Blood Doll (8 page)

“Ready?” he asked, bypassing her comment and his own sudden distaste for the costume.

“Not really.”

“Me either. Come on.” Taking her hand, Christian led her outside and to the car. “I thought we might try this a bit differently this time,” he added, opening the passenger–side door of her car for her. “Plus this will buy Harlan a little extra time.”

“But what about Sarah?”

“Sarah isn’t going anywhere yet. If they plan to make a meal out of her, it won’t be until midnight.” Lana looked down at her watch and groaned.

“That isn’t very reassuring,” she said. She looked scared, and he couldn’t really blame her. If it had been his sister in that situation, he’d have been just as anxious.

“It is. We have time.”

Despite his constant reassurances, Lana was jumpy all the way into town. Every time the car slowed at a traffic light, roundabout, or street sign, she would tense and stare out the windows, as if waiting for the darkness to descent and sweep her away. Rather than trying to reassure her, Christian chose to remain silent. It would do no good to give her false hope.

He steered the little car into a parking space near the docks, then turned and took her hand. Even with her new existence, Lana still shivered. The look in her eyes was one of wild terror.

“I wish I could tell you this would turn out all right,” he said, regretting the words as her chin began to tremble, “but I can’t do that. This will be dangerous. You have to stay alert. Don’t let your emotions betray your common sense, Lana.”

“Are you telling me not to be scared?”

“Only a fool would go in there and not be scared. Just don’t let your fear cloud your judgment.”

“Point taken.” She sighed, hesitated a moment, then opened her palm to reveal the small, plastic container holding her contacts. “Do I put these in now?”

“Yes.”

Lana groaned, but pushed the small, glass discs into her eyes. “They hurt… and yeah, they really do make it hard to see.” She dug around in the console and came out with a mirror. Turning it from one side to the other, she squinted at it, and made an awful face that would have normally made Christian laugh.

Lana tied her mask into place, hiding the upper portion of her face, save her eyes. When she turned to look at him, Christian could not suppress the shudder that raced through him. The white makeup coupled with the new, blank stare momentarily made him forget that he was not looking at Sarah.

“Christian, what’s wrong?” she asked, and hearing the difference in her voice helped clear the sudden fog in his brain. He shook his head and pushed open the car door.

“Nothing,” he said. Letting her know how awful her sister looked beforehand was likely a bad idea, so he opted again to keep his mouth shut. “Stick close to me,” he said as he took her hand and started down the sidewalk. “Don’t speak unless spoken directly to. Don’t answer any question—let me do the talking.”

“Why?”

“To make this work, we have to make them think that you’re a scab. The eyes are perfect.” Within a block of the club—he could already hear the noise and smell the stench of sweating human bodies in moldy costumes—Christian pulled Lana to a stop and backed her up against the wall. “There’s one more thing,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t scream,” he said, lifting her arm and digging his fangs into her forearm. She let go a high, keening squeal, but by the time she was able to draw in the breath to scream properly, he’d let go of her. “One more time,” he said. “This one is probably going to hurt worse because your arm is already in pain… but the marks are necessary.”

“Couldn’t we have done this with makeup?” She whimpered, hanging her head as she cradled her bleeding arm.

“They know the difference between makeup and scabs. Now give me your arm.” She did so, but reluctantly. Christian lifted her arm again, this time sinking his teeth into the flesh just above her wrist. Cool, sweet blood flooded his mouth with each beat of her rabbiting heart. Even as one of his kind, Lana still had the sweetest blood he had ever tasted. And she was a young enough vampire that she still tasted human. Mostly.

“Isn’t it just going to heal?” she asked, her voice strained with pain as he took her hand again and started around the corner.

“Yes, but you’re still human enough that it will take time. The scabs should already be in place. Just don’t pick at them and we’ll be good. And,” he added, pulling her to a stop again, “whatever I say in there, do not under any circumstances react.”

She grunted, but otherwise said nothing as they turned and started across the street toward the old warehouse. Humans and vampires alike scurried along the sidewalks, all in costumes as outlandish as his own, if not more so. Many humans had opted for the same costume—the bad vampire getup really was overdone, though he saw no one else dressed remotely close to Lana. It could be both a blessing and a curse, he knew… she would be easy to find.

She would also be easy to find.

And the more she stood out, the more dangerous this ruse was. Christian only hoped as they walked up to the new scab at the door and passed into the hallway without a word that Harlan pulled through in time.

“Play blank,” he whispered, pulling Lana close to his side. She shivered beside him, but she followed along obediently, her mouth slightly opened, possibly in awe or terror. Either way, she was as blank as she was going to get.

Christian started across the floor, weaving his way through the couches and chairs filled with addicts and hopefuls, all the while very aware of the curious stares on both him and Lana. From the dark corners of the building, he caught sight of eyes sparkling in the darkness. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat—the watchers had spotted them already. They would be lucky to make it to the bar before they were cornered.

The eyes moved toward them, followed by the dark-skinned faces in which they were set. Not good.

“Shit…” he mumbled, tightening his grip on Lana. “We’ve been spotted… we have to hide.” He tugged her forward, moving through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Bodies writhed around them, threatening to break them apart. Some of the dancers turned to glance at them, but most were so drunk on their blood cocktails that they never even noticed. If he remembered correctly, the hallway that would lead to the private quarters was near the stage. If they could just get to the hallway…

“Where do you think you’re going, Sterling?” The deep, booming voice cut through the noise of the music as a hand came down on Christian’s shoulder. He tried to shake it off, but the grip was like a vise. Instead, he pulled Lana under his arm and shielded her from the brute rounding on him.

“Garrett,” he said with a chuckle. “Nice to see you again…didn’t I rip your head off the other night?”

“That was my brother, shithead. What the hell are you doing back in here?”

“I have a gift for Xanthe,” he replied. “I thought she might like a pretty, little snack.” Under his arm, he felt Lana tense, but she otherwise did not respond. She kept her head down and her lips parted. “I’ll just be taking her up now.”

“Not so fast.”

“Oh you’re going to announce my arrival?” Christian grinned up at him. “Fabulous. I’ll just be taking the scab to the hall to wait.” Jerking his arm out of the large vampire’s grip, he turned and pushed Lana through the crowd, into one of the side hallways, and backed her up against the wall, using his body and the ridiculous cape he wore to block her from the view of the rest of the club.

Chapter Nine

“What the hell, Christian?” Lana snapped, punching at his chest. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. He actually had the nerve to offer her up as a sacrifice to the one person she wanted to get away from?

“Hush,” he ordered, pressing her back against the wall as he laid his hand over her mouth. “I told you not to react, and I’m glad you didn’t. I had to tell him something to get rid of him. If he got a good look at you, he’d know.”

“How? I’m in costume with makeup!” she mumbled from behind his hand. Lana considered biting him, but the smell of blood, vampire or otherwise, might set off a riot in this hellhole.

“Everyone here knows Sarah.” He moved his hand from her mouth.

“Be glad I can’t see well enough to rip your head off.”

“I thank the stars every second.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and only served to anger her more.

“Ass.”

“Always,” he replied. He used his considerably larger size and strength to back her farther down the hall. “No matter what happens from here out, don’t for a moment think that I’m going to willingly let anything happen to you.”

“You offered me up as a meal!”

“Only to get us in.” Through the milky haze of the contacts, she could see very little other than his vague outline. “And don’t be pissed, but I might have to do it again.” Her rage threatened to boil over, but when his fingers gently grazed her cheek, she forgot all the reasons why she wanted to tear his throat out. “And for the record,” he lowered his head until his lips just touched her ear, “nobody gets to eat you but me.” Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers, feeding at her lips and tongue. She could taste the makeup on him, but when his hands slid up under her ruffled skirt to the curve of her ass, she forgot to care about the way she looked. She pushed her own hands under the cape, sliding her palms over the ridges of his abdomen to tug his shirt free. His skin was cool and taut, and when she hooked her fingernails and scored his chest, he let out a deep, low growl.

He moved to her throat, his fangs grazing her skin as he continued to tease and taste, lifting her from the ground. She twisted her legs around his hips, clinging to him as he pushed away the layers of fabric between them, balling it up between her body and his. Cool fingers tickled over the opening of her sex and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Lana tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers as she rocked her body forward against his fingers, silently pleading for more.

Christian obeyed, curling his arm tighter around her thigh and pressing his fingers deep inside her. The muscles in her back tightened as she clamped her body around his fingers, causing her to arch away from the wall, pressing her breasts hard against his chest as she took in the sensation of his hand moving against her. Each feeling, each new touch or caress seemed more acute, more crisp and clear than it had the first time. But she’d been human then, and her senses had been much duller.

“Christian…” she whispered against his lips, clinging to him for dear life as she moved over his hand, showing him what she craved. He captured her mouth again, twisting his fingers and stroking in long, deep movements until she balanced on the brink of oblivion, then pulled his hand away. Lana gasped, her whole body tensing in surprise and agony.

Within half a second, he took hold of her hips, jerked her forward, and buried his cock inside her. Her mouth wrenched open in a silent scream and she threw her head back as her body seized, pulsing in much-needed release. Still he continued to thrust, hard and fast, her back slamming against the wall with each movement. Each pass of his cock, the feeling of his hips hitting hers, renewed the pulse of pleasure in her center.

Small grunts of pleasure escaped him as he moved, using his hands to lift and position her perfectly for each thrust. Lana thought that delicious friction could not get any better, even as the sparkles of orgasm subsided, but his lips found her throat again, and a second later she felt the sharp sting of his fangs breaking the skin.

Each drop of blood that left her vein was felt. Each pulse of his throat as he drank of her resonated through his lips, and each hard thrust of his cock deep inside her took her higher and higher until she thought she would lose consciousness.

Outside the sphere of his arms, Lana still heard the heavy beat of the music, the sounds of pleasure from the humans and vampires alike on the main floor. They were only a dozen steps from the dance floor…surely anyone could turn and see them.

Christian broke away from her neck, grabbing her face and jerking her head back so that he could kiss her. Tasting her blood on his mouth, Lana forgot that anyone else was even in the building. The odd sensation of drinking herself came over her, and three hard thrusts later, she shattered again, followed quickly by his muted howl of ecstasy.

He leaned against her, his breathing fast and shallow, and laid his head against her shoulder. Lana clung to him, her own heartbeat too rapid to be considered human, her body still shaking from the power of their coupling. Never in her life had she experienced something so forceful, so exquisite. It would be so easy to get lost in him.

When Christian finally settled her back to her feet, she expected the wobbliness that accompanied human clumsiness, but it never came. He took a step back to adjust his clothes while she repositioned her own skirt, then adjusted the garters on her stockings that had come loose.

“When this is over,” he said as he pulled her close again, “you and I are going somewhere very far away, and not coming out for a very long time.”

“Sounds good to me,” she replied, leaning up to kiss his lips. “Let’s get this over with so we can get on our way.”

“Good plan.” Christian took her hand—she could feel a tremor in his skin to match hers—and led her deeper into the building. As the sound of the music faded into the background, so did the scent of human blood. This new hallway felt cold and damp.
Like a tomb,
she thought with a startling shudder. The whole building felt like death.

From one of the rooms above, Lana heard the sound of a woman’s laughter. It sounded as hollow and deathly as the building felt, and it made her blood run cold. Christian’s fingers tightened around hers, and without being told, she knew exactly who had made that sound.

Xanthe.

Fighting the sudden urge to run, Lana followed Christian up a flight of stairs and into another cold, dark hallway. New scents, more crisp and clear, met them halfway down. Humans were up here—she could smell their blood. She could hear their desperate gasps for breath. The thought of such misery made her hungry. And the hunger she felt at the thought of misery was revolting.