Belonging (14 page)

He abhorred witches. They’d ruined his fucking life. Took away everything that’d mattered. His mind involuntarily drifted to a time long ago. A time that he wished could be scrubbed from his steel trap of a memory…

How long had he been here? Months? Years? Time had lost all meaning, days and nights blending together endlessly one after the other. He was in constant agony, often wishing for death but dreaming of revenge. Why hadn’t his family rescued him yet? Why had they forsaken him?

He heard his cell door creak but was too weak to open his eyes. They starved him, keeping him anemic, near death. Preventing him from using his powers to escape. A lyrical voice spoke to him, demanding he look upon her. He wanted to tell her to fuck off, but that took too much energy. His eyes cracked open with great effort. She was beautiful, but a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A devil disguised as an angel.

“My lover, I brought you a treat.” His monthly pint of blood. The bare minimum he needed to simply survive, but far from what was necessary to thrive. What he would be required to do to earn it made him want to deny her. But his body wouldn’t let him. Already his incisors had dropped at the smell of the sweet nectar. His gut clenched in anticipation of the life-giving substance. His head flew off the concrete floor toward the bowl she held, but was vehemently jerked back by the bindings. He was naked, all extremities bound, in addition to his neck and torso. Magical bindings he had no way to expel.

“Ah, ah, ah, lover. First things first.” She began to disrobe, baring her perfectly formed body. His traitorous cock became hard at the sight of her. As always, he willed it down, but the fucker wouldn’t heed his command. He’d sooner cut it off then stick it in her. She eyed him up and down like a candied treat and he could smell her arousal. It made him physically sick and he turned his head to dry heave.

She sauntered over, lowering herself onto him. He closed his eyes in both agony and ecstasy. She knew better than to get too close to his mouth, for given the chance, he would surely find enough energy in reserve to rip her fucking throat out. He’d done it before.

Instead, she sat back and rocked her hips back and forth, up and down moaning in pleasure. She was an expert. Not all could make him come, but she could. She always did. When they first sent her, he fought orgasm sometimes for hours, but in the end she always won. The outcome was always the same. Now he raced to climax so it would end sooner. She hated it, as she liked to draw out her pleasure. As soon as he’d uncovered that little fact, he’d changed tactics.

As he peaked, she reluctantly eased off him, using the glass vial to catch his semen. He roared in sheer misery as she rammed her sharp fingernail into his scrotum, taking a thimble full of blood as always.

She quickly poured the bowl of blood down his throat, making him choke, spilling the precious liquid down the sides of his dirty face.

She dressed quickly and got the hell out of his cell. The blood would renew his cells, providing a short burst of strength. While he’d never completely escaped, he’d come close a couple of times, killing the witches unlucky enough to stand before him. She apparently valued her pathetic life too much to gloat.

And so it went. This same pattern unceasingly repeating itself. What they did with his bodily fluids he didn’t know, but it couldn’t be good. They were witches after all.

He awoke in confusion. Had he heard a scream? No…the only sound he ever heard was the opening and closing of his prison door. How long had it been since a witch had visited him? It had to be close to a month now. He felt himself slipping away. If he wasn’t rescued soon, he would die at the hands of these vile creatures.

A shrill cry broke the silence. Then another. Followed by yet another. His ears filled with the agonizing, pained cries of the witches that held him hostage. It was bliss. After all this time, had his family finally arrived? He was close to death, but even if he perished, it would be with the knowledge that these vicious witches suffered the same fate. That was his last thought before he blacked out.

His next thought was that he wasn’t dead. He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting the attack on the witches’ coven to be a dream, but as he focused on the thatched roof, he knew it to be true. He had been rescued. But by whom? He was weak. Could barely turn his head. His body was in anguish.

“You’re awake,” said a deep voice. A large imposing male vampire stood in his peripheral vision; he turned his head to get a better look. The male was not familiar to him. He scanned the room for his family. Where were his papi and his brother, Thaddeus? His mimi?

“They are dead, I’m afraid. In their quest to find you, they all perished at the hands of the sorceresses. I am sorry.”

Grief smashed into him like a falling boulder. So his family
had
been looking for him. All this time. The witches had taken more than his life; they had also taken his family’s. Wrath quickly replaced grief. He would get his revenge. Once he regained his strength, he would kill each and every last witch walking the face of this earth as painfully as possible, starting with the coven that had kidnapped him. He would set them ablaze with his fire, burning them alive. His anger and grief would be fuel for vengeance.

“Who are you?” he croaked. He needed some water. And blood.

“I am Romaric Dietrich. Your mimi asked for my help after your papi and brother disappeared. I am a hunter of sorts.”

“How did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy. The sorceresses were very powerful, but I am more so.”

“I need blood.” He needed to regain his strength. He needed to get the hell out of here and plot his reprisal.

Romaric was quiet as he handed him a goblet filled to the brim with blood, which he downed in only three gulps. He handed him three more, dealing with them in a similar manner.

“They are all dead, Damian.” At his confused look Romaric added, “The sorceresses. The entire coven is wiped out.” While he was grateful, he was equally angered. He wanted revenge by
his
hand, not another’s.

It had taken Damian a month to fully recover from his seven-year ordeal. At least physically. It took several centuries to recover mentally. To this day the urge to murder every fucking witch alive still lingered.

Rom had stayed with him for the entire month of his physical recovery. They’d struck up quite a friendship and, as his whole family had been slayed at the witches’ hands, he’d followed Rom, learning at the hands of the most powerful vampire he knew.

As the United States was discovered and became more inhabited, and therefore more unruly within their world, they’d divided up the U.S. into three Regents, with Rom becoming Lord of the West, Devon Lord of the Midwest, and Stefan Moor, Lord of the East until he was beheaded more than one hundred years ago. Damian worked under Rom until he was able to take over the East Regent after Stefan’s demise. Damian was also responsible for Stefan’s death when he’d challenged the tyrant for control. Stefan was a vicious bastard who ruled the East with fear and deceitful intent, often breaking their only two covenants.

“You know, my friend, you have a mate that’s been waiting for you.”

Meddling Rom
. You couldn’t get anything past him.

“She’s a witch.” He hadn’t meant to say anything; it just slipped out. He could solve his own damn problems now.

“I know,” Rom replied flatly. That caught his attention, his eyes snapping to Rom’s.

“What do you mean you know? How do you
fucking
know?” If Rom knew and hadn’t said anything to him, he was going to cut off his head. Friend or not.

Rom smiled. Actually fucking smiled. Mark the calendar.

“I knew the moment I laid eyes on her. Her aura shines bright, like a star. She is a perfect mate for you, my friend.” Rom was very matter of fact, like he was reading the goddamned
New York Times
instead of telling him he knew she was of a species he detested.

Damian was speechless for a full minute. “How could you not tell me?” he finally uttered.

“Damian, you cannot define someone by
what
they are, but rather
who
they are. You have never learned that lesson over all of these centuries, no matter how many times I tell you. Not all witches are evil, just as not all vampires are evil and not all humans are evil. There is evil in every species, but there is also innate goodness. Your mate has goodness in spades, and if you shun her simply because of
what
she is, you will lose the best thing that ever walked into your lonely life. Think about that. And then get your fucking ass back to her. She needs you, you asshole.”

After the tirade, Rom walked out, leaving him gaping. In addition to his unusual swearing, that was the longest number of words he’d heard Rom string together…ever. And they were pretty fucking powerful words.

And he was right. Rom was always right, even if Damian fought against him. It was not a surprise—he was the oldest, most powerful vampire he knew.

With that, Damian went in search of Analise in an effort to make up for his larger-than-life failure today.

C
hapter
22

Analise

She couldn’t process the images in front of her. This could not be real…yet she knew it was. How could she be here? Where
was
here? Why hadn’t she dreamt of her before now? She felt evil all around her, seeping into her pores. It was so thick it oozed from the walls, ceiling and floors. Malevolence hung in the air like black, sticky tar.

And Beth was in the middle of it. Lying on a thin mattress resting on the concrete floor, staring vacantly at the water-stained stucco ceiling. Her glassy eyes didn’t blink. She lay unmoving even though she wasn’t restrained.

It had only been three weeks, but she’d lost significant weight. Weight she couldn’t afford to lose on her already slight frame. Her beautiful blonde hair was matted, gnarly and dirty. She wore a filthy white bra and panties. Her wrists and ankles were bruised and bloodied. She had visible bruising in the shape of fingerprints on both biceps as well.

It was then she noticed the blood that soaked the mattress where Beth lay. Oh God, was she even alive? Analise whispered her name. Ridiculous. It was a dream. Beth obviously couldn’t hear her.

Except…was it her imagination or had Beth moved her unfocused eyes slightly? She tried again.

“Beth. Can you hear me?”

This time, Beth’s eyes began roaming around the ceiling, her brows drawing together in confusion. Holy shit. Had she really heard her?

“Beth, it’s Analise. Can you hear me?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling down the side of Beth’s face.

“Analise,” she whispered on a broken sob.

Analise started sobbing, making Beth cry harder. She didn’t understand what was happening at all, but she needed to pull herself together and help her friend.

“Beth, where are you?”

“Analise…”

“Beth, concentrate. I need you to tell me where you are.”

“I…I don’t know. Oh God, I’m losing it.”

She ignored that comment. She thought maybe they were both losing it, so she couldn’t really reassure her.

“Beth, honey…think. Tell me anything you can that seems useful. Anything. Hurry.”

“Where are you?” Beth was now looking all around the room in confusion. Analise felt she was running out of time and this was going in circles.

“Beth, focus, please! Any details you can share will help me find you.”

“I don’t know where I am, Analise. Someone jumped me on my way home from work. They drugged me and I woke up here. They are vampires, Analise. Vampires.”

Analise felt sick. She had been right all along. She’d been right to seek out Devon Fallinsworth.

“What else, Beth? What else?”

“They do things to me. Horrible things.”

“How many are there?”

“I don’t really know. I’ve seen at least a dozen different ones. There are also humans here too. Doctors or something. And other girls like me.” Beth started crying hysterically. “Please help me, Analise. Please help me.”

The turning of Beth’s doorknob stopped their conversation short. Beth’s sobs turned to screams as a ginormous vampire walked into the room, a malicious grin on his otherwise handsome face. “It’s time, female.”

Beth started to scream in earnest now…
“Nononononono…”
Then…silence. Beth simply went limp. Stopped screaming, stopped flailing. Analise could only watch in horror as the giant vampire picked her up like a feather and carried her from the bare room, closing the door behind him.

Analise awoke screaming, and Damian burst through her bedroom door, smashing it to smithereens. He sat on the bed, rocking her in his strong arms until she stopped crying and babbling nonsense. He repeatedly asked her what was wrong, but she simply couldn’t respond. She could do nothing but shake her head for several minutes.

“Kitten, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Please tell me, baby.” He was stroking her softly, her head tucked underneath his chin. She’d missed him, not understanding why he’d suddenly taken off when she’d needed him most. The other vampire she’d seen in the club, Romaric, had escorted her back to her bedroom when she got lost. He was scarier than hell.

“I saw Beth. I fell asleep waiting for you and I saw Beth in my dream. I talked to her. And she talked back.”

He froze. “Have you ever dreamt of her before?”

“No. I don’t understand what’s going on. We carried on a fucking conversation
in a dream
. How is that possible?” Her pitch increased with every word.

“What did she say?”

She pulled away from the comfort of his chest. “I just told you I talked to my missing friend—in a dream—and you ask what the conversation is about? Don’t you find that line of questioning a little odd?” She’d never stopped to think that was exactly what she’d done with Mara all these years, talking and interacting, but surely it was different, right?