinate you, Miss Adad. Or you, Faustin.”
“In a couple of generations, you will be animals,” Mikhail said with absolute certainty.
“We’ll see about that.” Halverson took his wife by the arm and popped a toothpick in his mouth. “We’ll just see.”
The vamp named Frank started to slink away.
“En joy yourself while you can, you sneaking rat bastard!” Alya called after him.
Frank stopped and turned around. He pointed at her, opened his mouth, then closed it again. His face flushed purple and he began to shout. “No more high and mighty threats from you, your royal bitchiness. No. It’s over. Sometimes the little guy wins. Like now. So…so…fuck you.” He gave her the finger, stepping backward as he did, ruining the effect.
Alya said, “I should have killed you for biting Jason Biggs.”
“You should have, ’cause I did it on purpose,” Frank said. “But I gotta go. Sun’s coming up. That always makes me a little, you know, edgy.”
Frank left his field of vision. Mikhail heard a door slam shut behind him.
Alya said to the Halversons, “I’ll give you all one more chance. Let us go, and we’ll call it even. Force me to take matters into my own hands, and I won’t answer for the consequences.”
Halverson laughed. “You’ve got a pair of brass balls on you, missy, I’ll give you that. But nope, best you both just die quietly, so we can sort out our own business in peace.”
Anna added, “Better than war, you know?”
Alya said nothing more. Mikhail said nothing. He wanted them to go, but they just stood around. Apparently they intended to stay out there until the last possible moment. Close to writhing with impatience, he forced himself to be still and profoundly uninteresting. They had to leave. If they left, Alya might be able to escape. The awkward silence grew and grew until the parents began to look like they might go inside, but then the boy plopped himself on the corner of the table.
“So, does that A on your chest stand for asshole?”
Alya let loose a long, trilling cry, as wild as a coyote’s, but far more menacing. Mikhail’s hair stood on end. The Halversons instinctively moved closer together. At the end of it, Alya gulped a huge mouthful of air and began to chant—pray—rant—he didn’t know what, because it was in Arabic. It sounded like a curse. Her chains creaked and groaned as she rocked against them, her words fast and husky with emotion.
Anna Halverson mustered a weak smile. “Well, time for us to go in.”
Mikhail twisted to see Alya. She leaned against her chains, snarling and spitting as she screamed, her eyes burning. He’d go inside, too.
“Wish it could have been otherwise,” Halverson said to him.
“No you don’t,” Mikhail said. “If you did you’d let us go.”
“Got me there.” He touched his forehead in a brief salute and ushered his family off the roof.
“Have a nice day,” Anna called from behind him.
When the door slammed closed, Alya stopped ranting. “I thought they’d gloat until we were ash.”
“What did you curse them with?”
“I don’t know any curses. I was just making shit up.”
Mikhail grinned. He enjoyed smiling, now that he’d remembered how to do it. “How long until sunrise, do you think?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“That building to the east will shade us from the first rays, give us a few minutes more. Can you get out?”
Alya had always been an escape artist. When she was a teen, she’d had a poster of Houdini on her bedroom wall. Every bit of his hope rested on this memory.
“I’m working on it. What about that thing they’ve got you in? It looks like they bought it at a Star Trek convention.”
“Wish they had. I know this manufacturer. These are state-of-the-art locking mechanisms. They can’t be picked or broken.”
“What if I smashed your hands and feet? Could we pull them through the cuffs?”
His toes curled at the idea, but he liked her thinking. She would have been a good wife for him.
“Not going to work here. The cuffs contract automatically. They keep constant pressure on whatever is inside them.”
“Fucking hell.” He didn’t know if she meant his situation, or if she was just struggling with her chains.
“Alya, what are the odds you can escape?”
“Not too bad. I’m going to dislocate my shoulder. I don’t see any cameras. Do you?”
“No, but they could be around. We could be miked. There could be lookouts in the adjacent buildings.”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” He heard her grunt and a length of chain clanked to the ground. “Progress.”
“Excellent.” If she could escape, he knew what he had to do. The horizon glowed purple. “I’m going to finish the story.”
“Roland and Illysia? Now? Ow! Son of a bitch.”
“You’ll understand.” Mikhail rushed through the story as fast as he could. “Roland found her at last. She’d taken shelter in a monastery. He came to her a walking skeleton, repentant as hell, but he came too late. She was dying.”
“Dying?” Another chain hit the ground.
“She’d eaten poison mushrooms. It doesn’t matter. Point is she accepted Roland’s apology. And she gave him a choice. Either die with her, or drink of her and be free.”
“‘Drinking of her’ is what fucked him over to begin with.”
“The choice she offered was to drink her to the dregs. Take her soul.”
“He wasn’t a prince, she wasn’t a combatant. He had no right to do that.”
“He was her bound mate. Listen to me. One mate can free themselves from the bond by exing the other.”
Even the chains went silent while she considered that.
“You understand? If you swallow the soul, you won’t pine for it.”
In a quiet voice she said, “You could have done that right off. You could have finished me by the pool and walked away.”
Mikhail jerked against his cuffs in frustration. “No! Well, yes. I could have. But that’s not the point right now. Not at all.”
“Hold on a second. I’ve almost got it.” Then lower, to herself she said, “This is going to hurt.” He heard a soft pop, and she shouted, “Motherfucker! Cocksucking Minnesotans! Goddamn them!”
Suddenly she was above him cradling her arm, tightlipped with pain, but free. “Open your hand
,” she said. “Hold this.” She put her elbow in his palm. He clamped his fingers around it, and she used the leverage to pop her arm back in its socket.
When it was done she sighed and smiled at him gratefully. The beauty of her smile took his breath.
Her gaze lingered a beat too long on his face, and then she turned away, coloring. She made a show of trying out her arm. “All better. Now how are we going to get you out of this?”
“You’re not.”
“No?”
“Adrenaline can only get you so far. You have no weapons.”
“I’ll take a length of chain.”
“And they have guns.”
“Maybe they cleared out. Maybe there’s no one down there.”
“I doubt it. They won’t go until they know we’re ash.”
“But I need Halverson to open this lock.”
“Give it up. I want you to think about yourself. How are you going to make it past them? Think. They’ll be in there, the three Halversons and five others that I know of, probably more. All men. All strong. And you’ve been tapped, Tasered, shot—”
By me. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his head against the table.
“Mikhail!” She slid her hand beneath his head. “Don’t. I’m going to get you out.”
“No. You’re not. This is my fault. I’m going to get you out. Listen to me.” He held her eyes. She had to understand. “You’re going to make Roland’s Choice. You’re going to ex me.”
She blanched.
“It will give you the strength you need to get out of here. And if you take my soul, you’ll not suffer afterward.”
“Not suffer?” She shook her head. “No. That’s not even an option.”
“I’ll live on inside you.”
“I’ll get Halverson. I’ll make him—”
“Alyaushka.” He used his old pet name for her. “I know how strong you are, but you’re outmanned and outgunned.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Then we’ll both die.”
“You underestimate me.”
“I understand odds. You know it’s the only logical plan. Tap my strength. Get out of here, however you can. Go home, get your men, call my family and rain hell down on these people.”
She stared at him, trying to break his resolve, but he just stared back, knowing he was right. Somewhere, a bird began its morning song.
“There is no time!”
Alya turned toward the mountains, as if some last hope might be found there. A second later she turned back, her jaw set. “Okay.”
Mikhail let out the breath he’d been holding.
She leaned over and kissed him fiercely, her hands deep in his hair. This was right. It would work.
She climbed up on the table and crouched over his body. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to do this.”
“Lust.”
They’d both ex’d at the climax of a fight. The passion of violence helped drop the inhibitions against cannibalism. Lust would work the same way.
“Lust? You’re feeling lust now?” She wiggled backward. “Oh. So you are.”
“You’re on top of me. Naked.” That was incitement enough, but strangely, he found that the idea of imminent death aroused him. The cuffs and the smooth steel at his back aroused him. The prospect of her bite aroused him.
“You’re disturbed. I’ve said it before.”
She didn’t even begin to know. The things you learned about yourself when you were dying.
He lifted his head to meet her kiss. He closed his eyes and savored the taste of her mouth, remembering the powerful ambrosia of her blood, and how it warmed his throat and blew open his mind. She took hold of his cock. He was so ready. He groaned aloud and thrust into her fist. “Hurry.”
She spat into her hand, rubbed her spit on the head and then guided him in. Her brow creased as she settled over him. She wasn’t ready. But she bit her lip and wiggled until she took him anyway. He couldn’t repress another groan as he sank into her heat. “Okay,” she whispered, “I’ve got it.”
Mikhail said, “Tell me when to come.”
He meant to remind her of her wicked blowjob. It might have worked, because she turned slick and took him deeper. With the first hints of pink breaking over the horizon, she began to ride him.
She ran her palms over his chest and pinched his nipples hard. He jerked under her. But then she stroked the pain away and gave him a sad smile.
“You’ll come when I bite you.”
He smiled to reassure her. But instead of reassuring her, it made her cry. She didn’t sob, but tears flowed down her cheeks. He wished he could wipe them away, but all he could do was watch her fight her embarrassment, lock down her emotions and transform herself into a predator.
And it was this predator, not Alya, who fell upon his throat.
Play biting was highly stimulating, and once started, it took an iron will to back off. Each vamp had a point of no return, and she was racing toward it. In no time, her nips became more aggressive, the licking more frantic, the kisses bruising. Her hips rocked faster and faster. She was losing control—and he loved being devoured by her.
This is an excellent way to die.
She growled low in her throat. The sensual, satisfied sound curled around his spine.
One of her hands slid behind his neck, lifting his jaw skyward, exposing his veins and arteries. Her scratchy tongue traced his neck. Her sucking kisses called up his blood. He went lightheaded, loose limbed and warm. No wonder feeders begged for it.
She jerked upright with a short cry, climaxing fast and hard. Just as fast, she swooped down and ripped open his throat. The pain jolted through him, spurring his release. As he ejaculated, she began to suck. He flowed into her. His spirit soared free.
“Misha.” There was no holding back from her, no secrets, no half-truths. Her consciousness flowed into him and saw all of him. At the same time, everything he ever was or hoped to be rushed to join her.
“If there’s a child, I’ll keep it.”
A child of theirs. He’d never even considered...
Her inner voice pushed into his reverie. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Outside he heard her swallowing convulsively. His heart lurched crazily, trying to compensate for blood loss. Fascinating. What had she been saying? She was sorry for something that happened a thousand years ago. It didn’t matter.
She was still drinking, but she was crying again. He smelled her tears. They made him thirsty. He wished he could have tasted her one last time. Dying under her mouth was like sinking into a velvet void. Summoning his strength, he opened his eyes to see blazing wisps of orange clouds reflected in the windows of the skyscrapers.
“Finish. Go.”
Alya tore a fresh hole and sucked viciously. The black closed in gently.
Chapter Nine
Mikhail flowed through her, icy and powerful as a river roaring out of the mountains. She’d known all along that it would come to this. That she would kill him. But now that the time had come, she hated it. He belonged in the world. He deserved to live.
But his blood leapt into her mouth, insistent. She didn’t even have to suck. His strength renewed her, giving back all he’d taken and so much more. His goodness staggered her. She rubbed up against it, hoping some of it would rub off.
Alya knew exactly how much blood she could take from anyone before she did harm. Mikhail had reached that point. He slipped into unconsciousness, but still his blood sang, yes, take me.
He was perfect and beautiful. His dying thoughts were of her. He loved her. As if she deserved it. As if she’d done anything decent in her life.
The compulsion to finish the kill was strong, almost too strong, but she tore her mouth away. With a few quick strokes of her tongue she halted his bleeding and paused, gasping, confused, her head and heart brimming.
I’ve got to save him.
She had no plan. No hope at all, really. More than likely she’d be dead within five minutes. B
ut if there was even a sliver of a chance that she could get him out too, she had to try. And if she failed, well, with any luck he wouldn’t wake before the sun hit him.
Resolved, she sprang off the table and grabbed a six-foot length of chain.
Mikhail was with her. Not his consciousness, but his essence, unabsorbed and unsettled. Like a drop of dye spreading in pure water, it tinted everything she did. His caution tempered her recklessness. On her own, she would have rushed the building. Instead she crept through the door on assassin’s feet, descended a few stairs and entered a long hall, her senses prickling. There were guards at the end of the hall, she could hear them talking. A TV blared in the room to her right, and men shouted at it. She recognized the sound of sports. Using her finer senses she took a second sweep of the area and realized a single vamp was in a room to her left. Quiet. Maybe sleeping.
She slipped into that room, hoping to find Halverson, and walked straight into the butt of a rifle. The blow to her forehead bounced her off the nearest wall. Anna Halverson spun the rifle around for a killing shot.
Alya swung out with her chain and caught Anna’s leg by either chance or luck, because she couldn’t see straight. But she felt the chain grab hold and she yanked hard. Anna fell on her back and Alya was on her.
Unable to shake images of the sun igniting Mikhail’s flesh, Alya wasted no moves. She strangled Anna with the chain and claimed her gun. The room contained another treasure: an acetylene torch. With the chain around her neck, the gun across her back and the torch in her hand she crept back into the hall and began to set the place afire. As the smoke spread, the men came out to investigate. There were more than Mikhail had guessed. She picked them off one by one, first with the rifle, then with the chain, and then with her bare hands.
“Halverson!” she called, retreating to the stairs, hoping to lure him out to the roof.
Gunnar attacked out of nowhere, pushing her out the door. A cloud of black smoke rolled with them, obscuring the morning sky. He was brave, but he was just a boy. In a couple of moves she had his arm wrenched behind his back.