Authors: Michelle Rowen

Tags: #Fiction, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Horror, #Occult & Supernatural

Bloodlust (25 page)

BOOK: Bloodlust

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“Keep walking,” Noah said.

“Trying to.” I stumbled on something on the ground and a cool hand reached out to steady me. I didn’t see who it belonged to, but it slid up my bare thigh under the edge of my skirt and headed north. I slipped away from whoever it was before they got any friendlier.

“She’s for Alex,” our guide snapped. “Hands off unless you want it permanently removed from your body.”

That helped save me from any more groping, but I still felt the curious stares weighed down with hunger as I moved through the hot room, silent except for the sounds of feeding or grunts and moans of pleasure.

There was a mirrored wall in front of us that reflected the darkly lit Hieronymus Bosch scene behind me. The Silver Cross was my first vampire sex club. I sincerely hoped it would be my last.

My own image was reflected before me—heavy makeup, midnight black hair and eyes, and a tiny tight dress to match. Long bare legs, stiletto heels. I looked like someone who belonged in a place like this. The thought wasn’t much of a comfort.

Our vampire guide opened a door hidden in the mirror that led into another dark room. Noah was about to walk through, but was stopped.

“Just the human,” the guide said.

“Jill—” Noah began.

“It’s okay.” I swallowed hard and took a deep breath to steady myself. “Wait out here for me. I’ll be fine.”

Noah frowned. He might be acting as if he was totally in control, but just being in a place like this had pushed him a little further over the edge. His eyes were black and hunger had branched over his cheekbones.

He nodded. “Try not to die.” It might have sounded like a joke if he didn’t look so serious.

I stepped through the door and it slowly closed between us. I then realized that the mirror was two-way glass, and from this new room I could see everything that was going on right next door. This was an observation room.

“I was told to expect you.”

I stiffened at the smooth, deep voice and fear snaked through me.

Showtime
, I thought.

Time to be a killer.

THE ROOM WAS LIT WITH CANDLES. HUNDREDS OF them. There was a huge room with an enormous bed to one side. On the bed were several naked bodies—at least three: two men and a woman—tangled in the bloodstained white satin sheets. They weren’t moving. I hoped they were only sleeping after a completely consensual threesome.

The rattle of chains to my right grabbed my attention and my head whipped in that direction to see a monster dhampyr straining against its bindings. It was naked, with pale translucent skin, thick pockets of which drooped from its protruding abdomen. It had an alien appearance—slightly human, but mostly not. It was bald, with a large flat face and enormous eyes that were entirely black. Thin white lips peeled back to show ragged, sharp teeth and a thick black tongue. At the end of its long thin arms, each of its tapered fingers was tipped with a razor-sharp talon—the same talons a monster dhamp used to claw its way out of its human mother’s body.

I shuddered with fear and disgust at the sight of it.

“Blooooddd,” it moaned in a hoarse whisper. “Waanntt bloooddd.”

“Ignore him. He’s always hungry.”

Be strong
, I thought as I pushed down a sob rising in my throat. I found myself frozen in place unable to look away from the monster toward the man who spoke.
This is about survival, nothing else. As soon as you can kill this vampire, the sooner you can get the fuck out of here.

“Seems like something that’s hard to ignore,” I said.

“He won’t hurt you if you don’t get close to him. Come here.”

I swallowed hard and finally tore my gaze away from the chained monster to focus on the direction of the vampire’s voice. Through the darkness of the room I could see him seated on a metal chair.

A wheelchair.

I forced myself to move toward him, straining to see what awaited me. The high heels pinched my feet. My heart drummed painfully in my chest, and a cool trickle of perspiration slid down my bare back.

“I can smell your fear,” Alex said. “Practically taste it.”

As I drew closer I stifled my shock as I finally saw what was in front of me. There had been one time when this vampire had been devastatingly attractive. Dark hair brushed his shoulders, his face was akin to a male model’s with sensual lips and high cheekbones. Broad shoulders. Square jaw. The works.

But he had no legs. And he had no eyes.

I inhaled sharply.

He smiled. “Kristoff didn’t warn you about what I looked like?”

“The subject didn’t come up.” My voice sounded weak.

“I lost these in a war a very long time ago.” He touched his thighs that had nothing below the knee. Then he touched his eyes, sunken and blackened. “And I lost these in a fight a bit more recently than that.”

“A fight.”

“The sun isn’t a friend to my kind.”

His eyes had been burned away because he’d gone out into the sunshine. I’d heard about the results of this, but I hadn’t seen it for myself. Alex had been blinded and that made him much more vulnerable now.

“I can smell your pity,” he said. “Trust me, it’s not necessary. My senses are much more acute now than they ever were before.”

“I don’t pity you.”

“Disgust, then?”

“Just surprise, that’s all.”

He leaned back in his wheelchair. “How do you feel about being given from one vampire to another? Is this your thing?”

“My thing?” My shoes pinched me. It was distracting.

He leaned forward a little. “Are you a whore, Jillian?”

I stiffened. I guess that was what this seemed like—me being sent out from Kristoff like a fruit basket in a tight black dress. “I’m not a whore. I’m a prisoner.”

“So you have no choice.”

“Pretty much.”

“But you’re not fighting it. It makes me believe he’s blackmailing you in some way—perhaps keeping someone you love captive to make you go along with his plans.” He absently played with a large gold ring on his index finger that was set with a huge ruby. It was the ring Kristoff wanted me to take as proof of his death.

I eyed him and the ring warily. “Sounds like you know him.”

“It’s been a long time since I last spoke with him, but some acquaintances leave a lasting impression. Kristoff is one of them.” He cocked his head. “Come closer. Since I can’t see you I’ll need more evidence that he sent me an acceptable gift.”

I wanted to stay hard and focused right now, but I couldn’t help the disgust, and, yes, pity I felt for this once handsome and once human man. I cast a glance over my shoulder. The monster dhampyr was silent and watching me, its chest moving in and out. A line of drool slid down the side of its mouth to the floor.

I got close enough that Alex could smell more than just my fear. This time he was the one to inhale sharply. “My God. Your scent . . .”

I tensed. “I’m kind of special.”

“He sent word that your blood is ambrosia—food for the gods. That I’ve never tasted anything like you in my entire existence.”

That was an understatement if ever I’d heard one. Kristoff really wanted this guy dead, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t seem to be any threat. He might be the leader of the Amarantos Society, but he couldn’t function without assistance. He was blind. He couldn’t walk. He was helpless. Why send me to do Kristoff’s dirty work when anyone willing to kill would do?

Then again, why not? I already knew Kristoff enjoyed his experiments. I was yet another experiment. He didn’t think I could do it and I wasn’t entirely convinced of it myself.

“Closer,” Alex said.

Any closer and I’d be sitting on his lap.

I forced myself to lean toward him and I willed my sympathy for him to go far, far away. This wasn’t a normal veteran of a war who’d sustained serious injuries fighting to keep his country free. This was a vampire who owned a sex club and had three unconscious—possibly
dead
—humans in his bed no more than twenty feet away from us right now, not to mention a monster dhamp chained to his wall. He was a sightless predator on wheels.

Feeling sorry for this guy I had to kill wasn’t going to make this any damn easier.

“Yes, you smell good.” His lips curved. He placed his cool fingertips on my face and slid them over my forehead, my cheeks, nose, chin, and jaw. One hand slid into my hair, which he brought to his nose so he could inhale its scent. “You’re warm, too.”

“Ninety-eight point six.”

He touched my hands for a moment, my short nails, my palms. His touch wasn’t rough, but it did nothing to relax me. Apart from my fear, I didn’t like being inspected like a slab of beef to determine my quality. He touched the silky material of my dress, his hands skimming down my sides. I stiffened and he stopped at my waist.

“Nice dress.” His smile looked slightly wicked at the edges. I’d assume blood was not the only thing Kristoff had promised from my visit.

“It’s borrowed.”

“Color?”

“Black.”

“What color is your hair?”

“Black.”

“How old are you, Jillian?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“You’re different from what I expected.” His hands moved back up to tangle in my hair and he brought my face down level to his.

“Am I?” I felt sick to my stomach. How far was I willing to go to make this work? I would have thought he’d already have bitten me by now, but nothing had happened, only a light groping that I hoped was over. “What were you expecting?”

“I’m not sure.” He leaned back in his wheelchair a little, his face tilted up as if he was gazing at me. “Assassins are usually a bit more forward than this.”

I froze. “What?”

“I know who you are, Jillian. I know
what
you are.”

I shifted back, but he had my hair so tightly in his grip I could barely move. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the woman with the poisoned blood. And Kristoff sent you here to kill me.”

Busted. The thought was like a physical blow. I’d expected many things from this encounter, including putting myself directly in harm’s way, but I hadn’t expected that he’d already know about me. If I ran, I’d never get out of here alive.

I swallowed. “Are you going to kill me?”

His lips thinned. “That depends on how you answer my next question.”

I didn’t struggle any more. I watched him carefully. “What’s the question?”

“Did Kristoff’s immortality ritual work? The one he shared with Matthias?”

“I don’t know.” I didn’t trust Alex. He was the leader of the secret society that initiated the ritual in the first place. Sara’s safety was in jeopardy if anyone knew about the ritual’s effectiveness. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I think you do know. Matthias drank your blood. He still lives, doesn’t he?”

“It—it’s true. At least, the last time I saw him he was still . . . alive.”

A look of relief crossed Alex’s tense expression. “Good. Kristoff needs to be removed from the throne. He never should have been released from his prison.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

“It’s never too late.”

I watched the emotions play on his face. This wasn’t a subject that held any apathy for him. He was convinced that Kristoff was just as evil as Matthias said he was. “You were expecting him to make an attempt on your life?”

“Of course.”

“Why? What are you to him? Just a rival? An enemy?”

He smiled, but it lacked humor. “We have a long history. Kristoff sired me three hundred years ago. He, Matthias, and myself—we had a great deal of fun together for a very long time. But they had much more drive than I did. I was fine with simply existing. They wanted power.”

“So they killed the last king.” It was a guess more than anything.

“Yes. He was a fool, the old king. Half mad. He was easy to defeat since his subjects were ready for a change. Matthias and Kristoff agreed to share the power—they were so alike back then. Kristoff is the older by minutes so he was to be first, and after an agreed-to time, he’d hand the throne over to Matthias.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No. He changed his mind. Power had gone to his head, and it affected his and Matthias’s relationship. That’s when he discovered the immortality ritual. He hoped it would bind him and Matthias together eternally, so he’d be forgiven any of his sins. Matthias felt otherwise.”

To say the least. “That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The ritual that killed Kristoff’s daughter.”

“Yes. But Matthias’s distrust and growing abhorrence toward his brother was a long time coming.”

BOOK: Bloodlust

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