Blood Captive: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (Vampire Huntress Chronicles Book 2)

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Blood Captive: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (Vampire Huntress Chronicles Book 2) Page 14

by Jessica Wayne


  But dreams have power, and they have long been associated with trips to the other side—what the Celts refer to as The Otherworld. A place that can become a permanent prison sentence if one were to stay too long.

  “She pulled me through, and then I woke up beside you this morning.”

  “You can’t recall the rest of the dream?”

  Rainey shakes her head. “That’s the end of it.”

  “Was it just last night?”

  Rainey nods. “That I can remember, at least. Honestly, with the way things are going and the lapses in time I’ve been experiencing, it’s possible there’s more to it.” Her eyes fill, and she raises her gaze to meet mine. “Do you think it’s possible it’s Delaney?” Rainey’s tone is hopeful.

  “I think we should consider all the options, but I believe that letting her pull you through is dangerous.”

  “You think it could be real?”

  “We shouldn’t discount the possibility.”

  Rainey nods and closes her eyes.

  “What is it?”

  She opens them and sighs. “The voices.”

  “Are they getting worse? What are they saying?”

  Her face scrunches as though she’s attempting to remember something or, at the very least, focus on an event that’s trying to evade her. “I can’t really recall everything they say to me, and the longer it’s been since I heard them, the fuzzier the memory gets. I didn’t think it was anything but exhaustion before. There was never any reason to since nothing else was physical.”

  “The scratches on your ankles sure as hell were physical. You woke up on the floor, remember?”

  She glares at me. “Of course, I remember that. Ever since Stella told us her theory, it’s been on my mind constantly.”

  “Rainey, this is serious. We can’t discount anything that’s happening. It could all be linked.”

  “I know. I’m not trying to keep anything from you. But everything’s been moving so damned fast; I can’t keep up.”

  I walk around the counter and rest my hands on her shoulders. “I know.”

  “Could Delaney be trapped? In the void? Maybe she needs help.”

  “You have to try to not let her pull you in. If it happens again. We need to know what we’re dealing with before anything else happens.”

  She nods in agreement, then sighs. “I’m not stupid, Elijah. I know something is wrong with me. I just have no damn clue what it is.”

  Her eyes fill, and she wraps both arms around herself. “I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind.”

  I move toward her now, reaching out and pulling her against me as I bury my face in her hair. “I won’t let you lose it,” I assure her although I have no damn clue how I’m supposed to protect her from herself. “I swear, Rainey, I will find out what’s in that box and put an end to whatever the hell is happening to you. Then, we’re going to track down whoever wants you dead and put their ass in the ground.”

  She pulls away from me. “And if you can’t?”

  “That’s not an option for me. Let’s look on the bright side. As of right now, you’re just spacing out for a time, which could absolutely be a sign of exhaustion. You haven’t harmed yourself, and so far, you haven’t tried to kill me again.”

  My attempt at a joke is lost on her, and she shakes her head. “Not funny, Elijah.”

  “I thought you had no issue killing me,” I narrow my gaze and grin at the memory. “Isn’t that what you told me? You’d behead me and leave me in the woods?” The afternoon Rainey first learned about what I truly am feels like lifetimes ago rather than a couple of weeks. Strange how time flies when you’re running for your life.

  “Things are different now.” She pulls away and heads into the kitchen. After retrieving the whiskey decanter from my counter, she grabs two glasses from the cabinet.

  Her expression is haunted, and I want to ease it. To take away all of the pain, the fear, to bring back the overly confident hunter minus her earlier death wish.

  “Because you love me,” I say with a grin.

  She nods and pours the whiskey into the glasses, offering one to me. “Because I love you,” she repeats.

  “You know I’ll do everything I can to protect you, Rainey. And to get to the bottom of who killed Delaney. If it was Lucy—”

  “We’ll kill her.” She downs the liquid in her glass and sets it to the side, bracing both hands on the island between us. “I want to rip her head from her shoulders,” Rainey growls. The anger—the rage—beneath the words is something new and unexpected.

  I’ve seen her mad, sure.

  Hell, I’ve been at the receiving end of one of her ass-kickings.

  But this is something new, something darker.

  “Rainey,” I whisper, but she doesn’t respond as she stares across the room at the wall behind me. “Rainey?”

  Still no reply. The black ring grows, nearly eclipsing the chocolate of her eyes. Her fingers clench, and the two-inch granite counter she’s resting her palms on cracks beneath the force of her rage.

  “Rainey!” I yell her name and slam both hands down on my side of the counter.

  She meets my gaze then, the black ring shrinking down to something barely visible. “What?”

  “Nothing.” I force a smile, not wanting her to become any more concerned. There will be time for that whenever we figure out what the hell is happening to her.

  Rainey reaches for the bottle to refill her glass and her gaze passes over the broken countertop. “Shit! Did I do that? I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t even worry about it.”

  “I don’t even remember breaking it.” She stares down at her hands, studying her unmarred palms.

  “You were pretty well focused on imagining yourself ripping Lucy McClough’s head from her shoulders. Assuming that’s who you meant by her.”

  “It was. I can’t believe she would do something like this, Elijah. She literally watched us grow up. Her and my grandmother were inseparable until my parents died.”

  “I wonder what changed.”

  “Maybe that’s when she got her seat on the council,” Rainey suggests. “Perhaps she decided she was too good for my family. Either way, I’m going to track her ass down tomorrow. Lucy may not realize it, but she just became suspect number one in the murder of Beatrice Smith.”

  “I take it you trust the information Josiah gave us?”

  She nods. “I don’t see any reason for him to lie. Though, I will be checking into him too.”

  “Your captain?”

  “Same. I don’t know her other than in a professional capacity, but she’s good at her job and has always backed us up when there’s been an issue with a case we’re working.”

  “Then, we trust them until we don’t,” I offer.

  “I think that sounds like a perfect plan.”

  “Have you been drinking the tea Stella gave you?” I ask and head for the tin sitting beside the stove.

  “Why didn’t you tell me she was an empath?” Rainey asks, and I turn to face her, leaning back against the counter.

  “Didn’t seem relevant.”

  “Really? Seems pretty vital to me.” She crosses her arms.

  “So is hearing voices,” I shoot back. “And you didn’t mention that until Stella brought it up.” Rainey sighs and nods.

  “Apparently, we both need to work on being more open with people we love.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And as far as the tea goes, I have been drinking it, and I’ll make more before I go to bed.”

  “That’s not what we’re doing?” I ask, eyebrow raised.

  “Not a damn chance, Vampire.” She takes a step toward me. “As you so eloquently pointed out last night, there’s no telling how long either of us has left. I’d rather not waste it on sleep.”

  Wrapping an arm around her waist, I tug her close. She’s absolutely right; there’s no telling how long either of us has left.

  Could be tomorrow.

 
Could be the day after.

  Could be a week from now.

  But I do know that someday soon, everything we’re facing now is going to come to a head, an abscess that will pop and bring all the buried secrets to light.

  We’re either going to survive it or burn.

  16

  Heather

  Rain hammers down upon me, falling from the heavily clouded skies above. I bask in it, turning my face up to absorb the drops.

  It has been a long time since I’ve experienced the cleansing rain.

  I cannot even count the years, the time having passed in darkness. I smile and roll my shoulders.

  Feed us, a voice commands.

  “Keep your bloody trousers on,” I scold. The street is empty, everyone turned in for the night, so as I stroll, I walk right down the center of the street, not worried in the slightest I might end up flattened by a vehicle.

  If they come for me, I’ll simply kill them. “I’m free!” I yell to the sky, twirling in a slow circle as lightning illuminates the darkness around me.

  Laughter bubbles in my chest, and soon it’s spilling from me as I skip, heading toward the source I began tracking the moment I stepped outside.

  Magic beckons to me from ahead. It calls, wrapping around me and enticing me with its sensual power.

  “Into the dark you go, my love. Into the dark you go. Together we’ll fall. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, my love, into the dark we go,” I sing it loudly, screaming from the top of my lungs as I push into a run.

  Water splashes up onto the legs of my trousers, soaking me to the bone, but I don’t care. My heart hammers beneath my breast, adrenaline surging through my veins.

  I’ve never felt this much pure power. It’s intoxicating.

  I slide to a stop, sending water flying in all directions as I stare at the front door of the small house. Lights illuminate the windows, and just inside, I see a group of women sitting in a circle. They are panicked, and I can hear each word laced with fear.

  Closing my eyes, I listen.

  “I saw it in a dream, Mal!”

  “Calm down, Diana. This isn’t the first time you’ve gotten things wrong.”

  “You don’t understand! This is different! The crows, they were there when I woke up!”

  “We’re going to be fine,” a third woman assures the others.

  “No, you’re not,” I whisper, opening my eyes. I can feel the coven’s power from outside the walls, and the need to possess it is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. Wiping the smile from my face, I stumble toward the door. “Help!” I yell, keeping my voice low enough to avoid alerting any of the neighbors. “Help me, please!”

  The door opens, and a petite redhead stares at me, her green eyes wide with surprise and concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “My boyfriend, he left me in the street after a fight. I’m so cold.” I don’t even have to muster up real tears since the rain is giving me the appearance of a drowned sewer rat.

  “Come in, honey.” She steps aside and lets me in, closing and locking the door behind her. “This way, let’s get you some tea.” The redhead guides me into the living room where two other witches stand. The blonde’s mouth is flattened in a tight line as she studies me warily.

  The brunette’s doe-brown eyes are wide with terror, not for me obviously—not yet, anyway. Scared, pathetic little bunny.

  “What are you doing?” The other brunette—a woman with a nose ring—scolds the redhead who brought me inside.

  “She needed help.”

  “We were kind of in the middle of something.”

  “I’m so sorry to intrude,” I say. “But this won’t take long.” I walk further into the house, studying the Celtic art decorating the walls. The redhead comes from an ancient line, and of all the others, she’s the most powerful.

  The other two might as well be magicians rather than witches. Their power is a dim light compared to the bright beam coming from their host. My fingers flex in anticipation. Soon, hers will be mine.

  “Let me get you some tea,” she offers.

  “No, that’s okay.” I grin at her. “How long have you been a witch?” I ask, curiously.

  All three women stiffen. “Whatever do you mean?” The redhead crosses both arms.

  “I recognize you as one.” In demonstration, I reach out a hand and call to the pillar candle perched atop a candlestick in the corner. It shoots across the room and into my palm, and the women gasp.

  “You have active magic,” the brunette whispers, and I nod.

  “Do you not?”

  “No. Cliona is the only one of us with an active power,” the blonde says, gesturing to the redhead.

  I wish I could say I was surprised. “Tell me,” I ask, walking toward the couch. “What do you know of the Lunar Divide?”

  “Excuse me?” Cliona shakes her head. “You need to leave.”

  “Who saw the crows?” I ask, and the brunette’s eyes widen.

  “How did you—”

  “I heard you through the window. You really should be more careful when discussing such sensitive matters. Anyone could hear.”

  The redhead’s face grows bright with anger. “You need to leave. Now.”

  I grin at her. “I don’t think so.” Reaching down into my boot, I withdraw a long, silver blade.

  The witches step further away from me. The brunette makes her move first. She turns and bolts for the door. Unfortunately, unlike the scared, pathetic bunny I compared her to, she doesn’t move fast enough.

  The blade meets its mark before she gets to the door, and the other two women scream when their friend falls facedown onto the ground.

  Cliona screams and flings her arm toward me. Her magic does nothing to me though, I simply close my eyes and absorb the power. “That’s delicious,” I whisper, closing my eyes and inhaling.

  The blonde stays put as I hold out my hand and recall the blade. It shoots across the room and meets the palm of my hand with little more than a whisper. The women stare at the blood dripping to the floor.

  “I truly hate that I must do this,” I say.

  “You don’t have to,” the blonde pleads. “We can pretend we didn’t see anything.”

  I shake my head. “You would do that to her? I thought little bunny was your friend?”

  “I don’t want to die,” she pleads.

  I pout. “I’m sorry, but you have to. I need to feed them.”

  17

  Rainey

  Fingers dance over the skin of my belly, teasing me awake. Rolling over, I peer at Elijah through partially closed eyes.

  He’s watching me with a grin, his ice-blue gaze on me. “Morning,” he says, his deep voice wrapping around me like a familiar blanket.

  “Good morning,” I whisper back, and he leans down, pressing his lips to mine.

  I’ve never had a man in my life who made me feel this comfortable—this whole—so quickly. Normally, it would make me wary, but with Elijah? I’m just enjoying the fall.

  Whether that makes me stupid or not—that is another question entirely. “How’d you sleep?” I ask when he pulls away.

  “Better with you beside me.”

  I can’t keep myself from grinning. “You always know the right thing to say, you know that?”

  “Do I?” he asks, leaning down and pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat. The scrape of his beard against my skin sends a shiver of desire up my spine, and I sigh, tilting my head to the side.

  “You do. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You can be a massive pain in my ass, but I rather enjoy you.”

  He pulls back and rests on an elbow, staring over at me. Hair around his face, he looks so damn normal—almost human. “Glad to hear I bring you pleasure.”

  I sit up, pushing the blanket to the side as I get to my knees and straddle him. Elijah grips my thighs with both hands, running his palms up and down the muscles. “You are not something I expected,” I admit honestly. “Loving you? It hit me hard and fast
, and I am not normally one to give into feelings this easily.”

  His face sobers, the grin disappearing. “I believe that feeling is quite mutual.”

  “That being said, I’m glad you came and sat next to me in that club.

  “Same. Though, I have to say I prefer you as a brunette.”

  I smile as he reaches up and toys with the ends of my dark hair for a moment before returning his hand to my thigh. “I’ve since retired that blonde wig. It got covered in alley waste when a vampire ripped it off my head.”

  His fingers tighten ever so slightly on my thighs, but they relax almost immediately. “I took great pleasure in removing his head for you.”

  “You did a damn good job.” I reach down and wrap my fingers around both of his wrists, lifting them from my thighs and pinning them to the bed above his head. Elijah’s body tenses, and he stills as I lower my head close to his face.

  His heavily tattooed torso rises and falls with each breath, and the sight of this powerful vampire beneath me—completely at my mercy—thrills me.

  “What are you planning to do with me then?” he asks, his voice deeper than usual.

  “A lot.” In demonstration, I grind my hips against his dick. He groans and closes his eyes, arching up into me. “But you have to promise me that you’ll keep your hands to yourself.”

  “But I’m good with my hands.”

  “Yes,” I say, chuckling. “You are very good with them. However, this is my time.” I let go of his wrists but hover above them, watching him intently. When he doesn’t move, I reach for the bottom of my shirt and pull it up over my head.

  He growls again—low and deep—the vibration seeping into me. His hands clench into fists, and I shake my head. “Don’t or I’ll have to punish you.” Leaning down, I press my lips to his chest, right above the heart that’s beating so damned fast now I can barely hear it.

  His skin is warm, soft beneath my lips, and I trail them down his body, sliding down his large frame as I go. I let my lips travel over the skin of his chest, down his abs until I reach the waistband of his shorts.

 

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