Under the Full Moon (Crimson Romance) (13 page)

“If you kill me you’ll never find her.” Yeah, Red tried for brave, but the stutter in her voice told him she was far from it. Their little rat was reconsidering which side her furry ass was buttered on.

“If you don’t help us, I don’t see I have anything to lose in extinguishing a threat. Do you?” He was nose to nose with her and when she finally braved looking upward and caught his glare, he saw her decision before she even spoke it.

“Don’t lie, Red, I reviewed enough in your mind to know whether you are speaking the truth,” Lily threatened.

“And if they don’t kill you for lying, you will wish they did by the time I get done with you,” Beth promised, inching closer to Red herself.

“In the dark. They have her in the dark.” Red started crying openly. Her entire body shook in defeat and, no doubt, fear.

“What the hell does that mean? In the dark?” Damien growled, shaking the woman so hard her teeth clattered together. “Tell us now, damn you.”

Squire grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back. “Ease up, friend. She’s already agreed to tell us.” Damien sensed the other man wasn’t the least bit upset that he’d shaken Red, but rather had a good cop, bad cop plan. “Why don’t you wait over there with your friend?” He motioned to where Trick stood.

A slight nod assured him the questioning was far from over. Merely different tactics.

“I’ve told you already. She’s in the dark.” Exhausted, Red glanced at Lily, who nodded her head at Squire that she spoke the truth.

“Where would this dark be exactly?” Squire accepted a damp cloth from Bev and proceeded to wipe the cool comfort across Red’s forehead.

“I never saw but … ”

“But what?”

“Demetrius smelled kinda funny when he got back from dropping her off wherever he’s hiding her.”

“Funny like how?”

“Like death.”

Grace awoke slowly with a nasty medicinal taste in her mouth.
Ugh
. She sat up and grabbed her head.
Damn, how much did I drink last night?
Then remembered, none. She hadn’t even gone out. Damien had been curled around her and she’d been the most relaxed she’d been in weeks.

So how the hell did I end up here? Where was here and why does the weird aroma seem so hauntingly familiar?

The room around her was rather dark and the lounge she lay across covered in crushed velvet. A few moments later her eyesight adjusted to the dim surroundings and her heart stuck in her throat. All around her sat caskets. Some opened, some shut, but all most certainly caskets.

As if that weren’t creepy enough, a light methodic melody played on speakers anchored in the corners of the room.

Standing on wobbly legs, Grace eased her way over to the opened black box and relief soared when she discovered only satin fabric and no dead body. Grabbing the lid to the next one, her heart stuttered as the creaky lid opened. Empty. After verifying all were vacant of new owners, the realization she woke up in a funeral home showroom sank in. How the hell did she go to sleep nestled safe and secure in Damien’s arms, only to awake in this God awful place?

Honestly she didn’t know which was worse. All the coffins or the too clean, too powdery scent. Then the music stopped and everything became deathly silent.
Creepy.

“Hello, Grace, I see that you’ve finally awakened. I trust you had a decent sleep.”

Oh fuck a duck. Demetrius.

“Bed was a bit lumpy, but yes. Slept like the dead.” Everything in her to refused to show fear. Yeah, he freaked her the fuck out, but he damn well wasn’t going to know.

“Ah, very good then. I’ve taken the liberty to plan the day for us. First dates are so important. First impressions and all. Don’t you agree?”

She’d agree he was a complete fruitcake. Boy, did she hate that overrated Christmas gift. Not as much as Demetrius though.

“Well, I hadn’t expected you to be too chatty yet. If I may draw your attention to the shelves over in the far corner. Yes, the ones housing the urns. On the third rack you will find several boxes. Consider them gifts to show my affection for you.”

“You know I’m super cranky in the mornings. Look like shit actually. Oh and I suffer terrible flatulence. You should find a better girlfriend. Less gas, more glitter.”

“Enjoy the gifts, Grace. Oh and I expect you dressed and ready within the hour. I’d hate for us to get off on the wrong foot.”

A click resonated around the small room when the speaker shut off. Grace sprang for the only door in the room and tested its strength. Fuck. Solid wood. Taking a few steps backwards, she ran full steam and threw her body into the door. She bounced right off, landing unceremoniously on her ass.

Shit, shit, shit.
She massaged her throbbing shoulder and surveyed the door
. Not even a damn crack.

Well hell. Sprawled on her ass on the floor wouldn’t help anything. She glanced toward the boxes he mentioned and supposed she should prepare for her meeting with Demetrius. Maybe he really was as stupid as he seemed and she could play this out to her advantage. Convince him she’d had a change in heart. Show some interest in him or his organization.

Before her on the shelf sat numerous elaborately wrapped gifts. She gathered the shiny bowed packages and took a seat back on the lounge she woke up on to carefully peel back the paper as she feared what may be inside. The man was insane. Unwrapping a heart or bloodied hand would gross her out, but she wouldn’t be shocked. Her nail scored under the tape holding the lid down and she held her breath — and her stomach.

Royal blue silken fabric. An elegant dress met her wary gaze. Nervous, yet relieved, she grabbed the next box. A matching pair of stilettos. Had this been Christmas, she’d be cursed at for moving so damn slow. But one couldn’t be too cautious when opening gifts from a lunatic. The other gifts held a sapphire necklace, earrings, and the matching bracelet. She thought herself past any shock. But sadly the final wrapped box held a humdinger.

Thigh highs, a royal blue thong and a matching push-up demi bra. Shudders racked her at thoughts of the pervert picking out lingerie for her. Glancing up at the clock on the wall, she was down to thirty-five minutes before the designated time he’d given her. Crap. Unsure of her choice yet, she paced the room.

Play along with him or look for weapons? Surely there had to be something in the room he’d missed removing or putting up away from her. A small credenza stood over in another corner of the room. Racing over she yanked on the doors, scavenging through each drawer looking for anything that might be used against him.

Argh. Not a damn thing even resembling a weapon.

Each drawer housed literature on the different type of caskets and urns the funeral home offered. Not even a damn pen worthy of jabbing his eyes out turned up.

Guess that answered whether she would play along or fight back. Unless a pillow fight with satin pillows counted, nothing else lay around. She eyed the heel of the stiletto but knew to make the shoe count as a deadly weapon she’d have to get up close and personal and that would be far too risky.

Time to gussy herself up she supposed, fighting but not succeeding in suppressing another shudder at the prospect.

With a heavy sigh, she removed Damien’s shirt, lingering when the fabric passed her nose. The mere scent of her shifter brought tears to her eyes. Even if he’d already begun scouring the earth to find her, she didn’t even recognize where she was confined. Prayed wherever Demetrius took her for the “date” would provide an opportunity for escape. Rubbing the fabric against her cheek one last time, Grace hoped Damien’s unique male scent would linger and piss Demetrius off.

Oh my God. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?

Not wanting to stand around naked, she slipped the dress on. The cool fabric, which normally would have created a luxurious sensation, only created terror as it slid against her naked skin. Once clothed, she brought Damien’s shirt to her face again and breathed in his smell while mentally sending a message.

Damien, I’m being held in a funeral home.

She ran back to the literature drawer. Damn. What company didn’t promote their name on their brochures? Oh. All the pamphlets were from the casket manufacturers and not the actual funeral home. Double damn.

Damien … if you can hear me try to think me something. Concentrate really hard.
Damien might not be telepathic, but she was. All he had to do was concentrate on broadcasting his
thoughts while thinking of her.

Glancing at the clock again, she realized she was down to twenty minutes before Demetrius arrived. Not wanting to chance dressing in front him, especially putting on the underwear, bra, and thigh highs, she continued sending Damien mental thoughts of her surroundings. The pale blue walls, dark wood furniture and even a possible date the building was constructed Though having seen only the room where she now stood, she had no doubts this building or house was old. Like historical kind of old.

Once she’d wiggled into the under things and slid the sheers into place, she slipped the heels on and waited. Impatient and nervous, she fidgeted with her hands in her lap. Then she got up and paced. Minutes later she returned to the lounger and fidgeted again.

The sound of metal on metal stopped her wiggling and her heart. A key was turning the lock.

Demetrius had arrived and the time for second thoughts long over. She steeled herself to do whatever necessary to survive and prayed with everything in her Damien had received her message. Wasn’t a lot, but she knew her shifter was crafty and had a sense of smell that put a bloodhound’s to shame. He’d find her. He had to.

“I knew the blue would look stunning on you. And the fit. Please stand and do a little turn. Isn’t that what women like, showing off their goods?”

His crass comments disturbed her, but she hadn’t expected anything more from him.

She stood on legs she willed steady and did a slow turn, schooling her face devoid of emotion for when she faced him again.

“Yes. Simply lovely. Are you ready for a day filled with surprises?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, I’m afraid you don’t. But how well our day goes depends entirely on you. I would suggest you remember that and make the most of my gracious nature. When you sprinted around the room looking for I assume a weapon, I grew worried. But then you surprised me and changed.”

Grace swallowed the bile that rose. “You spied on me changing. Doesn’t seem like a gentlemanly thing to do.”

“No, I suppose not. However I didn’t think you’d leave me much choice. But let’s put the unpleasantries behind us. You changed your mind as is a woman’s prerogative so let’s move forward now.”

He didn’t need to add the or else, it was there. The unspoken, underlying threat.

“Very well. May I at least inquire as to where we are going?”

“Oh and spoil the surprise? I think not.”

Demetrius came her way she assumed to lead her out, but no. He came nearly nose to nose and his gaze dipped to her cleavage. He didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t ogling. Worse, she knew he’d already seen everything.

“My dear, haven’t you forgotten something?”

Her stomach threatened to revolt as she feared he wanted a kiss … and relief washed over her when instead he leaned past her to pick up the jewelry box. She’d forgotten to put on the sapphires he’d given her.

“Turn around.” A quiet demand.

Grace hated turning her back to him but did as he instructed. Better to keep him happy. At least for now.

“Lift your hair for me, darling.”

Again she followed his orders and bit back her retort at his endearment. She was not his fucking darling. Not now, not ever.

She belonged to Damien.

Even thinking it calmed her. Gave her the strength she needed for whatever he’d planned.

“Now there we are. Perfect. The icing atop the cherry. Oh my. Rather backwards, but suitable I believe. Yes?” He still stood behind her. So close she felt the heat from his breath on the back of her neck and refused to think about the thing poking her in the small of her back. He damn well better have his phone in his pocket.

Not trusting the words that might tumble forth, Grace took the safe road and nodded instead.

“Yes well. I believe we are ready for our adventure now.” Demetrius took her arm at her elbow and ushered her toward the door. She sought the front door the minute they’d cleared the threshold to the room, formulating immediate plans to bolt.

Shit. Bastard had her blocked in at every turn.
The ass actually had guard shadows?

“Yes. Pretend they aren’t here, my sweet.” Demetrius walked right past the two inky shadow figures standing outside the door. Since he seemed determined to play Mr. Sweet and Accommodating right now, she decided maybe she could learn a few things.

“So, not trying to be rude or anything, but exactly what are they?” The figures had the outer shape of a man, but no true substance. The closest description had she needed to describe them would be if someone dumped ink over the invisible man. The outline stood solid, but nothing else.

“They are my creations. Not my mother’s, but those I bore.” He beamed from pride.

Moss had nailed his assumptions of Demetrius. A cocky son of a bitch with clear mommy issues. Well his mommy died, so the asshat’s excuse was gone.

“How, uh, creative. Now, exactly who are they?” No way could she keep the sarcasm from her voice.

“Not who. You were right the first time. What.”

“I’m biting. What are they?” she pushed.

“Swamp gas.”

She tripped on the small lip of one of the stepping stones lining the front walk. “Did you just say swamp gas?”

“Yes. They possess no human DNA within their matter. They cannot be killed or harmed, should you think of trying to escape. Which I would urge you not to try. I’d like today to memorable. In a good way, that is.”

Jackass thought today wouldn’t be memorable? Hello, kidnapped by a mad scientist ranked in things she doubted she’d ever forget.

She turned and saw the vehicle before her. He had to be kidding.
A hearse? Seriously?