Hunger Untamed H3 (20 page)

Everything he’d said to her—and things unsaid—he meant. They would get Sage together, if not tonight, then another. He also wished he’d told her that he loved her before now. Before this plan backfired in his face.

“What did you have to do with this?” Lucy asked in a low voice. She still hadn’t lowered her gun.

“They need Sage.” He didn’t want to say more, in fear of tipping off Sage. Victor still had no idea if Sage was responsible for the heinous crimes against the lycans, but he stuck to the notion that he fucking didn’t care. When he went after Sage, it would be for Lucy. Not them.

“So you were never helping me.” Her voice trembled with emotion.

“That’s not true. I taught you what I thought you needed to know so that when your chance came along, you’d be able to handle yourself.”

“But you never planned on helping me get to him,” she said with a bitterness that alarmed him. His gaze went to her trigger finger, certain he’d never be able to talk her out of not using it.

“Collins, your girl is making me nervous. Either get her under control, get her gone or I’ll do it myself.”

Lucy pulled her second gun. She withdrew it way too slowly, though, especially when she tried to turn and sight the lycan. He fired his crossbow at her, and Victor threw himself against her body, bringing her down to the ground just as the arrow whizzed past them both.

The gun managed to go off. He heard the bullet hit the building, but then Sage cried out a moment later. Victor turned in time to watch him slap a hand to the base of his neck. Blood began to leak from between his spread fingers, dripping down his shirt. Shock registered on Sage’s face, as if he hadn’t felt pain or couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to shoot him.

A sense of exhilaration filled Victor. Lucy lay beneath him on the ground, and he looked down to see if she’d seen her results. Instead of seeming pleased, though, Lucy scowled at Sage’s pain. “Not low enough,” she muttered.

A fair point. If she’d managed to hit the bullseye, the center of his heart, Sage would have found it harder to recover. As it was, his physiology would be working on expelling the bullet now causing him to bleed. Too bad they hadn’t chosen to use hollow points or a more lethal ammunition. Whatever damage she managed would only serve to aid her cause.

The lycan walked over and pressed the crossbow against Lucy’s temple. Although Victor’s body covered hers, if the lycan chose to pull the trigger, there’d be nothing he could do for her. Another growl issued from the lycan. “I have no use for you,” he said in a low voice.

Victor had to defuse the situation fast, or neither of them would make it out alive. The lycans no longer had a use for Victor either, and he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking otherwise. Keeping his movements slow and nonthreatening, Victor reached up and cradled Lucy’s face in his hands. He looked into her eyes and whispered, “Trust me. I know what you need.”

She squinted in return, her gaze darting toward the lycan. Tension released in Victor when at last she gave a curt nod. He turned his face toward the lycan, his heart hammering. “We’re good here. Waiting on Locke, and then we’re gone.”

The sound of footsteps grabbed everyone’s attention, and the lycan removed the second crossbow from Lucy’s head. Victor needed just a few more minutes’ luck, get her alone and explain the rest of his plan to her. If she made another attempt on Sage’s life though, he couldn’t be certain what would happen next.

“Merc.”

Victor stilled at the familiar voice. Lucy shoved at him though, so he rolled off, looking at her the entire time. He prayed after everything they’d been through, he could convey a message to her in that singular look.

When he got to his feet, he stared Ian Locke in the face. The bearded lycan with gold eyes ruled over the packs in the Southeastern United States in some form or fashion. Victor couldn’t say he understood their leadership system, but he knew Locke had a crazy amount of pull with every lycan Victor had ever run into.

Victor positioned himself between Locke, the horde behind him and Lucy. If any of them went after her, including the one with the crossbow, none of them would leave alive, and that was a promise. “You’ve got what you wanted. Sage is right there, so our deal is done.”

Locke’s gaze shifted to Lucy. “Who do we have here?”

Although he felt her shift behind him, Victor moved until he completely obscured her. “No business of yours.”

“No,” Lucy said from behind him. He had to ball his fists at his sides and not grab her when she stepped away from his protection and confronted Locke. “I want to know who you sold me out to. Why Sage is going to him instead of me.”

Locke’s eyes flashed brilliant, his wolf pushing to the surface. Victor’s teeth elongated at this show of dominance, a pulse of power pounding through him. He didn’t know a whole lot about lycans and their wolves, but he knew a showoff when he saw one.

“Hello, beautiful,” Locke sing-songed. He bent at the waist, sketching a bow to Lucy. “Ian Finbar Locke, Master of Pack Locke, at your service.”

Victor rolled his eyes. Before this went too far, he stepped in to put an end to the obvious flirtation. “She is my progeny and like I said, no business of yours.”

“But you have business with Sage?” Locke asked, ignoring Victor.

“I do.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get in line. Pack matters necessitate his presence.”

She would not be swayed into obedience. “What kind of pack matters?”

Locke’s face hardened. “And that is no business of yours.”

Victor answered when Lucy looked ready to retort. “He stands accused of murdering Locke’s people.”

“
Oh my God.
”

“Collins, it’s not your place to air our dirty laundry. Like you said, our dealings about this matter are concluded. I suggest you take your progeny and go. Things are about to get ugly with this vampire here, and I doubt you’ll want to witness it. But don’t think I’ve forgotten what you’ve done.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Victor growled.

“You killed two of my pack.”

Fuck
. “Collateral damage, Locke, and you know it.” His heart kicked hard against his ribs, fear for his life and for Lucy’s stealing his next thoughts.

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?” Locke shouted.

Victor moved back, angling closer to Lucy. How could he have been so careless, forgetting about the latest brawl? Hell, what happened if Locke found out about the guys he’d drained at Walmart?

If Locke wanted his life in exchange for his men’s, he’d understand. But since they’d killed more than one lycan, Locke might want Lucy’s life too, and that Victor could not allow. Desperate, searching for
anything
to make amends, he said, “An open favor to your pack. Any service that I can provide. Anytime. No questions asked, no money exchanged.”

It was no simple or easy peace offering, but if Locke accepted, Victor would make good on it. He’d put himself at their disposal.

Locke said nothing. His gaze drifted over Victor before moving to Lucy and then back. “That could prove very useful to us,” he said at last. The steel ball of tension in Victor’s chest began to melt. “Any favor, anytime. If you renege—”

“I won’t.”

Locke nodded. “Then, done.”

“Wait,” Lucy said, pushing past Victor. He didn’t have to see her face to know she’d been agitated beyond anger. “I don’t care what you two have going, but I need Sage. I need him alive.”

“Whether he comes out of this alive or dead will depend on the answers he gives me. I won’t promise you anything.” Locke came closer, reached out and brushed a few strands of hair from Lucy’s face. Although Victor heard the rise of her heartbeat, the cinnamon scent of her transition didn’t flare. If she returned Locke’s obvious attraction, she gave no physical indications. Yet, she’d allowed him to touch her.

“I need him alive,” Lucy whispered. Her gaze went to Victor, and he saw the accusation set deep in her eyes. The betrayal.

Locke didn’t miss the exchange. “I see,” he said softly. “You trusted Collins to bring him to you instead of to us. Didn’t you know you were dealing with a merc?”

An almost imperceptible nod.

“Mercenaries, by their very definition, are always available to the highest bidder. Always. Even in the middle of a deal, they’ll make changes if a new deal comes along that suits them better. Collins is a merc, and whatever deal you made with him wasn’t enough.”

She took a moment to digest this. “How long,” Lucy said, voice trembling, “have you two been working together?”

“It’s been almost two weeks now, right?”

The same amount of time that had passed since he’d first met Lucy. She’d do the math. She’d think he’d been after Sage on Locke’s behalf almost the entire time they’d had a relationship.

It might have started off that way, he might have started off trying to get Sage for Locke, but things had changed. His priorities had changed. What he’d discovered with Lucy had changed his focus and course. He hadn’t known it would end like this, not until yesterday when an opportunity had landed in his lap. But would she believe that now?

They still had a chance to get Sage. Let Locke start what he needed to do, and they’d get their chance. She only had to trust him for a little while longer. But how to tell her? How, when she was already pissed about being a vampire? Feeling like Sage was slipping through her fingers might push her to the edge.

Locke withdrew a business card from thin air and extended it toward Lucy. “If ever you get tired of hanging with mercs and need someone whose word you can depend on, come find me.”

Her gaze had been burning a hole in Victor’s forehead, but she dragged it away long enough to study the card before taking it. “Thought there was some sort of bad blood between vampires and lycans. You do know I’m a vampire, right?”

“Exceptions to every rule. And in your case, I would definitely make an exception.”

Lucy gave him a half-hearted attempt at a smile but took the card. With one last look at Sage, who’d spent all this time glaring at them all from the end of the alley, boxed in by hulking werewolves, Lucy turned her back on the entire mess and began to walk away.

To Locke, Victor said, “So we’re done here?”

“Done, merc.”

With that, Victor hurried after Lucy, but something told him the damage had already been done. Nothing he said or did would get her to trust him again. For that, he’d never forgive himself.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lucy undressed in the rising elevator. She removed the burgundy ballroom gown and faux diamond necklace. The Louboutins she kicked off and left in the corner of the moving car, along with the remainder of her outfit. The catsuit she’d worn underneath would work perfectly for making sure she could move and stretch without hindrance.

The bellman assumed she was going to see one of the tenants on the second floor, not questioning a woman dressed in a multi-thousand-dollar outfit. Besides, she’d known better than to bring an arsenal of weapons with her. Almost everything she’d need to apprehend Sage would be found in his palatial home. She’d stuck to the basics.

Three days since she’d walked away from Victor and from Ian Locke. Her sire had assured her their task wasn’t over just because Locke had Sage, but she didn’t want to hear what he’d had to say. Not when he’d deceived her from the very beginning. How could she trust anything else he said? He’d tried to talk to her, but his words had fallen on deaf ears. Lucy had walked away without looking back.

When the elevator stopped at the second floor, she put her foot on the railing and hoisted herself up. She came close to losing her balance but managed to push her fingers beneath the ceiling tile. When she’d been a human, she would have bet money against herself on doing the required pull-up that got her into the elevator shaft. Now that she had vampire strength, though, she managed it while barely breaking a sweat.

She took her time shimmying up the vertical pole that rose to the third-floor landing. The climb required mostly upper body dexterity, but if there was one thing Victor had taught her, it was perseverance. Her hands slipped a few times, each drop causing her heart to lurch into her throat, but she managed. Might have taken her fifteen minutes or maybe five hours, but she finally made her way to the third floor. Making the elevator work for her, she shoved her hand in between the closed doors and pulled until the doors slid apart, safety levers kicking in.

Sage’s inner sanctum was deserted. Without dozens of other vampires milling about drinking expensive liquor and consuming haute cuisine, she couldn’t say the apartment impressed her. It was showy and pretentious. Way too much for one person to possibly need. It was another way for Sage to flaunt his wealth. She wondered if maybe he found himself getting bored when wandering its empty halls on occasion.

After glancing at her watch, she hurried to where the kitchen was located and looked for needed supplies. She’d give him as easy a death as she could, but she only had the one ash stake. Only one would fit against the small of her back without arousing suspicion.

Locke had told her he’d release Sage a little after four. Not enough time for the vampire to gather reinforcements and retaliate against the lycans who’d held him hostage before he had to go indoors until the sun set again. Lucy figured the born vampire would also be at his weakest, having been at the lycans’ whims for the past three days. An hour before the sun rose also meant he’d probably be hungry, if not starving altogether. She hoped for that advantage. A weakened Sage would be an easier Sage to kill.

With everything taken care of that she could think of, she sat down to wait.

She lifted her head when the chime of the elevator echoed throughout the foyer. The ash stake remained strapped to her right thigh, but the gun with the ash bullets she kept in her left hand.

Sage lurched into his apartment and without comment, Lucy watched.

He’d lost weight. She’d been right in guessing the lycans wouldn’t have fed him. His skin was dry and pale, the normal robustness now little better than lackluster. His hands appeared gnarled, almost crippled, as if he’d developed a severe case of arthritis overnight. The same clothes she’d last seen him in hung off his lean body crumpled and stained. It was almost unfair to take advantage of him in this state.

Almost.

She rose from the seat once he’d cleared the entrance. His eyes opened wide the moment he spotted her directly across from him. At first he frowned, then the recognition seemed to shock him to his core. “You!”

“My name is Lucy Drake, and I was once a blood slave.”

He blinked at her, the confusion spreading. “What are you doing in my home?”

“My sister’s name was Cindy Drake. She died because she’d been fed spice while under your tenure. The short-term effect didn’t appear to cause any harm to the humans who ingested it, but in the long term, the human died a horrible, c-crippling death.” Lucy cleared her throat, willing her voice not to break. She’d practiced this speech enough times over the past days and now that she had the chance to deliver it, she wanted Sage to understand the importance of every single word.

Sage’s eyes darted from side to side, searching. He peered past Lucy and then scanned the upper level. Neither of them needed the light to illuminate the dark corners. They were alone, and now Sage knew it too. “Where’s your sire? A mercenary, if I heard right.”

Lucy raised the gun and fired.

Sage screamed when the bullet punched through his right arm. She couldn’t be certain, but maybe she’d hit a bone that might have shattered on impact. Or maybe if not the bone, she could have hit an artery. He’d bleed out and become even weaker within minutes.

“Cindy isn’t here to defend herself, but I am. I was given a second chance at life and a chance to see you hurt the way my sister hurt before she died.”

The next shot went into his left thigh. The way he dropped like a lead weight, she knew she’d hit something vital. Sage sobbed as he scrabbled against the tile floor. His hands were ineffective in dragging him away from Lucy, who walked closer.

“Where are your men? Where are your sycophants? There’s no one here for you to impress with your power or your wealth. No one here for you to give your blood slave to as a bribe or gift for services rendered. I’m almost disappointed in how easy you’re making this for me, Sage. After all of the training I’d gone through—”

He rose up, as if the sudden confrontation with his own death loaned him strength he didn’t have before. Sage came after Lucy with his incisors bared. Those crippled hands clamped on to her arm, his thumbs pushing up until a distinct snap of her bone made Lucy see stars.

His mouth clamped on to her useless arm, his teeth sinking into the closest artery. He drew her blood with a pull that sent a shiver down her spine. Her head spun from the rush of blood loss.

She’d completely underestimated him.

Lucy screamed in rage as she fought to pull her arm free from him. He’d locked on like a vise though, his arm healing with a quickness she’d never expected. She jammed her foot down on his broken leg, scrambling away from him when he howled in pain.

Blood—her blood—dripped from his teeth, his eyes glowing with a fever as he stared at her. Somewhere along the way she’d dropped the gun and she whirled, trying to locate it. Lucy bit back a cry as her body began to mend, the bones shifting into place at a glacier’s pace.

Giancarlo Sage rose to standing, his eyes trained on Lucy. “Blood slave... You thought you’d get the best of me, that you’d come into
my
home and kill me? I’ve killed more humans and vampires in one year than you’ve known in ten. I am the pinnacle of vampire evolution, and no cheap whore will walk into my home and spill my blood and walk away unscathed.”

He limped closer while Lucy reached behind her for the gun, hand sweeping over the hardwood, hoping to land on something—anything—she could use as a weapon against him. The stake still strapped to her leg was useless for now. She had to get him down first.

When he got close enough, she kicked out, but Sage stomped down on her ankle. She screamed, certain he’d broken this bone also. Pain made her dizzy and nauseated, scrambling her thoughts.

In her haze, she recalled an image of Victor, needing to see that twisted smile one last time. Her heart tripped, a different pain from losing him making her gasp.

A last half-hearted attempt to locate the missing gun, and her hand bumped into a chair leg. Crying out, she pulled the chair across the floor and found the will to throw it against Sage’s side. The wooden chair splintered while Sage dropped to one knee. She rammed the chair at an awkward angle again, but this time it fractured in her hold.

Lucy dragged herself up on one leg, grabbed a broken-off chair leg and slammed down the spiked end into Sage’s belly. A spurt of blood and other matter made her gorge rise, but Lucy grabbed another broken piece, driving into the fleshy part of Sage’s outstretched palm.

She watched him struggle to get to the spikes, but Lucy was already on the move, her hand going to the strap on her leg. Unlatching it, she reveled when his eyes widened as she dragged herself closer. He grabbed her by the hair, but it was too fucking late for him. Lucy threw her head back, allowing him to yank out a large tuft. At the same time, she stabbed the ash stake down.

Directly into the chunk of ice he called a heart.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at him, watched and waited for any sign that he’d survived the fatal blow. She worked on supposition only, never having gone over a true vampire death with Victor. Their lessons incomplete.

She wiped absently at the moisture rolling over her cheeks, determined not to move from the spot until she could be absolutely sure she’d ended his miserable life. She would be sure.

After almost thirty minutes had passed, and Sage’s unseeing eyes hadn’t flickered once, all of the tension in Lucy’s body leeched out. Gathering her aching self, she stumbled her way to the elevator and pressed the down button.

When the doors opened, she gaped.

Two of Sage’s men lay duct-tape-bound in the elevator, their mouths similarly taped shut. Someone had put a blindfold on each, and muffled sounds came from them both when she stepped inside. Certain either of them might break free at any moment, she rolled their bodies into the foyer with a mental promise to herself to call the cops after she’d made it away safely.

Who would have done such a thing and why?

The question answered itself, filling her with reluctant hope. Her heart beat like a steady drum, but she willed it to hold its peace. She ached for him in the worst ways, but she didn’t know if she could trust him anymore. That hurt more than the ache ever could.

The doorman was noticeably absent when she limped through the lobby, the security officer nowhere in sight. It seemed Lucy had a guardian angel who’d taken steps to ensure her plans went through all the way, without unnecessary interference.

She shook her head and once outside, looked for signs of Victor. The streets were empty though and she went home alone.

If he stayed, Victor would have tried to stop her. If he stayed, he would have forced her to listen to him.

If he stayed, he would have ruined any chance at all of winning back the heart of the woman he loved. Instead, after dispatching Sage’s staff, Victor went back downstairs and climbed into his Mustang. He killed a few seconds by staring at one of the windows of the townhouse and then drove away to protect Lucy the best way he knew how.

The hours passed, his thoughts and fears eating a hole in his stomach. The closer he came to his final destination, the more dread and regret weaved into the nauseating emotions.

Where had he gone wrong? He’d been sure Lucy would have at least listened to what he had to say about the lycans and Sage, knew she would have been angry, but understanding. Instead, she’d stormed away. He’d felt like an idiot chasing after her and had ultimately stopped, deciding she’d come around soon enough. Let her take the time to cool off and she’d find him again, either at their place or at the bar. Watching her walk off had killed something inside of him, but she needed space. He’d give it to her.

Except she didn’t try to contact him. Didn’t show at the cabin or the bar. Three days of silence. It shredded him to know he’d destroyed the only chance at happiness he’d ever come close to achieving.

He pulled to a stop a few blocks from his destination and then jogged the rest of the way. The night was damp and muggy, the air weighing him down. By the time he stopped moving, his clothes clung to him in places, sweat beading on his forehead. As he approached, he glanced at the green-and-gray house, and then pulled down a blind over turbulent emotions. Inside the building, the most important job of his life awaited.

Getting inside cost him a few minutes of careful work on the double lock of the back door. Before putting a hand on the knob, he searched his mind for one last time, trying to come up with some other plan—anything else—but alternatives failed him. As if encouraging him, the door swung open without protest.

His careful steps landed on the hardwood floor of a spit-shine kitchen. The smell of bleach hovered everywhere. Stemware and china dried on a rack next to a plastic sectioned plate, a little girl’s face painted on the surface in bright colors. Seeing it made Victor pause.

Would Lucy want children some day?

With a mental curse, he extinguished the intrusive thought and moved deeper into the house. Despite the relative cleanliness of the place, he was forced to pay some attention to the floor where the occasional toy lay in wait. He didn’t mind the sharp objects so much—those would be crushed beneath his boot—but the high-pitched whine of a surprise squeaky toy was a heart attack waiting to happen.

He turned the corner, still exploring, and came face to face with an ash stake held parallel to his eye. Victor stilled, not giving Corin Gerulaitis any excuse to shove it forward and then finish him off with another ash to the heart.

“Just want to talk,” he said. Slowly, very, very slowly, Victor raised his empty hands into the air.

“You come into my home...where my wife and little girl are sleeping? My
baby
?”

Victor couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through the former executioner’s mind right now. A man used to killing vampires on the orders of others. Victor hadn’t told him his occupation when they’d last talked, but in his place, he would have done the research. Surely Corin knew the risk here.