My legs gave way under me and I slumped down onto the floor. My teeth were chattering and I wrapped my arms around my legs, trying to hug some warmth into my skin. This was more than physical coldness; the enormity of what Conal had explained was causing a chill that was more elemental, the result of shock and fear.
“You're cold,” Conal stated mildly.
I nodded mutely, still trying to come to terms with what Conal had explained At last I could see why I was of value to Armstrong and I could understand, even more clearly, why it was imperative he didn't get the information he wanted. “I don't know why it's freezing in here, when it's warm upstairs.”
“Armstrong is a master at torture. We're at least partially underground, which would keep the area colder than upstairs, but it's made of solid concrete and I imagine he has some way of keeping the temperature artificially cold. It's a very old torture method, the more discomfort you feel; the more likely you are to give him what he wants.” He held his arms open. “I'll warm you up.”
Wary of his intentions, I shook my head. How did I know he wouldn't attack me? I didn't even know him. He may appear to be on my side, but uncertainty still kept me wary.
“Please,” Conal said gruffly. “You're cold and I'm a werewolf. My body is naturally much warmer than a human is. I won't harm you; I give you my word. I need you capable of talking to me so we can try to find a way out of here. It will help you to think more clearly if you're warm.”
I crept towards him, watching him cautiously. He made no sudden moves, remaining perfectly still as I crawled between his legs in my own time. I stopped, uncertain of what to do next and Conal gently gripped my waist, turning me so my back was against his chest. He'd lifted me as though I was no heavier than a baby was and then dropped his arms around me, wrapping me in a cocoon of heat. I closed my eyes, relishing the warmth and relief drifted over me as I began to thaw out.
Conal permitted me a few minutes of peace as the heat spread through my body and I sagged further against his chest, feeling safer than I had in days.
“Now, I've told you what I've been able to work out. I need you to tell me everything you know, so I can try and figure out a way out of here,” he announced, his voice rumbling through his chest against my back. It was both comforting and reassuring.
I told him the whole story, from beginning to end. I wasn't sure if I could trust him completely, but he was the only person in whom I could place any faith. He knew my secret, what point was there in hiding anything else from him? I worked through everything from when I first met Lucas, being attacked by the vampire, my recovery with Dr. Harding's help. I told him about the other vampires returning to take revenge with the werewolf – and how my psychic abilities had sent the others to rescue Lucas and his friends. I worked my way through every psychic experience I'd had and continued through to the day of the wedding. When I'd finished, I lay expectantly against his hard chest, waiting for his response.
Conal took a long time to absorb what I'd told him, before he spoke. “You say he got Gerard DuBonet to infiltrate this Tine's place?”
I nodded. “He was there on the morning of the wedding. Told me he was the wedding planner. Do you know him?”
“I've come across him once or twice. He's a weasel. Always on the lookout for a way to make a fast buck.”
“He could tell what I was by touching me?”
“Yeah. He's able to read people, through touch. He would have been able to tell you had a psychic ability, but that shield you have – it's incredibly strong. He wouldn't have gotten past it. He's not that talented.” He lapsed into silence again, thinking. “These blood suckers – they've never attempted to create you?”
“No.” I didn't like him calling them bloodsuckers, he said it with such contempt, and it was obvious he disliked vampires. “I don't want to be a vampire.”
“That's usually doesn't stop the leeches. They don't feed on humans. You're sure about that?”
I nodded, aware of Conal's very warm skin against my back. “They have in the past, but they've all given up killing humans and survive on animal blood.”
Conal was thoughtful, his huge hands rubbing over my arms subconsciously. “It's hard to believe there are leeches out there that don't attack humans. I've never heard of it before,” he said doubtfully. “You're absolutely certain they don't kill humans?”
“Yes.”
“And this… Ripley? You say he has the ability to read minds. What distance can he read from?”
“I don't know,” I admitted. “But I've been trying to transmit information, hoping he might hear me.”
“If he's still alive.”
I pulled away from him, indignant at the suggestion they were dead. Despite what Armstrong had said, I wouldn't believe it. “I have to think they're okay.”
Conal reached for me, picked me up, and deposited me back into the warm gap between his thighs. “You need to stay warm. They'll come back for us soon and you need your strength.” His dark eyes were undecipherable as he gazed down at me. “I'm sorry I upset you. I even think you're possibly right. I can't imagine that fifteen shifters could kill two hundred and fifty people without someone having the opportunity to escape. The bloodsuckers are the obvious choice for survival; they would escape faster than the humans.”
I bristled indignantly, prepared to leave the sanctuary of his warmth again, but Conal forestalled me, wrapping his arms more tightly around my body. It didn't stop me from voicing my anger. “They would never leave the humans to fend for themselves. You don't know them.”
“Alright, alright,” he responded soothingly, rubbing his hands across my arms as he tried to placate me. “I'll try and see things from your point of view, but you've got to remember, werewolves and vampires are enemies and have been for millennia. It's tough to believe there might be some good leeches out there.”
“Stop calling them that! They are good people,” I announced angrily. “It will help them to find us if you'll tell me what you know about Armstrong and where we are, so I can try and get the information to Ripley.”
Conal rubbed my arms, pulling me closer to his chest. He didn't apologize for the leeches' comment, which annoyed me, but he was so warm and I relished the heat after being so cold, so I found myself willing to cut him some slack and didn't struggle to move away. His skin was smooth and firm against the exposed areas of my back and it was like lying against a sleek radiator. “Alright,” he finally said. He seemed to have made up his mind to trust me. “I did a bit of reconnaissance when they brought me in here, I couldn't see anything because I was blindfolded, but my sense of smell is good. There are at least twenty guards in the grounds and the building. I can't be exact, because there were too many scent traces, some new and some old. It's a rough estimate.”
“Okay.” I wriggled in his arms, turning so I could see his face. “What do you know about Armstrong?”
Conal frowned heavily, as if the question bothered him. “That's the strange thing about all of this. He's usually a two-bit hustler, has a hand in some casinos in Vegas, and runs half a dozen strip joints. Enough to make him money, but anything bigger and he's usually working for someone else.” Conal gazed down at me, his black eyes showing his puzzlement. “This is unusual for him. He's not gutsy enough to take on something like kidnapping.”
“What day is it?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I just wondered how long I've been here. They took me on Saturday. I thought it might… give an indication of our chances.” I didn't want to articulate what I was really thinking – if too much time had passed, Lucas was probably dead. They wouldn't be coming for me.
“It's Thursday. From the look of the sky when Armstrong removed the blindfold, I think it was late afternoon.”
Thursday. It was five full days since I'd been kidnapped. It seemed much longer.
“Where were you when they took you?” I questioned.
Conal inhaled deeply. “With m
y Pack, in Natchez, Mississippi.” He was rubbing my back and I shifted uncomfortably when his hand brushed across some of the bruising on my shoulder blades. “He's injured you badly,” he snarled angrily.
“It's not so bad, mainly bruises. He hits me when he gets angry,” I admitted quietly. I could see the deep cuts on his chest now I was lying across his lap, as he hadn't bothered to re-button his shirt. “He hasn't used his claws on me.”
“I can see that.” Conal gazed down at my face, lifting his hand to rub his thumb gently across the split in my lip and the cut on my cheek. “He doesn't want to do anything which would damage you enough to ruin his plans.”
I shivered under the gentle caress, pulling away from his hand to look up at him. His expression was neutral, but I wasn't comfortable with the tender touch, it was too intimate between a man and a woman who barely knew one another. “Do you know how long it took to be brought here from Natchez?”
Conal dropped his hand to my back, resting it against the curve of my hip. “A couple of hours, maybe a little more.”
“So where could we be?” My knowledge of geography was rudimentary at best; it had never been my favorite subject at school.
“I'm not sure which direction we headed in, I can only guess. Mississippi or Louisiana.”
I couldn't hide my dismay. “That doesn't cut it down much. Do you know where Armstrong is usually based?”
Conal sighed. “I don't know that much about him. I think he might live in Louisiana, but I don't know where. New Orleans, maybe?”
Two states was a huge area to search – how could anybody possibly find us? Despite my doubts, I added these new details to the information I was collecting.
“Why did you kill his brother?” The question was voiced before I'd had time to consider whether it should be asked or not – but this man had killed someone. I was imprisoned with him; it seemed like a reasonable question.
Conal's eyes glittered black and hard. “His brother raped one of my pack members. She met him in a bar in Jackson and he followed her home to her apartment and attacked her. Beat the crap out of her. I hunted him down and killed him.”
I shuddered, the visual picture he'd painted wasn't a comforting thought, although the reason he'd murdered could be justified. I wondered if I was being judgmental – I had a murder of my own in my background and couldn't throw stones.
We lapsed into silence; both deep in thought and my eyes began to close of their own accord while I mentally sent out my message to Ripley. Gerard DuBonet, Laurence Armstrong, warm and humid, twenty guards, Mississippi or Louisiana, possibly New Orleans. Gerard DuBonet, Laurence Armstrong, warm and humid, twenty guards, Mississippi or Louisiana, possibly New Orleans. A thought occurred to me, and I slightly amended the message. Gerard DuBonet, Laurence Armstrong, warm and humid, twenty guards, Mississippi or Louisiana, possibly New Orleans, Conal Tremaine is a werewolf and he's helping me.
Another question occurred to me and I voiced it. “Do you know why Lucas would tell them I was his mate?”
Conal was thoughtful for a minute before he answered. “Werewolves are dedicated to their partners. We mate for life. I imagine he assumed they were werewolves, not shifters. If I was kidnapping someone and I was told he or she was mated, I would have to reconsider my decision. I would never willingly part a couple who were mated. It's something we never do.” He paused, rubbing his hand across my hip as he thought. “Your Lucas probably hoped they would reconsider if he told them you were mated to him. I imagine it was a last resort to try and save you from being taken, it sounds like he had few other viable options at the time.” He dropped his gaze to mine, grimacing. “It was a risky move; he must have known they may… seek physical proof.” He cursed harshly; his voice low and I cringed at his choice of words. “Werewolves would never dishonor a female like that. It was reprehensible behavior, something only scum like shifters would do.”
We lapsed into silence for a few minutes and I wondered if he was partnered with someone. Although he wasn't married, perhaps he was already connected to someone in the special way he'd explained. “Do you have a mate?”
Conal smiled, shaking his head. “No, I don't. I'm the son of Lyell Tremaine, leader of the Tremaine Pack. I must choose another full blood werewolf to mate with, but I haven't yet found the one I would wish to mate with for life.”
I thought about what he'd said, wondering about a race… did you call them a race, if they were werewolves? Wondering about selecting one person and committing to them for the rest of your life. Given my background, it was an alien concept to understand that kind of commitment to another person. I drifted off to sleep, feeling just a little safer with Conal Tremaine's arms around me.
Chapter 6: Entanglements
The dream was strange, almost realistic in its intensity. There was a dog licking me, its tongue both rough and soft against my skin. The moisture against my cheek was even cooling as the cold air hit it. How could there be a dog in the room? The dream began to distort as I woke, realizing where I was and what, or rather who, was licking me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I wrestled out of Conal's arms and got to my feet, knew my eyes were blazing with fury. I couldn't believe he'd been doing something so… intimate, without my permission or knowledge.
Conal leaned back against the wall, his face an emotionless mask. His black eyes were serious when he spoke. “You're wounded. My saliva will help to heal your wounds.”
“You can't just go around… licking people!” I spluttered furiously. I was shaking from head to toe, infuriated by his calmness. “That's… well… it's rude, that's what it is! We don't even know one another!”
His eyes filled with amusement. “I think we probably know more about one another than most humans and werewolves ever do.” He got to his feet and it was only then, standing near him, when I realized exactly how very tall and muscular he was. “And you weren't complaining until you woke up. Up until that point, you seemed to be enjoying it.”
“I was not enjoying it!” Despite my denial, a hot blush rose over my cheeks.
“Alright,” Conal said calmly. “I apologize.”
For maybe a minute I glared up at him, trying to calm both my anger and ignore the fact that he was so handsome in a rugged, working class way and I was actually noticing it. I shook my head, trying to shake the thought from my mind and the anger dissipated rapidly as confusion took its place. How could I look at him and think handsome, when I was in love with Lucas? What was wrong with me?
He dropped down onto the mattress with his back against the wall and held his arms out, a silent invitation to return to the warmth he offered. I remained standing for a minute, trying to maintain the flicker of anger, but then my shoulders slumped in defeat. There was no point fighting with the one person who might be able to help me escape. I trudged across and sat down between his legs again, savoring the warmth, even as I tensed when my bare shoulder touched his chest. I thought about asking him to button his shirt, but decided not to bring the subject up.
“How long did I sleep?”
“An hour, maybe two.” Conal arched his neck to stare up at the dirty window. “I think it might be nighttime.”
I touched a finger to my cheek, brushing across the cut Conal had been licking. To my astonishment, it actually did feel better, certainly less painful than before I'd gone to sleep.
“I told you it would help,” Conal said quietly.
“How?”
Conal shrugged his broad shoulders. “Our saliva has healing properties. When we're in battle, we sometimes get badly wounded. Licking the wounds makes them heal much faster. Our saliva has anti-bacterial properties and an anesthetic quality.”
My voice was rueful when I responded. “A couple of months ago that would have sounded crazy.”
Conal smiled and I noticed the deep dimples in his cheeks. I found myself smiling back at him – the first time I'd smiled in days.
His smile disappeared too quickly, to be repla
ced by a deep frown. “I think they'll come for us soon. I've got no choice; I'll have to probe your mind again.” He gripped my waist in his hands and turned me effortlessly, so I was facing him. “I don't want to do it, it's extremely dangerous.”
“What could happen?” It was a question I didn't particularly want to hear the answer to, but I couldn't help but ask.
“You're the first human I've attempted it on. I've used it on others of my kind and shifters. It's killed some,” he admitted softly. “Others have been left psychologically disabled.”
I couldn't think of a single response. What could I say? What reply was there to make, knowing Conal was being forced to do something that could leave me disabled for life? “I don't suppose you can just pretend you're doing it?”
“Armstrong would sense it wasn't authentic.” He sighed, rubbing his hands across my arms. “If I don't make this realistic, make him believe I'm making progress, he'll be pissed. We're going to have to give him a little information, make him think it's working and he's getting closer to his goal.” His gaze flickered around the small room before he dropped his eyes to mine. “While you slept, I was thinking about getting us out of here. There are too many guards, I couldn't take them on by myself and protect you.” He paused, studying me carefully. “I wondered if we could use the spirits; get them to unlock the door? It might give us a chance; provide us with the element of surprise.”
“I don't think we can risk it. Armstrong can't learn about my power. It would be too dangerous if he understood what I could do. Besides, I've only made a spirit do something physical once. I can't guarantee it would work a second time.”
Conal nodded thoughtfully. “I'm certain you can do it again, Charlotte. But you're right, it's a bad idea.”
“Can't you just… turn into a wolf? Couldn't you fight him if you were a werewolf?” I asked hopefully.
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