Vampire Elite (41 page)

I need to see her.
Goose bumps crawled up his arms.
 

He shook them off, forced his attention back to the task at hand. “Is there a way I can see the new girl without her being able to see me?”
 

“Certainly, sir. Follow me.” George opened one of the metal doors. “This is our office. Please come in.”
 

They entered a clean, spacious, well-lit room that was more medical lab than office. Monitors lined one wall; shelving lined another, holding sterile containers, blood bags, plastic-wrapped needles and tubing, and other equipment. A refrigerated unit stood against a third wall; Anock could see several containers of blood through its glass door. Man, that was a lot of blood.

“We just had this week’s feeding. What are those? Leftovers? Or do we always keep this much backup?”
 

“No, sir. We were instructed to draw extra blood for cocktails; the pride is expecting guests tonight.”
 

“Right.” Shit. A couple of weeks ago they’d scheduled a party for tonight, for other Elite who wintered in Egypt. Obviously Tor wouldn’t show up, but it was too late to cancel or reschedule, so the rest of them would have to play host.
 

“The new bloodstock’s arrival was certainly well timed, sir. The existing stock have all been bled for the pride’s feeding and again for tonight’s cocktails. I was concerned that they wouldn’t tolerate further draining, but of course it wouldn’t do to run short on blood.”
 

Tolerate?
Anock pictured the bloodstock fighting back.
 

Oh. George meant that the draining might have killed them. But wait—

“Are you telling me that you
bled
the new bloodstock?”
 

It was only when George flinched and stepped back that Anock realized he’d gotten up in the human’s face.

“Excuse me, sir, but isn’t that why she’s here?”
 

How much was he supposed to tell George about the situation? Tor hadn’t gone over that with him.
 

“No. Not that one,” he finally said, stepping back to give the guy some space. Wow, the human was gutsy. If Anock had been George, with a Sekhmi acting that aggressively, Anock would’ve ... well, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. Partly because he was thinking about his version of the same problem: Tor getting in
his
face and yelling
Are you telling me that they
bled
her?
Maybe—hopefully—Tor would never find out. But if he was going to find out, Anock would have to be the one to tell him before someone else could. Tor had made him responsible. It was bad enough that Arianna had been bled at all, but the King would kill him, maybe literally, if he found out from someone else that it had happened, that Anock had kept that from him—

“Sir? You wanted to see the new bloodstock?”
 

“Yes, please.”
 

“Here she is.” George pushed some buttons on a control panel in the center of the bank of monitors, and four of the screens blinked, switching to display Arianna’s room from different angles. She lay curled on her side on the bed, a thin blanket pulled up to her chin. In the muted coloring of the security cameras, her bright red hair seemed to have lost its color, which saddened Anock for some reason.
 

There was more button-pushing, and then one monitor zoomed in on her face. It was totally expressionless, but streams of tears rolled from her eyes, and Anock could make out a wet patch on the pillowcase under her head.
 

“She’s been like that since the King left,” George was saying. “Most new bloodstock resist when we draw their blood, but she acted like we weren’t even there. We didn’t even have to bind her. Though of course we did,” he added, as though worried that Anock might accuse him of breaking a rule.
 

Anock was opening his mouth to respond when the office door flew open and Theores burst into the room, yelling “where is she?”
 

“Who, madam? The new bloodstock?” George looked stunned. For a moment, Anock pictured the scene through the human’s eyes, and it did seem totally crazy. Anock almost felt sorry for the guy.
 

“How did this happen?” Theores demanded, addressing Anock, ignoring George completely.
 

Anock took her by the elbow and led her into the hallway to explain everything privately.
 

“This is completely unacceptable,” Theores snapped when he’d finished. “We have to fix it, somehow.”
 

What the hell was going on? Yeah, okay, it was “unacceptable”—though Anock would have used a different word—but it was also what they’d agreed on. What would they do other than accept it? And what was Theores trying to fix, anyway? As far as Anock could tell, there was nothing
to
fix, nothing fixable. Other than Tor’s broken heart.

“George!” Theores yelled, heading back into the office, leaving Anock to follow her. “The new one is not to be drained. Do I make myself clear?”
 

The human nodded, but Theores wasn’t paying attention. She’d torn open the refrigerator door and was pulling out containers one by one, removing their lids and sniffing them. Then she took one container—presumably of Arianna’s blood—to the sink and dumped its contents down the drain.
 

Anock watched, dumbfounded at the waste. All Amiti blood was worth its weight in gold, but the Queen’s was surely priceless.
 

Theores washed the container, leaving it in the sink, and turned to Anock. “This never happened. Her blood was never taken. I want us all to stay alive.” Anock nodded silently.
 

“Now take me to Arianna’s cell,” Theores ordered George. As she and the human left the office, she called to Anock, over her shoulder, “I’m going to live with her.”
 

What the hell?
Anock thought for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few hours. First of all, no way would Theores make it through even one night in a bloodstock cell. She could rough it with the rest of them when absolutely necessary, but staying in a cell when she had all the luxury she’d ever want in her own private suite a couple of floors up? Why would she even make that offer? It was crazy.
 

Motion caught his eye and he focused on the monitors again, watching their different views of Theores and George entering Arianna’s cell. Theores spoke to George, apparently dismissing him, because he backed out of the cell and closed the door behind him. Then she approached Arianna, her lips moving, and began to stroke her hair. Arianna ignored her.

It seemed that Anock’s work down here was done; there was nothing he could do for Arianna that Theores couldn’t do at least as well. He’d come back later; Theores would probably lose interest soon.

But then he looked at the monitor to the right of the ones showing Arianna, and he actually heard himself gasp. It showed another female curled on a bed in almost exactly the same position as Arianna, though all he could see was her back. He knew, right away, that this was her, the night-blooming lily. Suddenly frantic, he scanned the other monitors, but she didn’t appear in any of them.
 

He was standing over the control panel, about to switch the four central monitors’ view from Arianna to his Amiti, when George came back into the office. Anock found himself looking at the human, pointing at the monitor as though he was asking George a question.

“Would you like to see her?”
 

Anock hesitated. Did he really want to? Could he face her? He froze, an unaccustomed feeling of shame swelling inside him at his sudden, alien indecisiveness. Why was this so hard?
 

He shook it off. “Yes. Take me to her.”

Chapter 55

With growing anxiety Anock stepped into the gloomy cell. The female on the bed reacted only by slowly raising her head, her eyes betraying mild surprise that he wasn’t George.
 

Goddess
, those
eyes
: huge, sad, jade-green.
 

The world tilted on its axis. It was the female from his dreams.

He’d been searching for her for three years, knowing that someday they’d find each other. But not like this! Imprisoned. His
bloodstock
.

Anock’s mind rejected the idea. It couldn’t be. The whole time he’d been dreaming of her, searching for her, his angelic, affectionate, beautiful girl, his goddess with the captivating eyes, had been imprisoned in the basement, beneath the floors on which he walked every day—and within his reach—and her sole purpose in life had been to provide the blood needed to enjoy the life he lived: his Ferrari, scuba and sky diving, rock climbing, racing, travel; good times with his pride, brothers, and friends.
 

Speechless, Anock backed out of the room. “Bathroom ... ?” he asked George hoarsely.
 

“Of course, sir. Follow me.”
 

When he got there, Anock locked the door with trembling hands and leaned against it for a moment to catch his breath. Then he bent over the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on his face, trying to quell the nausea churning through his gut. Since that seemed to help , he stuck his head under the stream of cold water. This was ridiculous.
Breathe, Anock,
he told himself—
And stop being such a pussy. You’re the leader of the Guardians. Suck it up.
 

Finally, after gathering his confidence and checking that he was breathing normally and steady on his feet, he returned to the cell.
 

“My name is Anock Sabe, the Wise,” he said as he approached her bed.
 

Dear Sekhmet, she looked so helpless. He took her hand and stroked her thin fingers. They were so cold, so pale.
 

Oh
. It was because of the blood loss. She’d been drained enough that she couldn’t keep herself warm.
 

“Can you speak?”
 

She inclined her head slightly without taking her eyes off him. Could she be as awestruck as he was?
 

“What’s your name?”
 

“Cara,” she murmured, barely moving her lips.
 

“What a beautiful name. What does it mean?”
 

“Beloved.”
 

Anock had no idea what to say or do next. He felt an urge to thank her, or apologize, or maybe comfort her. It was all too awkward. So he just stood there, dumbstruck, and gazed into her eyes.
 

She was so close, so dear to him already. He knew that on some level he was blood-bonded to her. He thrived on her blood; her blood was in his veins. Maybe that was why for the past three years she’d been coming to him in his dreams? Was it possible that she’d also been searching for
him
in
her
dreams? Had they found each other at last? He bent over and gently brushed her forehead with his lips.
 

The girl’s eyes widened.
 

As Anock withdrew, he realized that it was the first time in at least three years that anyone had touched her with any intention other than to take her blood. It suddenly seemed more horrific than the other deprivations she’d suffered. Now he understood why Arianna always longed for Tor’s company and hated being separated from him for even a few minutes. After having been kept in one of those cells for nearly a year, and then experiencing the King’s adoration, how could she possibly survive in one of these cells again? This type of torture was beyond comprehension.
 

For the first time Anock thought that maybe the Keepers of the Key had a point. Vampires
were
monsters; maybe they did deserve to die as punishment for the cruelty they inflicted.
 

Anock wheeled around and left the room without looking back.

Totally bewildered, he returned to his apartment and tried to bury himself in Guardian business, going through the database and answering emails from his people, but his mind kept obsessively returning to Cara. Her sad eyes and cold, pale hands filled his vision. It was unbearable. He had to do something for her. But what?

A few hours later he was called to join the pride downstairs and greet the arriving guests. He’d forgotten completely about the party—and having been reminded, he didn’t want to go.
 

By the time Anock had changed into a black shirt and slacks and sauntered into the main hall, all the guests were already there, circulating through the room in evening gowns and tuxedos, chatting amiably and sipping their drinks.
 

Leon immediately approached Anock and pulled him aside. “Where’s the King?”
 

“He’s not coming.”
 

“What are we going to tell the guests?”
 

“Dunno. Sorry.” Maybe they should have cancelled the party? Even Theores wasn’t there, and she was the best stand-in for Tor. But it was too late now; Anock and the other pride members had to play host and take care of the guests.
 

“A drink, sir?” A waiter emerged in front of him with a tray. Automatically, Anock selected a Pink Sunset and brought it to his mouth—and then froze.
The night lily!
The drink had Cara’s blood in it.
 

Slowly, controlling his rage, he looked around the room. Almost every Sekhmi there was holding a Pink Sunset as they laughed and flirted, enjoying the euphoric combination of Champagne and Amiti blood.
 

In Anock’s inner vision he saw once again the dim cell and an exhausted, slender female on a small cot in the corner. His jaw tightened. Goddess, how much he hated being one of the Elite. He turned on his heels and stalked out onto the sundeck.
 

The air was saturated with the scent of the seaweed that the tides had brought to rest on the shore. Cara couldn’t smell it. Bouquets of celestial white roses in extravagant crystal vases adorned every corner of the deck. Cara couldn’t see them. Two cats sprawled leisurely across the deck’s wooden planks: the pride’s Bengal, Basted; and Ismen’s Persian, Lovely. Setting his drink on the rail, Anock squatted down, rocking back on his heels, and sank his fingers into Lovely’s lavish fur. Cara couldn’t feel it.