Crave (12 page)

“All your things?” he said, his smile holding.

Kristina realised what he meant and that it made him happy. He wanted her to come and stay with him, and wanted her to go with him when he had to leave. She wanted that too. She nodded. “Every last thing.”

He kissed her again, a brief hard press of his lips, and then patted her backside. “Hurry.”

She slipped off the bed, dressed quickly, and tied her mac around her waist. “Wait for me.”

Callum walked with her to the door and kissed her again, slower this time, a soft one that warmed her right down to the marrow of her bones.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against her lips and stroked her cheek before kissing her again.

Kristina smiled and backed off, giggling as she did so. If she didn’t go now, she would never make it back before the restaurants closed.

She almost made it out of the door before she came back and kissed him again, reluctant to leave his side. He laughed and she clenched her fists.

“I’m really going this time.” She pecked his cheek and headed out, resisting the temptation to look back as she walked down the corridor and see if he was watching her.

She made it down to the lobby and out onto the pavement. The doorman there hailed a taxi for her and she stepped into it.

A man got in the other door.

“This cab’s taken,” she said and then frowned when her senses blared in warning.

She looked across at the dark haired man, unable to make his face out in the shadows. Vampire. He smiled at her, flashing fangs, and slapped a hand down on her thigh so hard it stung.

“I’ve been waiting for you to leave that place all week,” he said in a strange foreign accented voice and her vision wavered, sound swimming in her ears. She looked down at the hand on her thigh and blinked.

A silver tube with feathers protruded from her leg. A dart.

“What the?” she said and collapsed against the man. The last thing she made out before she slipped into unconsciousness was a single word.

“Aéroport.”

It was Antoine’s order to return to Vampirerotique in time for the special performance that had finally forced Callum to leave Paris. He had waited for Kristina to return from gathering her things. Hours had passed before he realised that she wasn’t coming back and had gone out in search of her. He didn’t know where her hotel was so he had gone to the club where they had first made love. The three male werewolves had been there, and none of them had been pleased to see him.

At first, he had suspected that they had waylaid her, but they had soon proven that theory false. A brief fight with them had convinced them that he meant business and it would be best to answer his questions if they wanted to live to see another night. When they had, their scents and heartbeats had remained calm. They hadn’t been the ones to take her. He had faltered then, his faith shaken and heart aching, briefly convinced that she had finally run away from him.

He had cursed himself then. He should have gone with her, should have escorted her to her hotel, waited for her to change and get her things, and then dropped them back at his hotel before heading out for dinner. It had been foolish of him to let her go alone.

The largest male werewolf had mentioned her pack and Callum had remembered that she was on the run from her family. Could they have found her? It had only taken another brief tussle to convince the werewolf to supply the names of the hotels in Paris that his species frequented, driven by their pack instinct to remain together even when they were different families.

Callum had checked them all and had success at one of them. She had been staying there. In fact, her clothes had still been there and the manager had been fairly irritated that she had apparently disappeared before paying. He had paid for her room and taken her belongings with him. On each of the next four nights, he had taken a deep breath of her scent that lingered on her clothes and gone out in search of her.

If she had run, she would have taken her belongings. Someone had snatched her.

It had to be her pack.

The werewolves in Paris had grown tired and snappish, annoyed by the questions he fired whenever he came across one. He had built quite the reputation for himself as an irritating take-no-shit vampire by the time Antoine had called him and commanded him to return to London. Antoine had refused to listen to reason. His order was final.

Callum’s flight had landed at the City Airport just forty minutes ago. The limousine had already pulled up outside the warmly lit columned façade of the old theatre building but he had yet to find the strength to leave it. It felt as though he would leave all hope of finding her behind when he did.

No. There was always hope. If her pack had taken her, then he would go to every werewolf family in Britain in search of her. He would find her and take her back. She was his now.

She was his everything.

These past few nights without her had been a test of his strength. He had relentlessly searched for her, driven by his need to find her and protect her, to have her back in his arms. Each night that had passed had worn him down a little more, stealing a fraction of his hope and his strength. He felt close to collapse now, lost and adrift, unable to function while Kristina was out there somewhere, probably scared and waiting for him to come for her. He had to find her.

As soon as he had spoken to Antoine, he would take the limousine and head out again. He would start tonight, not losing a second in his search for her. He wouldn’t relent until he had found her and she was safe in his arms again.

His Kristina.

“Wait for me here,” he said and stepped out of the black car. The pavement outside the theatre was quiet. He left his belongings in the car and went through the glass doors and into the gold and red foyer. It was empty too.

The hour was growing late. The performance would already be underway.

Callum took the side door that led backstage and walked down the darkly painted corridor that ran the length of the theatre. He wasn’t in the mood to make an appearance in the stalls of the theatre and Antoine always lingered near the doors that opened onto the gangway between the front row of seats and the stage.

Callum reached the large black-walled double-height area where steps led upstairs and another corridor led backstage. He pushed open the double doors and spotted Antoine nearby, his pale blue eyes fixed on the stage.

The aristocrat vampire glanced at him, frowned and then walked over to him. Callum stepped into the theatre and eased the doors closed behind him. Antoine raked long fingers through the lengths of his dark hair and his frown hardened. Callum ignored the erotic sounds coming from the stage and looked at the audience. It wasn’t a full house. That in itself was unusual.

What made Callum pause was the sight of thick steel bars edging the stage, turning it into a huge cage. What sort of performance was Antoine putting on tonight in front of this select crowd? It was all aristocrats in the seats. Normally the stalls were full of the elite and the aristocrats remained aloft in their boxes.

“What’s going on?” Callum looked back at Antoine.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the aristocrat snapped and his look darkened. “Where the Devil have you been? You have been gone twice as long as you should have and haven’t contacted me in more than a week. Do I not have enough to worry about without you adding to it?”

Callum mumbled his apology.

Antoine huffed and looked back at the stage. “It is a special performance. Lord and Lady Hallebrand requested it for their youngest son’s birthday. I do not know much else about it besides that. They requested we provide the theatre and the performers. That was all. It turns out they decided to provide some performers of their own too... and when you failed to report in and provide further werewolves for auditions, they set about sourcing some themselves so the performance could go ahead.”

Callum frowned at the stage and the two couples fornicating on the other side. It didn’t look much different to the normal show they put on each week.

There were long chains and shackles bolted to the floor though, and one of the men was using them on his woman, bending her forwards with her ankles and wrists securely fastened so she couldn’t move as he fucked her from behind. The position sent flashes of his moment with Kristina in the bathroom across his eyes and he drew in a deep breath.

It was then he caught the scent of werewolf.

Were the couples on stage werewolves? He didn’t recognise any of them from his scouting mission but then he rarely paid close enough attention to potential performers for him to remember them once they reached his stage, and Antoine had mentioned that the couple had also sourced performers.

He looked back at Antoine.

The aristocrat vampire was glaring at the stage, his displeasure rolling off him in tangible waves. Something had annoyed him, and Callum had the feeling it wasn’t his disappearing act. Was it the show that had him more agitated than usual or had something happened with Snow again? Whenever Snow was going through a bad patch, Antoine turned into a bear with a one-track mind bent on bloody murder. Callum normally requested he be allowed out to scout for new performers whenever Antoine got into one of those moods and left Javier to deal with him.

The performance ended and when the curtain rose again there was a large box-shaped object in the middle of the stage, draped in a black velvet cloth. It shifted as though someone was underneath it. The audience murmured, their excitement lacing the air.

The veil covering the box rose, revealing a steel cage and three naked women huddled in the centre. One blonde, one brunette.

And Kristina.

Callum snarled.

Kristina turned her hazel eyes in his direction and ran at the bars, growling and trying to reach him. “You bastard!”

His heart stopped dead. Ice filled his veins. She thought he had betrayed her. Her pain ran in his blood, conveying her disappointment and anger.

Three large male vampires entered the stage, wearing only tight black jeans, each one carrying a black bull-whip.

The audience jeered.

The gate of the cage lifted and then one man stepped forwards, thrust his hand into the cage and grabbed the blonde werewolf by her throat. He dragged her kicking and screaming out into the middle of the stage and threw her to one side. His whip cracked across her back a moment later, sending her arching forwards and screaming as a bright red streak appeared and the scent of her blood filled the air. The audience gasped and leaned forwards as one, eager for more.

Callum growled and ran at the stage, leaping up to balance on the edge. He gripped the thick steel bars and tried to pull them apart, snarling and verging on losing control. The steel bars started to give and his heart lurched when a second vampire dragged the brunette werewolf out of the cage by her hair, pulling her across the stage on her backside.

The third male approached the cage. Kristina backed into the far corner, growling and snarling at the vampire.

“Kristina!” Callum called out and she turned fearful teary eyes on him. He reached out to her through the bars, desperate to get through to her so he could protect her from the man.

“What the hell are you doing?” Antoine grabbed his ankle and dragged him down. He toppled and hit the red carpet with a sharp thud.

He was on his feet again and reaching for the steel bars before a beat had passed. Antoine grabbed his upper arm, fingers pressing painfully through the layers of his black shirt and jacket. Callum snarled and shoved him away. Antoine’s pale blue eyes turned glacial and then began to turn red.

“She’s my lover!” Callum snapped and gave up on trying to make it through the steel bars. He wasn’t strong enough. He crashed through the double doors instead and banked left, sprinting for the door that led onto the stage.

He tore it open and ran out into the fray. All three vampire males sported wounds now and a good deal of blood coated the black stage floor, turning it slippery. He ran forwards, past the now transformed female werewolves. One of the male vampires lashed out at him with the whip and Callum caught it by the tip before it could strike him, twisted it around his arm, and pulled it out of the man’s grip. He wrapped his fingers around the thick handle, twirled it in the air above his head, and sent it at the man who had attacked him. It cracked across his chest, leaving a bloody streak. The vampire snarled at him and Callum roared back.

The audience started to jeer louder, as though this was all part of the act. Two voices rang out above the noise though, protesting loudly about what he was doing.

Callum didn’t listen. He cracked the whip again, keeping the three men at bay. The wolves gathered behind him, growling and snarling, their hackles raised. Callum glanced at all three of them. He didn’t know which one was Kristina. The smell of their spilled blood combined and he couldn’t pick hers out.

“Kristina.” He cracked the whip again when one of the vampires tried to rush him. He didn’t recognise any of them. Antoine had said that the lord and lady responsible for this horror show had brought some of their own performers. These men had to be theirs. Everyone at Vampirerotique knew him and knew not to mess with him. “Stay back. I’ll protect you.”

The wolves growled behind him and it didn’t sound like a favourable response.

Two launched past him, one on either side, and locked their jaws on to two of the vampires. One man went down with a werewolf on his arm. The other was less fortunate. The female had a good aim and bit into his throat, sending blood gushing down his broad bare chest. He hit the floor and struggled in vain.

The other vampire shook off the werewolf who had attacked him and Callum attacked the third. He dropped the whip and launched himself at the man, slashing his claws down his chest and spilling blood. The man punched him several times across the jaw, sending his head spinning. Callum didn’t relent. He clawed at the man between punching and dodging, weakening him by spilling his blood.