Taken by the Others (8 page)

“Shut the fuck up,” Mr. Muscles–better known as Logan–said, his voice a girlish squeak. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The driver shook his head and turned his attention back to the road. Logan reached into the pocket of the passenger seat and pulled out a small med kit. I had a moment of feeling proud of myself for having done so much damage before I felt those cold, sweaty fingers on my temple again.

“Can I hurt her?”

I twisted away, scared out of my mind by the venom in Nicolas’s voice. The move left me pressed up against Logan, but hey, anything to get me away from a pissed-off Other. Worse, one who was pissed off specifically at me.

“Not yet. Remember what the boss said. He wants to question her,” Logan said, shoving me back toward Nicolas with an elbow. He started dabbing at the cut on his temple with his other hand, cleaning some of the blood off his face with a medicated pad. “Put her out, though. I’m tired of dealing with her shit.”

Nicolas nodded, reaching out to take my face into his hands, fingers digging into my temples as I wrenched away from his touch. He was grinning at me, an odd light in his eyes. Was that fae energy or simple insanity? After a few seconds, searing pain blasted through my skull, so abrupt and painful I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

Then there was darkness.

Chapter 9

I woke up on my stomach on a thickly carpeted floor, my hands still cuffed at the small of my back. I had no idea how much time had passed, or even what time of day it was since there wasn’t a window in the room. Judging by the slightly damp feel to the air and the musty scent, I thought I might be underground, possibly in a converted basement. The only illumination came from a few candelabra on large brass stands.

Despite the clammy feel to the air, the place was lovely and spacious. The carpeting was a pale cream color, and the molding and oaken furniture had gilded scrollwork, the gold reflecting dim candlelight. A large walk-in closet with mirrored sliding doors was left open, revealing more ball gowns and ladies’ dress shoes than a bridal depot at the mall.

Whoever dragged me in here hadn’t thought to dump me on the thick, comfortable-looking bed done in crimson and cream, and I groaned as I twisted onto my side and struggled to sit up. At least I was left to sleep off whatever Nicolas had done to me on carpet instead of hardwood. And hey, I was still alive. My ribs ached, but the pain wasn’t so sharp as to make me think they’d been broken. That much was a blessing.

However, I had no idea where I was or what my captors wanted with me. I was alone in the room, and when I awkwardly tried opening the single door with my cuffed hands, it was locked.

I spotted my purse on top of a dresser. With a little ingenuity, I unzipped it and spilled out the contents on the floor. My cell phone and mace were still there, mixed in with my makeup and breath mints. Once the screen of the cell was illuminated, I saw that it was well past nightfall, almost nine. Thankfully it was still Saturday. I hadn’t lost an entire day to unconsciousness, so I figured they must be planning to do something with me on a relatively immediate basis. Joy of joys.

It took some shifting and twisting and struggling, but eventually I slid my arms under my butt and got my hands in front instead of behind me. I quickly texted Sara, Arnold, and Chaz a message:

KIDNAPPED! SEND HELP! THINK IT IS MAX CARLYLE, CALL COPS OR ROYCE OR JACK/WHITE HATS. DON’T KNOWWHERE I AM. CAREFUL, HE HAS MAGE ON HIS SIDE. (NICOLAS?)

I frantically jabbed at the send button as I heard a key in the lock and the handle of the door jiggling. The phone slid across the top of the dresser and fell off as I scrambled for the mace, backing up as far from the door as I could get. There weren’t any good hiding places, and with my hands bound, I felt more than a little vulnerable.

Worse, Peter was the first person through the door. He grinned nastily when he spotted me, baring fangs and stalking closer. I found myself abruptly backed into the farthest corner, looking around frantically for something more useful than mace to attack him with. Since he was a vampire, I couldn’t be sure it would work on him. Maybe I could use one of the candelabras to hit him or set him on fire?

Nicolas trailed into the room next, followed by a man I didn’t know. My big worry was the vampire right in front of me, so I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to them just yet. One bad guy at a time.

Peter moved human-slow. He didn’t have that deadly speed and grace that Royce commanded. That didn’t stop him from being fast enough to cut off my attempt to escape as he grabbed my arms. He lifted me up and shoved me back, cracking the back of my head against the wall painfully enough for my vision to blur and the little canister to drop out of my bound hands.

“That’s enough. Put her down,” said the man I didn’t know. Peter might’ve obeyed if I hadn’t kicked him as hard as I could before he had the chance.

Peter staggered back, wincing. More evidence that he hadn’t been turned very long; he still felt some modicum of pain at a blow from a human. However, it wasn’t enough to get him to drop me. Rather, his fingers tightened punishingly around my biceps, making me gasp. After a moment taken to recover, he glared and pulled me away from the wall, shoving me back in the direction of the mage and the guy who I was guessing was Max Carlyle.

The guy caught me before I could fall to my knees. His grip was tight, but not painful. He carefully set me back on my feet, making sure I could stand before he let me go. I glared at him as I straightened, not in the least bit grateful for his help.

“What the fuck do you want me for? Let me go!”

He smiled, amused with my reaction. I noted that his features were similar to Royce’s in that he had a strong jaw and swarthy skin. However, his hair was dark brown, cropped short but still showing hints of curls almost as riotous as my own. His eyes were an odd shade of dark gray, crinkling at the corners when he smiled, and he was a bit shorter and stockier in build. His taste in clothes was impeccable; he looked sleekly sophisticated in a dark business suit. He didn’t look like evil incarnate, but he obviously had something sinister in mind since he shook his head at my request, politely refusing to let me out of this place.

“You’ll have to excuse the drastic methods I took to have your company. I couldn’t be sure Alec wouldn’t spirit you away before I had the opportunity to speak with you.”

I growled at him. “Max Carlyle, right?” He nodded, and I ground out, “Did Peter neglect to relay my message for you to just pick up a fucking phone and call me like a normal person? Or is the lack of consideration on your part a delightful little personality trait?”

He laughed and shook his head, reaching out a hand to lightly brush his fingers through my hair. I jerked back from the touch. “Yes, he gave me your message. A phone call wouldn’t suffice for this. I want to know what happened the night Anastasia died. You were there. Tell me.”

I shifted my weight uncomfortably and looked away. “She betrayed you. When she came back to New York, she joined up with a guy named David. He was a sorcerer.”

He said nothing, simply stood quiet and motionless, waiting for me to continue. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to, but since the silence was getting awkward, I felt obligated to say something. “He made a thing to control the local Weres and vamps. I think it was called a Dominari Focus.”

“The Dominari Focus? Go on.”

“David’s plan was to use it to set up shop and settle down for a nice long eternity with Anastasia, using Royce’s fortune to live out their little twisted fantasy and the local Weres as bully-boys to make sure they stayed on the top of the food chain. With some help, I destroyed the focus, and Royce and the Weres got rid of Anastasia and David.”

“I see. They killed her?”

“Yes,” I said, wondering how deep of a hole I was digging for myself and for Royce by admitting as much.

He voiced a soft “hmph” and stood there looking puzzled, one hand rubbing at his clean-shaven chin. Those unnerving gray eyes shifted back to focus on mine, and I quickly shifted my gaze away to avoid them. More out of habit than necessity when I was wearing the charm, but something told me it was a good idea not to take chances and avoid eye contact. “Was she under the influence of the focus at the time? Could you tell?”

“No, she wasn’t. She and David were in on it together. They loved each other.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. He reached out with that same impossible speed that Royce commanded to grab my shirt collar. He dragged me close enough to see the little pinpoints of red in his eyes and exactly how long his fangs were as his lips pulled back in a snarl. Petrified, I froze, unable to keep myself from staring into his eyes as he hissed at me. “She was mine. She loved me, not that talentless little spark.”

Hoo boy. This could get ugly fast if I didn’t do something. “I–I’m sure you’re right–”

“Of course I am!” He shoved me back, sending me sprawling on the bed as he started pacing back and forth. I twisted up to a sitting position as fast as I could, wondering what the heck I could do to placate the pissed-off vamp. “She loved me, and Alec took her away.”

For a second, I had this hysterical thought that I was stuck in a bad movie. Come on, was he seriously spouting lines like that?

Those hellish red eyes were once again suddenly, terrifyingly focused on me, frightening enough to kill even my perpetual sense of humor. “He values you. It doesn’t matter why, but since he does, I’m taking you for my own.”

“What?! No!” I rolled off the bed and to my feet. Peter was there to stop me from running before I had my footing. He shoved me against the bed, a hand on either shoulder and one leg leaning heavily against both of mine to keep me from kicking him again. I used my clenched fists to pound at his broad chest instead, but it didn’t seem to be doing much to hurt or deter him.

Max was seething, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he stared at me. After a few moments taken to collect himself, the angry glow in his eyes faded to pinpoint sparks and he turned to the vamp whose grip I was still vainly struggling to escape. “Peter, you can have her for now.”

The look on Peter’s face was terrifying. “Yes, master.”

Max growled a low warning. “Keep her alive and unharmed enough to speak. I need to make some calls, and I may have more questions later. Nicolas, guard the door. If she tries to escape, you know what to do.”

I didn’t see Max or Nicolas go, only heard the door closing behind them. My attention was too wrapped up in trying to wriggle and twist out of Peter’s grip. “Let me go, damn it!”

“No.” He laughed at me, thick fingers twining in my hair and yanking my head so hard, my back was forced to arch so he wouldn’t break my neck. Involuntary tears of pain sprung to my eyes, and I tried raking my nails across his face. He caught the chain between my wrists with his free hand before I could do any damage, forcing them down.

“You don’t seem like such a tough little bitch now. What, no begging?”

I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, trying desperately to think of something to say, something to do, anything that would get me out of his hands.

“No one here to stop me this time,” he whispered. I could feel his fangs brushing along my collarbone, trailing up to my neck. He paused over my jugular, and for that moment I forgot how to breathe, feeling tense enough to snap. He pulled back, eagerness and triumph lacing his voice. “Royce is going to hate that Max gave you to me. How many times has he bitten you, huh?”

I didn’t know how to answer him. My scalp was tingling from his grip on my hair, my back was starting to develop a twinge, and my ribs were screaming a silent protest from being held in such an uncomfortable position. Hot tears stung my eyes, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“What, no smart remarks this time? Not that it matters.”

As he leaned in close again, I screamed, though I knew it wouldn’t help anything. God, oh God, he was going to bite me, he was going to kill me–

He let go of my wrists and clamped his hand over my mouth to stifle my screams as his fangs dug deep into my throat.

Chapter 10

You know, I’ve heard all kinds of conflicting stories on what it’s supposed to feel like when a vamp bites you. It’s been said it can feel like anything from the most orgasmic experience in your life to the most unbelievably painful. It’s definitely one of the most terrifying. It’s hard to explain, but while any of those descriptions fit, neither describing it as pleasurable or painful does it justice.

At first, it felt like exactly what it was–someone was jabbing sharp, pointy objects in my skin. It hurt. Before long, it changed, becoming something else. Something better, yet infinitely worse. Like fire in your veins and lightning down your spine, you can’t move, think, or breathe around the shock of it. It seemed to go on forever.

When Peter reluctantly pulled away from my throat, I was left gasping for air, lying limply on the bed. Sometime during the course of feeding on me he’d let go of my hair. He backed up from me, wiping thin trickles of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. My blood. I thought I just might throw up.

“No wonder Royce wants you. You taste good,” he said rather breathlessly, licking his fangs clean of their faint crimson sheen. I shut my eyes and took deep breaths, trying to stop crying and keep from being sick. I wasn’t being too successful at either of those things. My hands shook, rattling the chain between them as I lifted them to prod gingerly at my neck. “Too bad you’re such a pain in the ass.”