by Irina Argo
She couldn’t even feel Arianna, though she should’ve been able to, since surely Arianna wasn’t shielding given what they’d done to her, not to mention the weakness from blood loss. It occurred to Simone that whatever they’d done had made her sister stop emitting Amiti energy in the first place. She wondered if it would ever come back. What if she could never find Arianna again, even with the blood-bond?.
The helicopter’s throb dimmed and then dissolved completely, the sounds of the jungle around Simone loud in the new silence.
Simone felt utterly isolated and helpless, as though she’d been sucked into a vacuum. Who was she kidding? She was isolated and helpless: even her captors had abandoned her, taking Arianna with them, and now she was alone, in the middle of nowhere, restrained, blindfolded, naked, robbed of her life-force.
And —she realized, as hunger reared up inside her—dying from bloodlust.
Chapter 15
Simone let herself lie there for a decadent moment of self-pity. Then she struggled to her feet, forcing her senses to fire up and tune into her surroundings. The good news was that sudden bloodlust was often a sign of the body working to heal itself, so she felt a little less weak now.
The other good news was that even blindfolded, she had a perfect orientation system. She sensed the buildings to her left, headed directly toward them, located the door on the first one, and ... found it locked. Struck by sudden inspiration, she rubbed the side of her head against the doorframe, gradually dislodging and removing her blindfold. Ah, much better.
Looking around, she saw a small cluster of bungalows at the perimeter of the little village ... settlement ... whatever. Maybe they’d be unlocked—or if they weren’t, they’d probably have open windows, or weaker doors than the more industrial buildings. And, jackpot!—the first door was unlocked.
She went into its kitchen and began the incredibly awkward process of finding the knife drawer, extracting a knife from it, and sawing through the restraints.
She’d taken so many different classes in her campaign to win over Antar—it would’ve been great, really great, if just one had covered How to break through rope when your hands are tied behind your back. Just one. That’s all it would have taken.
Finally the rope broke. She shook out her crampy hands and arms and looked around.
Beyond the kitchen was a standard one-room Amazon cabin, all wood and sturdy rope, furnished with a table, two wooden chairs and a single bed. The bed had been stripped completely bare, down to the wooden slats that supported the mattress—or would have, if there’d been one. Simone looked around more closely. Other than the furniture and a handful of kitchen utensils, there was nothing at all in the bungalow. The asshole and his pride were covering their tracks, eliminating anything that would leave their scent behind.
Now what? She plopped down into one of the chairs and stared unseeingly at the tabletop. She imagined it covered with food, like—oh, don’t go there!—warm feijoada, or a huge pizza loaded with toppings, or a fat, juicy cheeseburger, cooked rare, oozing when she bit into it. Hunger knifed through her gut. A vision of Arianna’s golden neck blossomed in her mind, the pulse jumping along her sister’s vein—she could even hear the liquid pumping sound it made. Then, abruptly, the vision changed, and she saw Arianna as she’d last seen her, caked with blood, her usually warm skin drained of all color, that pulse barely visible.
When the dry heaves came to take over her body, she actually spoke to them: “Nothing to throw up. Fuck off!”
For a while, she just sat there. Then the press of the wooden seat on her butt reminded her that she was naked ... in a goddess-forsaken jungle bungalow, without even a scrap of cloth to cover herself. And had been drained of her blood, lost Arianna, had her life-force stolen, and been mated to an unknown monstrosity, who now held in his hands her life and her father’s—and would end up killing at least one of them. Oh, and also? She was insane and talked to her own dry heaves. And she was going to starve to death, die of bloodlust—or die first from lack of water.
She was going to die. She wanted to die.
She carried herself the short distance from the chair to the bed, stretching her body along its hard, rough planks. Exhaustion draped over her like a blanket. She made one last effort to think, to come up with a plan ... and sank into a mercifully dreamless sleep.
She awoke, to moonlight, and an allover body-ache, and the now-constant bloodlust. Shaking, she got up and staggered into the kitchen, finding a jug of water on the kitchen counter. She stared at it for moment, measuring her odds—of survival, of being stuck here, of finding other water—then chugged half and returned to the bed.
She was waiting. Half of her was waiting for Antar and the other Legacy guys to show up. There was no doubt that they’d be searching for her and Arianna. If anything happened to her, they’d have to answer to the King. They’d turn every square inch of the jungle upside down to find her; if need be, they’d bring in reinforcements, mobilize local werepacks. She just had to stay alive long enough for them to find her.
The other half was waiting to die. That half was sure they’d never find her. It knew she was going to die and wanted to get it over with.
It didn’t matter which side she listened to; going back to bed was as good an alternative as any. So she did.
One day—or maybe it was just hours later; she had no idea—she woke to a loud crash and sunlight flooding the room. Cracking her eyelids apart, she saw a dark figure backlit by the sunlit doorway.
“Antar.” Safe! She was safe, thank the Goddess.
He swept into the room and knelt by the side of her bed, running his hands over her naked torso, her limbs, checking for injuries. Through her relief at being rescued, she felt a rush of humiliation. He was finally getting to see her naked—and she was sure she looked like shit.
He’d reached her hands, held them up, examining the raw patches on her wrists. They should’ve healed almost immediately, but they hadn’t: her body had put all of its scant energy into keeping her systems going, keeping her able to stand, to breathe.
She pulled her hands away. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” Her voice pushed out of her throat, sounding like something on an old-timey gramophone recording. Struggling to sit up, she felt the ends of her hair pulling against the scab on her throat.
She looked up at Antar again.
He was frozen, staring at her throat, eyes wide. “Oh God.”
It was the horror on his face that made her finally start to cry—in relief at being found, over the terror she’d felt during her capture and the ceremony, over Arianna’s wrecked body and what might be happening to her now, over the desolation she’d felt alone in the jungle, wounded and starving. And then, as Antar folded her in his arms, she cried at the pleasure of finally being held by him, and at the fact that that after all she’d done to make herself attractive to him, this was what it had taken for him to press his body against hers.
* * *
For the most part, Simone experienced the next few hours as a series of pleasurable sensations that she wouldn’t have traded for even the most high-end spa treatment. Antar holding her, crooning shh, shh as he stroked her hair. His gentle fingers tending to her neck and soothing the angry welts on her wrists. Being wrapped in a shirt that smelled like him and a warm, soft blanket. His arms lifting her and the surge of power as he launched them into the sky. The heat of his body as she flew with him, pressing her cheek into his bare chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as she watched the rainforest glide by below them.
And, when they got back to Aldeia Alada, the amazing sight of her bed, with a mattress, clean sheets, and fluffy pillows. A hot shower and the glide of soft pajamas against her skin. Stepping out of the bathroom to be greeted by the incredible fragrance wafting from an enormous, steaming blow of feijoada. The warm glow of Antar’s golden skin and chocolate eyes as he sat in the room with her, keeping her company as she ate sitting up in bed.
> The only thing that disrupted those sensations was the emptiness that wouldn’t go away. The emptiness of her memory as she tried without success to think of anything—anything—that would help them find her sister. The emptiness of the lonely, forlorn belongings Arianna had left behind in their room. And the memory of Arianna’s blank, empty eyes as she tilted her head to give her captors better access to her neck.
And the emptiness in her blood. She needed blood, lots of blood, and she needed it now. If she didn’t find a willing donor soon, she’d lose control and end up drinking an unwilling one—and she’d be in a world of trouble.
Chapter 16
“Sim, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
It was dark out, but moonlight streamed through the open window of her room. She was lying in her bed and Antar was sitting next to her. His warm, dark eyes glowed a little with reflected moonlight.
“Tell me.” He leaned in a little, eyes searching her face.
She had to tell him about the hunger. How else would she fix it?
“I need blood. Can you find me some?”
“You know the rule. No one is allowed to hunt humans here.”
“But—”
“But I know what to do,” he interrupted her, his voice dropping low. He leaned over her until the tanned expanse of his throat filled her vision. “Take my vein, Princess.”
“What? You’re Alpha. What would people think? You can’t sacrifice your blood.”
“I don’t care who thinks what. I care about you, and I want to feed you.”
Her blood lust exploded.
She curled her arms around Antar’s torso and pulled him close. When he pressed his neck up to her mouth, she could feel his steady pulse, his warm breath. With one powerful move, she switched their positions, straddling him, and slid her fangs into his throat. The exotic taste of winged demon’s blood—Antar’s blood—filled Simone’s mouth. For a moment he lay perfectly still on the bed, surrendering himself to her hunger and her lust, and then she heard him groan, felt his big hands sliding up her legs, until they reached the spot where her thighs met her hips, his thumbs hooking around to her inner thighs. Her core went liquid and she writhed against him as she drank, wanting those thumbs to move closer to her center, wanting Antar inside of her. He thrust against her and she ground back, savoring the hard bulge of his erection, the ridges and buttons of his jeans’ fly stiff on the taut fabric, her core slipping against her pajamas. She was ready to erupt; she needed Antar there ...
She woke up alone, drenched in sweat, raging with horniness—and with bloodlust beyond anything she’d ever imagined. Her whole body ached with it.
Simone stripped off her soaked pajamas and sat on her bed, staring out the window in a stupor. The rays of the rising sun highlighted the misty treetops with a beautiful pink glow. It was morning. She’d slept through the rest of the afternoon and through the night.
She heard helicopter engines in the distance: Girtab and his team preparing to leave for Manaus to pick up that day’s crop of tourists.
Tourists. Humans. Blood. Sharp as nails, the words hammered into Simone’s brain.
Three days ago, Simone would’ve scoffed at the mere suggestion that she might ever feed on a human. The Vampire Elite considered it terribly vulgar, beneath their dignity—not to mention bad for their health. Human blood could keep Sekhmi alive indefinitely, but it drained their powers and in the long run created health problems, like when humans lived on junk food. But right now? Her arrogance was gone, buried under a mountain of bloodlust. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she needed blood. Any blood. Right now.
The realization had her calling up all of her vampire speed, and within a few seconds she was dressed and out on the tarmac, charming Girtab into taking her along. A half hour later she was helping them pick up tourists in Manaus. Having been on the tour several times, she knew what was coming: they’d fly back to Anavilhanas, have lunch in the jungle in a small indigenous restaurant, and after lunch, the tourists would have some free time to relax. She’d do it then.
The predator in Simone was thrilled to be on a real hunt for the first time. There were no other thoughts in her brain, just the pure animal drive to catch her prey and satisfy her hunger. The bloodlust had even subsided, as though it knew she was trying to feed it and needed her brain for planning.
As planned, the group stopped for lunch at a cozy, secluded restaurant that jutted out on to the Rio Negro, affording a perfect view of the river and the colorful jungle foliage surrounding it. Several rough paths wandered along the riverbank or into the nearby jungle and were often used by tourists for after-lunch walks. The place was a combination of homey comfort and true wilderness. Tourists loved it.
While everyone took their seats at the tables on the terrace, Simone identified her prey: a young woman in her late twenties, fresh-faced, tidy, and traveling alone. With a friendly smile, Simone took a seat at her table.
“Hi! I’m Simone,” she introduced herself. “Do you mind if I share this table with you? I see you’re alone here. Me too.”
“Of course!” The woman returned Simone’s smile. “Please, keep me company. I’m Jennifer.”
They began chatting. A biology teacher from Louisiana, Jennifer was thrilled to come to this paradise and see all the wildlife firsthand. Simone feigned interest in biodiversity as they ate lunch and then when Jennifer finally set down her fork, Simone suggested that they check out a stand of unique plants just a few steps away from the restaurant. The two women followed one of the paths off into the jungle—and since their behavior was exactly what the tourists were expected to do, nobody paid any attention.
As soon as she had Jennifer alone, out of sight of the restaurant or the customers wandering around it, Simone turned to Jennifer and stared into her eyes, telling her to be still and silent, that she was about to experience something intensely pleasurable. Jennifer immediately froze, blinking at her serenely as though waiting for Simone’s next cue. Simone flinched inwardly at Jennifer’s vacant eyes—so like Arianna’s when she’d last seen her—and then in the next heartbeat Simone’s misgivings were gone and she was a hunter once again.
Her heart accelerating from anticipation, Simone captured Jennifer in a predatory embrace, fisting her hair to pull back her head, exposing her throat. She stared at Jennifer’s pulsating jugular and panicked. Dear Goddess, she’d never taken a human vein before—never even thought she’d ever do it. But then the predator roared inside Simone, urging her to strike. She remembered how she’d done it with Arianna, remembered her incredibly detailed dream of doing it with Antar—and, trusting her beast, she put her mouth to her prey’s throat and pierced the jugular.
At first she almost choked: human blood tasted awful, with nowhere near the delicacy, the purity, of Amiti blood, with its variety of unique aromas and flavors. But her bloodlust roared up again, this time beating her palate into submission, and she drank voraciously, savoring the fact of drinking if not the taste of the blood.
She was nowhere near satiated when Jennifer’s body suddenly went limp in her arms. What? Surely she’d only been feeding for a second, nowhere near enough to cause real harm. But when she pulled away and listened, there was no heartbeat. Irritated, she released her grip—dead blood was useless to her—and Jennifer’s lifeless body fell to the ground like a bag of sand. Simone stared at it with empty eyes, her brain refusing to process what had just happened.
“You killed her.” She heard the horrified whisper, felt the rush of air as Girtab blew past her and dropped to his knees next to Jennifer’s motionless body.
His voice echoed like a thunderstorm in Simone’s brain.
Her world blew into a billion pieces that circled around her in the air, creating an almost impenetrable mist through which she could barely distinguish dark shadows and indistinct voices. Completely disassociated, she watched herself and the ensuing events from a distance. This wasn’t happening to her. It was just a mo
vie she was watching. A terrible movie.
Girtab was shouting for Shaula and the two other guys, ordering them to declare an emergency. He was picking up Jennifer’s body and carrying her somewhere. He was ordering an evacuation of the tourists, something about an animal attack.
Someone—Shaula—seized Simone, dragged her with him to a helicopter, and threw her in. As they rose into the air, Simone looked out the window at the distressed crowd gathered around Girtab and the dead woman he held. Girtab’s face suddenly whipped around, his accusatory eyes meeting hers, reaching far deeper inside her than they should have been able to, especially from that distance. She remembered that winged demons had a sixth sense for what happened when someone died a violent death.
The crowd was retreating from them, further and further, and then it completely disappeared from view, and Simone was starting at the empty blue sky. She heard a voice come over the radio, informing the Legacy about the incident.
She was the perpetrator. The murderer. And she was probably going to be executed for it.
Chapter 17
Simone was back in her bungalow, but it wasn’t the haven of comfort and safety that it had been only the day before. Now it was literally her prison: she was under house arrest. Antar had told her father what had happened, and now Tor was on his way to Anavilhanas, expected to arrive that evening. The thought of facing her father was killing her. Why didn’t the Legacy just end her life right here, right now, and spare her the torture? There was no way she was going to make it through this whole ordeal alive anyway.
The Confederation of Immortals, the political body that the Legacy of Tyr served, had been enforcing the No-Kill and No-Show laws with ever-increasing severity during Simone’s lifetime. Every technological advance that humans touted as making the world smaller, making communication easier, also made human discovery of immortals more inevitable. The Code—the laws of No-Kill and No-Show—were seen as the last defense against that discovery. And they were also seen as immortals’ only chance to insure that when that inevitable day finally arrived, it would not mean outright war between humans and immortals. The Confederation’s zero-tolerance policy regarding code violations would show humans that immortals could and would police themselves.