by L. D. Rose
“Do you know who she is?”
Dax stared up at him. Fury sharpened Rome’s features, his eyes like blazing suns. How could she possibly be so important as to nearly set him off like a bomb? “No. And I don’t care—”
“She’s Alek’s mate,” he roared, and the cannon ball of shock demolished Dax, delivering the final blow. “She’s Cindel Konstantinov!”
What?
No. No. She couldn’t be.
Even Blaze cringed at the impact of Rome’s revelation, and Cindy hunched her shoulders, shrinking away and bowing her head with shame—revealing the truth more than anything Rome could’ve said. Murmurs and curses ricocheted around the front yard, but Dax couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe it.
“Who’s your sire, Cindy?”
“I don’t know.”
Liar.
“No.” His wide eyes flicked back and forth between her and Rome, trying to anchor his spiraling thoughts. “She’s innocent.”
“Look at her,” Rome demanded, and Dax complied, regarding her averted eyes and quivering lips. “She lied to you. And now you’ve compromised us all, do you understand?”
Dax opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it, closed it. Like a goddamn fish out of water, drowning under the onslaught of disbelief, treachery, and the terrible reality of the truth.
Holy shit. It all made sense now. Those fragmented pieces about her suddenly fit into this horrifying puzzle of comprehension he should’ve put together a long time ago.
At the expression on his face, her voice pierced the air, thick with tears and frayed with regret. “I’m no longer his to rule.” She stared right at him as she said it, the sorrow and anguish in her eyes squeezing his broken heart. “I’m not his mate anymore.”
With a bone-chilling growl, Rome stalked after her, putting his gun up. “We’ll see about that.”
Dax lurched forward, vainly attempting to stop him, his intuition screaming at him to protect her no matter who or what she was. “No, Rome. Please!”
As soon as his brother reached her, Rome snatched her jaw, forcing her to meet his golden gaze. When their eyes connected, those black spheres rolled into the back of her head and she slumped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Blaze caught her before she hit the ground, dumbfounded as he gawked at Rome, but Sparky made no move to intervene.
“Get her out of here,” Rome snarled and Blaze effortlessly scooped her up in his arms. The firestarter spared Dax one last apologetic glance before he carried her limp body off into the mansion.
A lethal concoction of emotions broiled beneath Dax’s skin, the weight of it like a boulder pressing down on his very soul. His pulse rammed at both sides of his neck, his breath choppy and erratic, his mind reeling from his brothers’ actions. Another cough seized him, dropping him back on his hands and knees as he painted the asphalt red.
Punctuating the fit, his heart skidded out of rhythm, shifting into overdrive and racing toward death. The pain was tremendous, at an all-time high both inside and out, and when Rome’s shitkickers swam into view, Dax reached out with a shaking hand to clutch his brother’s ankle.
I can’t die. Not like this. Not now.
Strong hands gripped his shoulders, lifting him up while the world spun and tilted on its axis, his vision tunneling as if he were looking down the wrong end of a telescope.
“I love you, Frosty.” Rome’s words sliced through the din as darkness enveloped Dax, pushing his head under the surface of consciousness.
“But you’re a goddamn fool.”
And Dax sank, deep down into that blissful abyss, where agony and love and betrayal no longer existed.
FIFTEEN
Cindel roused to the stench of old basement, bleach, and oil.
Her eyes opened to a gray granite wall, its surface scuffed and its seams lined with grime. The stone wrapped around the entire room as she turned in the cot, her gaze scaling the ceiling and absorbing the walls. In front of her, tungsten carbide bars crisscrossed and interlocked, trapping her in their cage. Beyond them, a dark hall stretched infinitely in either direction.
Another cell. Another prison.
Cindel winced as she sat up, the dull throb of a headache pulsing between her temples. The thin mattress felt hard underneath her, flipped down from the wall like a bench, with a single laundered sheet and pillow. A white toilet and sink stood in the corner, also remarkably clean, with a pile of clothes and towels stacked in the basin.
Rubbing her eyes, she listened for nearby cellmates, expanding her senses. Nothing but the eerie silence of a well-insulated space. She pushed a hand through her tangled hair and surveyed herself, finding her sweater and jeans still intact, her sneakers resting neatly by the bunk. Even her face had been washed, the faint smell of lemongrass tickling her nose. Whoever had left her here hadn’t simply locked her up and walked away.
Blaze. Blaze must’ve brought her here.
As the events of last night replayed in her muddled mind, her heart thumped harder at the memory of Dax desperately struggling to save her in his debilitated state. A garrote of fear tightened around her throat, the vision of him shouting and reaching for her stamped into her gray matter before his brother, Rome, reared on her with a malice she couldn’t fathom. And when she looked into the Senary leader’s gilded eyes, her entire body shut down, as if he’d flipped the power switch in her brain with a mere glance. She’d only felt his power briefly, but the brutal strength of it was positively terrifying.
Much like Alek.
Too much like Alek.
Maybe worse than Alek.
She swore Rome would’ve killed her. The furious expression carved into his exotic face and the fire burning in his alien eyes had relayed as much. But all he’d left her with was a mild headache and unforeseeable internment.
She just prayed Dax was all right.
The soft rustle of fabric whispered in her ear and she looked up to find a man lurking beyond the cell bars, hands stuffed in his pockets as if he’d been watching her for some time. Her breath escaped her in a sharp whoosh when their eyes connected in the dark, eyes much like hers, twin spheres of obsidian with a feline shine.
Not a man, but a vampire.
Dressed head-to-toe in black with a similar battle garb as the hybrids, her visitor shifted his feet, his short, dark hair tousled and his vampiric incense invading her nostrils. A sudden sense of déjà vu seized her consciousness, and it felt too familiar—he felt too familiar—as she gulped past her beating carotid, tasting copper and dread on her tongue.
Rome wasn’t only powerful, but clever.
“You’re Taylon’s,” she murmured, her voice rasping and flimsy in the strained silence. The way he’d approached without her awareness, an ominous aura pumping from his pores in a thick cloud, not quite the ebony color of Taylon’s, but close, so close.
His eyes narrowed at her, the corners of his full mouth tugging into a frown, the muscles in his strong jaw flexing.
“Not anymore,” he replied in a smooth, deep timbre, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “How did you know?”
“You feel like him.” Her grip on the edge of the cot stiffened as she studied him, his features, his stance, the bob of his Adam’s apple in his throat. “But you’re free now. Like me.”
He tilted his head. “Is that what you are? Free?”
She smirked and looked away, down at the gray floor. “From my sire, yes. Otherwise, I suppose not. I guess we’re never really free, are we?”
A long pause before he replied with a somewhat indignant, “We’re not the same.”
“As you wish, Jonathan. Or should I just call you the Black Bullet?”
He stepped forward, big hand curling around one of the tungsten bars. “How do you know who I am?”
She
didn’t meet his gaze. Whether from years of habit or fear, she couldn’t resist the deference. “How could I not? You’ve made quite a name for yourself and your reputation precedes you. Even in the north.”
He let out a snort. “I don’t care about fame.”
“Unlike your sire.”
“He’s not my sire.” A fire lit under his words. “I didn’t choose this.”
“We never choose. And we’re not always like those who created us.”
Another pause, the silence wrought with tension and misgivings. “How were you freed from Alek?”
“Taylon freed me.” She finally met the mirrors of his black eyes. “When I escaped Alek’s house of horrors, your sire released me from his bond. For better or worse.”
Surprise softened Jon’s hard features and he opened his mouth to say something then closed it as if thinking better of it. When his lips parted again, he said, “I didn’t know Ramsden had that ability.”
“Neither did I. Nor Alek. Looks like we all underestimated him.”
Those onyx mirrors flashed with their signature chartreuse sheen. “Well, it doesn’t fucking matter anymore because he’s dead.”
She nodded. “And good riddance to him.”
The Black Bullet’s handsome scowl reappeared. “Why did you run away?”
“From Alek?” She raised a brow. “You mean, why did I flee from an abusive, sadistic megalomaniac?”
Jon let out an abrupt laugh, as if he hadn’t expected her response. “Well, when you put it that way—”
“It is that way. Was that way. When your mind and body are under the command of a tyrant, you’ll do anything to be liberated of him. Anything.”
All humor drained from Jon’s face, her words sobering him. She seemed to have hit a nerve, because his expression shadowed, his hand falling away from the bars. “Agreed.”
Now it was her turn to appraise him, this formidable vampire ally of the Senary. “Is Dax all right?”
“Yeah. He’ll be fine.”
Relief washed over her, easing the tension between her shoulders and the knots in her belly. Her grip loosened on the cot, her hands trembling as she clasped them together in her lap. “Good. I’m glad.”
He peered at her warily. “Looks like he cares about you. For better or worse.”
Her heart squeezed at the admission from someone so close to him. “I care about him too.”
“Because you’ve acquired his trait.”
Anger surged in her veins, her blood simmering as she stared him down. “Because he’s a good man. Because he’s shown me kindness for the first time in my wretched existence.”
“You’re right, he’s a good man.” Jon’s eyes drilled into hers with the same intensity, menace bolstering his charcoal aura as he leaned into the bars. “And if you’re manipulating him, Rome will end that shit, fast.”
She didn’t doubt that. “I’m not manipulating him,” she snapped, her hands balling into fists on her lap. “I don’t have the power to sway anyone, never mind a hybrid.”
“But you’re a liar. Why should I believe anything you say? If we can’t trust you, you don’t belong here.”
“What choice did I have?” She stood, the room slanting briefly as her mind gathered its bearings, dizziness altering her balance for only a moment. “I’ve been hiding for years, years, and if I’d revealed my identity to Dax, he would’ve no doubt slain me. His heart may warm when open, but he’s a cold-blooded killer, like you, like all of you, and I had to survive.”
She took a few steps forward, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palms, her chest tight. “Then something happened between us. I don’t know what or why, but it feels right. So right. Right enough that he gambled bringing me here, jeopardized everything in order to help me, risked the trust of the very people he loves. If you need someone to point a finger at, blame me, not him. But I swear, his every action and word is of his own volition. I wouldn’t dare spoil what’s left of his humanity.”
The Black Bullet’s jaw ticked away, his obsidian eyes searching hers for the slightest hint of deception. He wouldn’t find it here.
She was tired of lying.
“Rome will release you under one condition,” he said after the space of a few heartbeats.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Why doesn’t he tell me himself?”
“Because he still doesn’t trust himself not to turn you into a vegetable.”
“Such integrity,” she muttered with more than a pinch of sarcasm.
“You’re lucky he didn’t shell out your brain when you stepped out of that car.” Clearly Jon was losing patience. Good. “You should be glad he’s even giving you a chance to get out of here alive.”
She gritted her teeth, but didn’t retaliate, his words subduing her impudence.
Construing her silence as a cue to proceed, the Black Bullet continued. “He’ll let you live if you give him access to your memories.” Jon paused, hesitating to say the last, but he drove the spear in anyway. “With Alek.”
Her jaw slackened, eyes widening. “What?”
“If you’re willing to divulge any and all information of your time spent with Konstantinov, from the instant you were turned until the moment you escaped, you’ll leave here unharmed.”
“Unharmed?” Her voice rose with growing hysteria. “How do I know he won’t just dispose of me when he’s through?”
“He won’t.”
“Oh, really?” She almost laughed at that. “If he intends to take my life, won’t he strip my mind anyway?”
“No.” The word was a near growl.
“Why not? I’ll be vulnerable, unable to stop him.”
“Unlike your sire, he won’t rob you of your free will.”
She advanced on him, hands shaking with rage now, and she latched on to that anger, fueled it until the inferno consumed her fear. “And you expect me to believe he didn’t pilfer anything while I was unconscious?”
“He didn’t.” Jon simply stared at her, seemingly unfazed by the mounting tide of her emotions. “Rome only knocked you out. He’s giving you a choice.”
“A choice?” This time, she laughed, and it rang maniacal, even to her own ears. “Was it the same choice he gave you?”
The Black Bullet finally bared his fangs. “Don’t push it, Cindel—”
She grabbed the bars, her blood boiling now, flashing her own teeth. “Men like him have raped me, my body, my memories, my dignity, my innocence. Why should he be any different? Why should you? Why should any of you monsters?”
Jon actually flinched, reeling from the blow of her words. He gaped at her, speechless, eyes smoldering with ire and a glimmer of sympathy.
She didn’t need his pity.
“Tell your leader if he wants to ransack my mind, he’ll have to kill me for it,” she spat, pushing off the bars, unable to stand the expression on his pale, beautiful face. Her vision swam red as tears welled in her eyes, hot blood slipping down her cheeks in blistering streams. “I refuse to be ravaged anymore.”
And with that, she turned away, hating herself for crying in front of him, for revealing a single ounce of weakness to someone she hardly knew. A sob expanded in her chest, climbed up her throat, but she fought it down with all her might as blood dripped onto her sweater, the floor, her hands as she haphazardly wiped at her face.
Jon didn’t move, only stood in stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he let out a rough curse and pivoted, the tread of his boots scraping stone. With her ears acutely tuned into him now, he pitched a sigh and walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing down the infinite hall before they faded into darkness.
And at last, Cindel unleashed her anguish, crying harder than she had since she fled Alek’s godforsaken prison.
<
br /> ~ ~ ~
Push and pull. Rise and fall. Dax drifted in a murky abyss with a tungsten anchor strapped to his ankles, his feet like concrete blocks. The layers of awareness grew lighter and thinner as he ascended, only to be yanked back down into thick, heavy darkness. Instinct compelled him to keep fighting, warning him not to give up else he’d drown, and he would never awaken if the leviathan circling below swallowed him whole.
A light blinked in his periphery, blinding in its intensity, a pale blue hue within the watery void. It reminded him of the glow of his hands, of her hands, when his ice-cold chi rushed through their blood, chilling everything in its path. Numb and anesthetized, he peered at the flickering beacon, beckoning him like a lighthouse in a storm, the ship of his consciousness careening wildly in the dark.
His bleary eyes snared on the silhouette of a figure, a floating woman wearing a green dress, the delicate fabric swirling about her ankles. Long red hair billowed around her and her ivory skin seemed to absorb the light. She hovered in the distance, gliding away from him, but she felt familiar.
So familiar.
Her hand reached out to him, as if he were her lifeline, this drowning man in an endless black ocean. Intuition urged him to rescue her, to do everything in his power to save her, but he could barely save himself, weighted down by the burden of loyalty and duty.
With his erratic heart thundering in his ears, Dax stretched out his arms, pallid hands grasping the light, fingers curling around her silhouette. He opened his mouth, his voice swelling in a muted shout, but water rushed into his lungs, darkness filling him to the brim. He flailed, spiraling deeper, and when he glimpsed into the gaping maw of the beast—at the jagged rows of bladed white teeth snapping at his bound feet—he knew this was it, the end, and he’d die a failure with her blood on his hands—
“Dax.”