Darkness Captured (2 page)

“Sonofabitch,” she muttered, reaching up to grab the silver-linked choker from her neck that he’d used to subdue her and ripping it off. How could he do this, leave her in his bolt-hole, after everything she’d done to help him in his quest to usurp command of the vampires?

While he’d disappeared for hours, clutching the phoenix-creature he appeared to love against his chest, she’d helped round up the
sabat,
nipping at the council members’ heels to herd them toward their rooms, where Nicolas posted guards to keep them in lockdown.

Malcolm, Nicolas’s next in command, had led away Inanna’s private security force to the barracks for “debriefing” and posted his own men around the compound to keep things quiet while Alex’s closest advisors sorted through the chaos that was the aftermath of Inanna’s expulsion into hell.

When Alex had at last returned, looking like he’d just had the sweetest sex of his life, Gabriella shook her fur, pulling on her human skin, ready to remind Alex about their agreement when his gaze fled up the staircase, again.

The look on his face, one filled with a mixture of impatience and tenderness, had made her heart sink. When she’d cleared her throat to remind him she was still standing there, another look crossed his face—one that had her backing up a step and stammering.

The collar had been a real kick in the ass. He’d pulled it from his pocket and apologized, all the while grappling her to the ground to loop the damn thing around her neck. “I swear. It’s just for now,” he’d ground out as she wriggled beneath him. “Just until I get everything sorted out.”

If he thought she’d be in any mood to talk to him, to negotiate a transaction to ensure the peace between their nations remained in place—well, he’d have to do a whole lot of begging, preferably on his knees and naked, before she agreed.

The thought of Alex, nude and serving her up a dish of submission, soothed her dented pride for all of a second. Her shoulders slumped, and she released a dejected sigh.

Gabriella never lied. Not even to herself. Alex was lost to her, for good. Once, long ago, she’d hired an assassin to kill him, and she’d grieved for centuries, believing she’d killed him in a fit of jealous rage and lost the only lover who’d ever completely fulfilled her dark, sensual fantasies. The past few days, fighting and loving with him had been a bitter reminder of what she’d missed most—but he’d only been playing her, using her to get what he needed from her. When his other lover had “died,” it took only one glance at the desperation tightening his face and the tears filling his eyes to know she’d never hold his heart.

She shook out her hair and glanced toward the bureau standing against the far wall of the cave. With time to kill, she could at least empty his liquor cabinet.

With a glide, she pushed off the floor and strode to the cabinet, lifting one bottle and another until she found a cognac to her taste. Pouring a beaker full of the warm amber liquor, she glanced at herself in the mirror and lifted her glass to toast her reflection.

Noting the red ring around her neck, she wrinkled her nose. Wasn’t the first time she’d accepted a noose. Maybe the Dom in Atlanta would be amenable to a little retraining. Her nipples prickled and extended, spiking at the thought of the nasty things she’d beg him to do. As soon as she settled her business with Alex, she’d give him a call.

Her features tightened and the corners of her lips curved downward. She shut her eyes and downed the contents of her glass. When she opened them again, she stared at the mirror and set down her drink.

How many times had Alex stared into the glass, looking into that dreadful room—the hall where the demons and the dead feasted on each other in hell? Remembering Alex’s warning about the mirror, she reached up and gingerly touched only the frame.

The hall shimmered into sight. The same scene replayed—people in glittering, bejeweled costumes sitting at long benches in a medieval-style hall. She shifted to the side to catch a glimpse of the Master’s entrance—the handsome creature whose black aura resembled a dragon’s. With Alex behind her, she’d watched the Master stride into the room, felt a tingle of awareness for his masculine beauty, and shuddered for the power he wielded over the orgiastic bloodletting that had followed. She wouldn’t deny the fact that the man fascinated her.

The hellhounds once again stood like sentries at either side of the plank door. She waited for a long while, watched the couple nearest the mirror savage each other on the floor, but still he didn’t appear.

Just when she’d decided to drop her hand, a figure stepped in front of the glass.

Her eyes widened as she found herself staring directly into the Master’s golden eyes. The narrow, slitted pupils slowly expanded, engulfing the irises entirely in black.

Gabriella told herself he couldn’t see her. Perhaps he looked at his own reflection in a matching mirror. Gathering calm around her, she stared back, noting the thick black hair that fell to the tops of his broad shoulders, the neatly trimmed beard and moustache that framed his chin and mouth, drawing her gaze to his lips—full for a man, sensual, and beginning to smile.

A chill gnawed at her spine, causing her to quake.

As though she stared into a cobra’s mesmerizing stare, she couldn’t break with his gaze as he slowly raised his hand and pressed it to the glass, his long fingers splayed.

Gabriella felt as though she stood outside herself, watching as she reached up, spreading her own fingers to match his, and pressed her hand against the glass.

The glass began to warm, and then dissolved between them. Their fingers met. Before she could jerk her hand away, his fingers slipped to her wrist and tightened there. Triumph glittered in his dark eyes, and he reached up with his free hand to grasp the edge of the mirror and pull. It stretched downward, the bureau in front of her melting away, and he jerked her forward—into the blood-soaked hall.

Gabriella stumbled, falling, her knees slamming into stone tiles. When she shook back her hair, she noted the faces of the demons and the dead swinging toward her and the silence that closed around her. Her heart hammering against her chest, she drew back her arm, trying to free herself from his grip. Falling to her bottom, she scooted on the floor, pushing herself backward with her heels, but her back met a hard wall. Stunned, she looked behind her and saw that the mirror on this side was small and high up on the wall. The portal had closed and she was trapped.
What have I done?

Low growls penetrated her terror. The hellhounds closed in on either side of her captor, and then the murmurs began, a slithering, raspy noise that grew into a roar as the creatures inside the room left their seats and surrounded them.

She bent her knees to hug them against her torso, and tucked her arm over her breasts, trying to hide herself from dozens of ravenous gazes.

Her glance swung back to the demon that still held her in his grasp, rising slowly to meet his frightening eyes. His lips twisted. His arm swung out, forcing her to unfold her legs and raising her onto her knees, exposing her body fully.

Her breaths shortened, rasping loudly as panic gripped her as tightly as he did. Would they fall on her, make a meal of her body? Or would they rape her? God, no, she’d sooner be eaten. The shame of her defeat, of her helplessness against greater strength and numbers, would live forever.

The beast holding her shot a glance over his shoulder, and the crowd backed up.

Would he take her first, and then give her over to the others? His lust was palpable, pounding, ticking at the side of one of his black eyes. His nostrils flared, and his head waved as though sucking in more of her scent. A bulge formed at the front of the black breeches he wore, thickening along the inside of one massive thigh.

She couldn’t help staring at it, knowing her eyes widened with fear. His sex was long and thick, more than an average woman could take. But she wasn’t average. At six feet, her body was proportionately large and powerful, her hips wide, her woman’s channel deep and able to stretch to fit the circumference and length of a very large man.

Unbidden, her body reacted, spilling fluid to dampen her labia. She sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes and tried to will away her attraction. How could she be growing aroused?

Was he causing it? Did he have that kind of power over a woman’s desire? Her nipples tightened, beading hard, and again she tried to shield them from his gaze, but he already knew.

She saw it in the fierce light glittering in his eyes.

Another tug of his hand and she was rising, teetering on weakened limbs. He ducked and pulled her over his shoulder.

As the world tilted, she flailed against him, clawing at his back through his clothing, but he turned on his heels and drove through the crowd. And because she was afraid, she didn’t lift her face to meet their gazes. She tucked her head against his back and closed her eyes. Wherever he was going—out of the room, or simply to one of the emptied tables to lower her and take her—she didn’t want to know.

Her only thoughts were of Alex and whether he’d care enough to search for her when he discovered she was gone—and of Guntram, her protector, whose loyalty she never questioned. Alex might mount a rescue due to the complications her disappearance would cause with both their nations’ uneasy alliance, but Guntram would follow her for reasons all his own.

Reasons she’d never had the courage to explore because she thought she might already know, and the last thing she’d ever wanted was the love of a wolf.

CHAPTER
2

A
lexander Broussard stood beneath the eaves on the wide veranda, listening to the sounds of the night—the humming of insects, the croaking frogs, and the faint rustle of leaves whispering in the slight breeze.

The
weres
were good, highly disciplined. They’d made little discernible noise as they approached the compound’s gates.

They’d also bathed away their wolf-smell and likely smeared their bodies with dirt to mask their human skin’s aroma. If they’d only been cloaking their scent to defy detection by vampires, it would have worked. But Alex was something else.
Something more.

He’d read the wolf-sign—the imprint of their subtly masked scent, and seen the lupine grace of their movements as they slunk through the woods. While their eyes weren’t bright, reflective discs, his heightened sense of sight could just make out sets of paler shades of gray ovals, peering from behind the trees beyond the far fence. For not only was he the only male Born vampire in existence, he’d trained all his life with a mage, learning other kindred tactics and hunting
weres
for practice. Apparently, waiting for this day.

He’d already had a busy night. He’d usurped power from the ancient Inanna, taken her crown, and imprisoned her council. He’d soothed away Mikaela’s fears after she’d been reborn in flames, loving her until she slept the deep sleep of the innocent. His heart still ached for the child they’d lost when the demon he’d sent to hell along with Inanna had murdered his sweet phoenix.

And the battle wasn’t over yet. Wolves encircled the estate, looking for their princess. He’d have gladly handed Gabriella over to them with apologies for the delay, but there was a little problem.

“How long have they been here?” Nicolas Montfaucon, his captain of the guard said, pretending nonchalance and keeping his back to the perimeter fence.

“For over an hour.”

“You didn’t think I’d need to know?” Nicolas asked, a hint of annoyance tightening his voice.

“What would you have done?”

“Put more guards near the walls.”

Alex smiled. “And they’d have known we were aware they watch us. That we prepare for a battle. And they’d wonder if we had a reason. For now, I don’t want them to know that anything out of the ordinary has occurred.”

“Has Simon figured out a way to retrieve her?”

Alex stiffened, fighting the urge to act. Now was the time to leave matters in more expert hands. “Once she touched the glass, she activated the portal. We’re lucky nothing tried to enter.”

“But we’ve lost her.” Nicolas’s lips twisted in disdain. “Didn’t like her much, anyway. She’s a bit too proud.”

“And your Chessa isn’t?”

Mention of the woman they both cared for, and who carried another of Alex’s offspring, had Nicolas’s expression lightening. “Point taken.”

“Gabriella may be a wolf, but at heart she’s still a woman. And she has to be terrified.”

Nicolas nodded, his chest lifting with a deep sigh. “If Simon can’t reactivate the portal, or if she’s moved away from it, what will we do?”

“We’ll have to tell her men she’s been misplaced.” Although his tone was wry, a fresh wave of guilt poured over him. Gabriella had trusted him.

“That should go over well. Is there nothing we can do to bring her back?”

“If anyone can, it’ll be Simon.”

“I hate depending on fucking mages,” Nicolas spat, his words made almost comical by the French flavoring his inflections. “You’d think if he’s relived this time over and over he could manage to give us a little warning about what’s supposed to happen next. What good is it knowing the future if you can’t use that knowledge?”

Not something Alex hadn’t asked the mage himself a thousand times. “Simon has his reasons. He lets us know what we have to know
when
we need the knowledge.”

Nicolas locked his gaze with Alex’s, his expression growing pinched. “Alex, tell me the truth. Wouldn’t you have preferred knowing ahead of time that your Mikaela was a phoenix, rather than watching her body go up in flames and thinking she was lost forever when the Devourer murdered her?”

Alex’s body tensed again, remembering his horror.

But all had ended well. Now, she was safely tucked away in their bed, warming the covers nicely. His preoccupation with her, his need to soothe her when she was remade without memories, was what had forced him to place Gabriella in his vault in the first place. Gabriella’s jealousy had been palpable. How was he supposed to know the woman would not be able to resist the one furnishing he’d warned her not to touch the first time he’d brought her to his little cavern?