FrankenDom (25 page)

“Charming,” Bree snorted, gazing up at the castle, which looked even grimmer in the
bright light of a sunny spring afternoon.

“The driver or the castle?” I asked.

“Take your pick.”

“Well you can’t say I didn’t warn you about the castle.” I picked up my bag. “Come
on. The entrance is this way.”

I’d finally broken down and told her everything the evening after I woke her out of
a sound sleep to invite her to Montaneva. Okay, not everything—nothing too specific
about the patient other than his identity, nothing at all about the donor, and certainly
nothing about the dungeons and what I’d gotten up to in them with various and sundry
men. I’d signed a confidentiality agreement, after all, and I was walking a very fine
line by telling her that much.

But I’d finally admitted to having a three-way sexual relationship with both Julian
and Colin, something that, much to my surprise, hadn’t surprised her at all. What
surprised me even more was how cool she was with it.

“I mean really, how could you choose between two men you love?” she asked reasonably.

She wasn’t so cool with Julian performing an unauthorized organ transplant on his
own brother, or involving me in his little conspiracy. In fact, not to put too fine
a point on it, she lost her shit.

“That is so many fucking shades of wrong!” she’d raged, storming around my apartment
like she was looking for something to break. “I’m going to kill him. Slowly. And painfully.
With nothing more than a Foley and my bare hands.”

I stifled smile. “As much fun as that would be to watch, I really wish you wouldn’t.
I still love him.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“Bree, he had no other choice, and I know he’s paid over and over for it already.
If Jordan survived, he probably hates Julian.”

Bree’s eyes went wide. “
If
he survived?”

“It was a pretty drastic experimental procedure,” I told her uncomfortably. “But it
was the only possible way to save him. Jordan would be dead without it.”

“God, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about all this sooner,” she said.

“Sorry, but I signed a confidentiality agreement and I really didn’t feel right saying
anything more than I had to.”

Then I told her about being unable to reach anyone at the castle. She looked both
worried and intrigued. “Really? We’re dashing off to the Castle of Fear because everyone
has
disappeared
? Doesn’t that scream too-stupid-to-live horror movie heroine to you?”

Nevertheless, she’d jumped on the opportunity, arranging for two weeks off work just
in case I needed her. Since I was just a temp, it hadn’t taken much haggling to get
me the same two weeks off.

When we rounded the corner of the castle, I was startled to see that the wheelchair
ramp was gone. Oh God, did that mean Jordan had died, he’d left the castle, or he
didn’t need a ramp anymore? I rooted for the last option with everything in me.

No one answered when I rang the doorbell.

“Are you sure it’s working?” Bree asked, leaning back and shading her eyes with her
hand to look up the side of the castle. “I don’t hear anything.”

“I didn’t the last time, either, but Vince came right down.”

“Hmm.” She reached over and turned the knob. It was unlocked.

When she looked at me with wary eyes, I shrugged. “We’re way out in the country. They
probably never lock the doors.”

“If you say so.”

Pushing past her, I walked down the dark hallway and into the tower room. No one here,
either, not that I expected there to be. I pushed the button and had to wait for the
elevator to open, which meant it had last been used to go up. Hopefully that meant
there was someone upstairs—if not the someones I sought, then someone who could give
me information about them.

Bree joined me in the elevator with a doubtful look. “Are you sure this is a good
idea?”

I tugged her dark brown ponytail with a grin. “What happened to Bree the buff nurse
who could kill a man with a single bubble of air?”

“I left my infamous hypos of horror at the hospital,” she said wryly.

The door opened on the second floor and I stepped out into the tower room. No lights
were on, but the narrow windows let in enough daylight for me to see at least partway
down the corridor. I thought I heard a faint clinking sound from that direction.

“It looks like no one’s—”

“Shh!” I cocked my head. “Do you hear that?”

She listened, too, and her eyes widened. “Chains? Really? What’s next? Moaning and
shuffling footsteps?” She looked around. “You’re playing some kind of practical joke
on me, aren’t you? Come on, Rae, where are the cameras?”

“Breanna, when have I ever played a practical joke on you or anyone else?”

“Never, which makes this the perfect setup,” she declared. “I’d never suspect a thing.”

I rolled my eyes again. “And Julian said
I
had a vivid imagination. Let’s go.”

Setting my bag down, I started down the hall, and Bree quickly followed. When the
rattling chains and clanking noises grew louder, she grabbed the back of my windbreaker
and stepped on my heel, pulling my canvas sneaker off.

“Get off me,” I hissed, bending down to tug it back on.

“Sorry.”

There was another loud clank. And then a deep moan.

Followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps.

“Oh, please,” Bree whispered. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“Shh! It sounds like it’s coming from the dungeon.”

“The
dungeon
!” she squeaked.

“Not that kind of— Never mind. Just stay here for a minute.”

“No freaking way, sister. Not on your life.” She grabbed my sleeve this time. “I’m
coming with you.”

“All right then, but prepare to see some stuff that may shock you.” When I realized
how that sounded, I added, “Kinky stuff, not blood-and-guts stuff.”

She paused. “Kinky? You mean
that
kind of dungeon?”

“Yes. And how do you know about
that
kind of dungeon?” I demanded quietly.

“How do
you
know?” she countered.

“Shh!” I stopped outside the punishment room and realized the sounds were definitely
coming from inside. There was a sliver of light bleeding through beneath the door.
Crap, what was going on in there? I hated to interrupt somebody’s scene—unless it
was Julian and Colin. It made my heart hurt to remember they’d probably done plenty
of scening without me in the last few months.

The light under the door suddenly disappeared and the shuffling footsteps grew louder.
Acting on some childish instinct, Bree and I both darted away from the door and flattened
ourselves against the wall, holding each other’s clammy hands. The doorknob turned
and I assumed the door opened, though it was hard to tell with the castle’s well-lubricated
hinges. A tall figure stepped into the corridor and went directly across to open the
door of my room. The curtains must be closed because I could barely make him out as
he went inside, leaving the door ajar.

A light, probably the bedside lamp, switched on. Taking a deep breath, I peeled myself
away from the wall, disentangled my hand from Bree’s, and tiptoed over to peer into
the room. A tall, lean blond man, dressed all in black, leaned over the nightstand.

My heart did a sickening flip in my chest.

“Julian?” I said without thinking.

His head jerked toward me, revealing blazing blue eyes.

No, not Julian. Someone younger.

Someone much, much angrier.

“Who the bloody hell are you,” he demanded in a stiff British accent, “and what are
you doing in my castle?”

I gasped. “Oh my God,
Jordan
?”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, stepping fully into the room and holding out my hand. “I’m
Rachel McBride.”

He straightened and turned toward me, crossing his arms. “Dr
.
Rachel McBride?”

I dropped my hand. “Yes, that would be me.”

The man stood there staring long enough to make me squirm, but I couldn’t help staring
back. Jordan Kilmartin was not just alive, he was
functional
. Six months after having his head transplanted, he was actually walking and talking.
It was unbelievable. He was still pale and looked older than his twenty-eight years,
but that was to be expected, especially considering he’d suffered from Bain’s for
five years before the transplant.

“You look— I mean, you’ve made an amazing recovery,” I said. “The last time I saw
you, you were—”

“Decapitated?” he asked pointedly.

“Nooo…” I swallowed. “I believe comatose would be a more accurate description.”

He sneered. “I suppose you’re waiting for me to thank you for restoring the blood
supply to my brain.”

“Not at all.” God, could this possibly get anything more awkward?

“Good, because you’d have an interminable wait.”

“Trust me, I understand. Completely.”

“Oh, I hardly think so but believe what you like. Would it be too much trouble for
you to tell me what you’re doing in my bedroom?”

I looked around quickly. Except for the bed, which had been replaced by an ordinary
king with no headboard, everything looked just as it had when I left. “Your room?”

“Yes. Why, was it your room when you stayed here?” he asked, cocking his head to the
side.

“Er, yes,” I admitted, unable to help flushing.

He smiled, and it wasn’t pretty. “That would explain a great deal, Dr. McBride. Or
do you prefer
McBride of FrankenDom
?”

Oh hell. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“I’m quite sure you didn’t. You seem entirely too sensitive, and it has all the earmarks
of Julian’s twisted little sense of humor.” He glanced around the room. “However,
the room is all you, isn’t it?”

“Actually, it was exactly like this when I arrived.”

“He created this little pampered slave chamber and filled it will all sorts of amusing
toys just for you, though.”

My face was blazing. “Probably, yes.”

He prowled toward me—not quite evenly, but still a prowl. Wearing a long-sleeved black
turtleneck, loose black pants, black sneakers and even black leather gloves, he reminded
me of a panther about to pounce.

“I wondered what sort of female it would take to capture Julian’s attention,” he murmured,
letting his flame-blue gaze slide down my body. “I always thought he was gay.”

“That would be a reasonable assumption, I guess.” I cleared my throat. It was time
for me to get the hell out of Dodge. “Actually, I was looking for Julian. Perhaps
could tell me where to find him?”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, stopping right in front of me. He leaned down until I could
feel his warm breath gusting on my lips when he added, “For a price.”

“All right, I’ve heard enough,” Bree declared, marching into the room. “Back off my
sister now, you asshat, or I’ll make you wish you had.”

Jordan didn’t move, but his eyes flickered to her briefly. “Go away, little girl.
You’re not wanted here.” When I started to step back, he barked, “Rachel, stay.”

I froze, my heart pounding, and his lips curled in a sensuous smile. “Such an obedient
little slave. I’m sure my brother enjoyed the fuck out of you. I’m sure I would too.
What do you say, Rachel? Would you like to shag FrankenDom’s monster, perhaps in the
dungeon across the corridor?”

“Rachel, would you get the hell away from this guy!” Bree grabbed my wrist and yanked
hard, jarring me away from the awful spell of Jordan’s burning eyes. “He’s clearly
batshit.”

He focused on her. “Oh, I am. Certifiably batshit, as a matter of fact. Perhaps I’ll
chain you both up and have some fun with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Good luck catching us if you’re six months post-transplant.
Now quit trying to scare us or we’ll chain
you
up and force you to watch a SpongeBob marathon—the new episodes where he’s lost all
his charm and every word he says makes you want to gouge out your own eardrums with
an icepick.”

Jordan looked at me. “Is she always like this?”

“Pretty much. She’s a nurse,” I added, as if that explained everything. For some people,
it would. “Jordan Kilmartin, my sister Breanna McBride.”

“Delighted,” he sneered.

“Decapitated,” she sneered back. When he stiffened, she taunted, “What’s the matter,
Jordan? Did I hit a sore spot?”

“Get. Out.”

She shook her head. “Not before you tell us where Julian and Colin are. Rachel’s been
trying to reach them for weeks.”

The way he burned holes through her with his laser eyes would have had me on my knees
but she didn’t back down.

Finally he turned to me. “You know where Julian’s rooms were?” he bit out.

“Were?”

“Were.”

“Okay, yes.”

“Then wait for me in his sitting room. I’ll be down to discuss the matter with you
as soon as I’ve cleaned up a bit.”

* * * * *

“Are you crazy?” I hissed as she closed the door behind us. “What were you thinking,
baiting him like that?”

She pressed her ear to the door. “He deserved it.”

“
Now
what are you doing?”

“Shh!”

I scowled but held my tongue.

“Okay, he’s in the shower,” she said, tiptoeing across to the punishment room. “I
want to see what he was doing in here.”

I would have taken her to task for nosiness but I was curious too. When she opened
the door, I reached inside and flipped on the light.

Then I choked back an incredulous laugh. “He was working out?”

Some of the dungeon furniture had been shoved aside to make way for another type of
torture equipment—there was a treadmill, a stair climber, a rowing machine and an
elliptical trainer, no doubt lifted from Hans’ torture chamber. Beyond them was an
impressive set of weights and chains on a stand. He must have been bench-pressing.
Without a spotter, which was very dangerous, especially for a man in his condition.