Last Vamp Standing (6 page)

“So what’s the plan?” Ruan said.

“You get Roxy into one of the back rooms and get her chained up. I’ll head downstairs, rummage through the rooms, and find the elder you’re looking for. By the time she’s hot and heavy, wondering when you’re going to pounce, we’ll be out of here.”

“If I just walk out mid-play she’s going to scream olly-olly-oxen-free and rain therians down on our parade.”

“You’ll get a phone call from some jealous, possessive lover and have to check out early,” Dante said as Roxy swept into the entry.

She draped an arm over each of their shoulders, smelling like rum and a gagging variety of off-brand mall perfume. A drunkard’s dream date.

“Shall we, boys?”

They pushed through a floor-sweeping velour curtain running from ceiling to stone, and headed straight for the spiral staircase on the right. Dante didn’t miss the stairs on the left that curved upward to the second level. Juan Carlos was probably sleeping up in his loft, his eye and nose busted from Dante’s superior handiwork. Part of him ached to pay him a second visit. One that’d land the warped ringleader six feet under.

Instead, Dante followed Roxy down the first step into the pit of the warehouse. He glanced down into the center of the theatre, where twenty-four hours earlier it’d been bustling with therians, vampires, and celebrity mundanes aching to buy a piece of elder magic.

Ariana had been there—
right there
—in the center of the ring, standing tall and regal, refusing to answer a single one of Juan Carlos’s demands. She’d refused to give her name, no matter how he’d smacked her around.

Dante never realized how attractive stubbornness could be until he laid eyes on Ariana. Her petite lips had pursed. Her plush little cheeks had flushed hot. She’d driven the crowd wild with her show of strength.

Tonight, though, the miniature coliseum was empty and hollowed. Like Dante’s soul on a purge night. Movie theatre seats were plush and dark. Thick swags draped down the sides. It was Underground Goth. Where both the money and women were dirty . . . all except one.

Ruan and Roxy led the way downstairs, Dante trailing closely behind. As he took the final step before descending completely into the pit below, a flash of light from above caught his eye.

Juan Carlos had turned on his light.

A door squeaked, opening on the second floor. Someone was headed to the main coliseum level and would be on them in a second. Dante really didn’t want to explain their reason for being here to another dumb ass.

“Ruan, hold up.” Dante picked up his pace, meeting them on the basement level. Doors slammed shut. Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs dropping to the first floor, across the wide stage and toward the basement staircase. “Remember the plan I had earlier ’bout the way this would go down?”

Ruan nodded, his emerald eyes glowing in the overhead amber lights.

They didn’t have nearly as much time to look for the elder as Dante thought. “We gotta work double time.”

“Ooh,” Roxy purred, dancing her fingers down his chest. “I’ve always been a fan of doubles.”

Roxy had no idea what was about to go down. They just had a massive change of plans. Not only would she have to be chained, she’d have to be quiet. “Roxy, how do you feel about being bound and gagged tonight?”

She shivered beneath his stare. Her body rippled, the leather crinkling as she pressed against him. “Oh, cowboy, you
do
remember what I like . . .”

Chapter Five

“More elders are dying by Savage’s hand than by all causes combined over the last five hundred years. His powers are now unmatched. We are sending a Watcher to shadow his every move and relay info.”

W
ATCHER
A
RCHIVE, UPDATE

W
AITING FOR PROJECTION
jitters to wear off, Ariana drew her knees to her chest and squeezed. Closed her eyes, pinched them tight, and replayed the words in her head.

Get her body off the ground, Echo . . . Yes, sir . . . Good man . . . Get her body off the ground . . 
.

The headache from hell had sprouted thorns and tore into her temples. She planted her palm on her forehead, willing the pain to subside through gritted teeth.

What had Echo done? Who was the other man who seemed much too calm, coming upon them in the forest like he knew where they’d be and what they’d be doing?

“What am I going to do?” She swallowed down the panic rising hard and fast in her throat.

Echo must not have realized she could still hear as her projection cast out.

He was expecting her to bring back an elder. Is that was this was about? Using the elder she brought back for . . .
what
? For their maware? For some sort of bargaining chip to gain acceptance into Black Moon?

“I’m gonna kill him,” Ariana mumbled. “That’s what.”

Could her people-reading skills have really been so out of whack? She’d put her faith in him for years. Who could she trust, if not her only friend?

She pulled herself to her feet, dusted off her robe, and quickly scoped out her surroundings. Maybe she could find a weapon to use on Echo when she re-materialized.

The chamber was the same one she’d landed herself in last night; formal in an old Victorian way, with the unmistakable stench of seaweed burning her nostrils. Two weathered nightstands flanked a cherrywood sleigh bed piled high with mountains of feathered down. A floral upholstered foot bench butted against the bed, and a bulky dresser stood in the corner, with two candlesticks perched on top. The air was cold and damp and the energy was dark, floating beneath the door, across the hardwood floor, and coiling around her feet.

Not a single window cast moonlight into the room, giving the small space an eerie chill that skittered across Ariana’s skin. A bulky wooden door directly in front of her led to the hall of cells where elders were kept, though she couldn’t bring one back with her. Not anymore. She couldn’t chance putting the elder, or their maware, in danger.

But it wasn’t the wrought iron slats on the door that had Ariana staring hard, peering through the dark. It was the embossed silver knob that turned . . . and clicked softly, opening.

Someone was coming . . .

Her stomach somersaulted. She couldn’t get caught. Not again. Especially not by Juan Carlos, that slimy, foul excuse of a man.

Snatching a candlestick off the dresser, Ariana slinked behind the door. Held the makeshift weapon against her chest. Took a deep, quiet breath.

She’d hit, then run, that’s what she’d do. A silver candlestick wasn’t going to do major damage, but maybe it’d be a distraction. Even a few-step lead could give her the chance she needed to get away.

As the knob continued to turn, Ariana’s heart raced, pounding against her temples, thumping in her ears.

Calm. Stay calm.

The door opened with a squeak, freezing the breath in her lungs.

Before Ariana could suck in a breath, a vamp the size of a mountain stepped into the room. He had to be over six-feet-six, two hundred fifty pounds of sheer muscle. He was colossal, his shoulders and arms like a massive suit of armor pulsing behind a shiny leather coat. His hair was dark and spiked on top, his jaw square and pulsing.

When she finally forced herself to breathe, Ariana picked up on the familiar scent following him into the room. It washed Ariana in its rich and woodsy wake, teasing a memory out of her. It was so . . . tantalizingly familiar, yet the memory of the scent remained just out of reach.

She shouldn’t be taking this long to hightail it out of here, familiar stirrings or not . . .

Gripping the candlestick tight in her fist, Ariana tiptoed around the open door. Beneath her feet, a loose board creaked, echoing through the chamber.

She stilled, then bolted into the hall.

It was too late.

Strong hands grabbed her from behind and dragged her back into the room. Adrenaline spiking hot in her veins, Ariana screamed and thwacked her attacker in the shoulder with the candlestick. Instead of fighting back, he spun her around until her back was flush against him. He clamped a hand over her mouth.

Ariana bit at the flesh on his fingers and reached back, smacking him over the head. With a grunt, he ripped the weapon from her hands and tossed it on the bed.

There went her distraction.

She reared back, heeling the toe of his boot. She jabbed an elbow to his gut. A fist to his shoulder. He barely twitched from her efforts, only moving in a way that’d hinder a straight shot and waste her energy. When the realization hit—that escape was futile while trapped in his massive grasp—Ariana stopped fighting.

And saved her energy for the chance to bolt.

“Calm down,” he whispered.

Her skin bloomed in the most perplexing way.

“Therian guards were right behind me. Scream like that again and you’ll bring them right to us.”

She stilled. There was only one person, one vamp, who made her skin feverish from a few meaningless words. Gooseflesh sizzled across her body and crinkled the hairs on the back of her neck. Just like it had last night in the forest.

It couldn’t be . . .

Beyond her control, she breathed him in again. Woodsy pine drowned in a heavy musk, masculine and seductive, warm and—

It was
him
. Her vamp.

Little stirs of excitement whipped through Ariana’s body, but she clamped down the impulses before they warmed her completely.

“Let me go,” she said and, ever so slowly, twisted against him. If she could sneak an inch of space, she could escape from his massive cage of a body. Ariana wasn’t claustrophobic—if she were she’d feel downright smothered by the size of his arms. But she needed to get away. There wasn’t a reason in the world for him to be holding her so tightly. “I’m not going to ask you again . . . let me go.”

One muscular arm coiled around her waist and the other wrapped around her chest. She squirmed. He tightened his hold. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m . . . ah”—
think fast
—“lost.”

“You’re lying.” He pressed her against him, closer still, evaporating the distance she’d gained. His muscles stiffened as her backside swept against him. His body was rigid. Solid as rock. “Why’d you come back?” His voice was commanding, but velvety soft.

Flashes of heat seared across Ariana’s skin. She shouldn’t be feeling this way. She shouldn’t be trembling from his touch or feeling dragged down into the warmth of his chest. “I forgot something.”

He leaned down, and she could’ve sworn he inhaled a soft breath of her hair. All traces of anger from his voice evaporated into a smoky string of words that coaxed the tension from her body. “And did you find what it was you wanted so badly?”

“No.” She bit back the insane impulse to relax into him.

His lips brushed her ear, shooting shivers down her back. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

If lust at first touch existed, this was it. Hands down. Beyond her control, her arms and legs went languid. The urge to fight faded. Ariana had the ludicrous notion that she could stay here a few seconds longer, wrapped in the steel cage of his body, and that everything would be fine.

Words failed her. Hell, everything failed her—including her damned fight-or-flight reflex. What was wrong with her?

His hold loosened. The hand that he’d curled against her waist slowly moved against her, sweeping over her stomach. He pressed firmly, holding her still, but he wasn’t holding her back from escaping.

Not anymore.

There was something else in his touch.

Heat radiated from his palm. Desire, raw and demanding, flashed through his fingertips and clawed its way into her core. He held her as if at any moment his control would snap and he’d throw her onto the bed, as effortlessly as he had the candlestick.

And damn, if heat didn’t flash between Ariana’s legs at the thought.

She resisted the onslaught of want surging through her. She should be squirming to get away. Running out the door and down the hall to safety. Saving her energy to project back to the forest. Something, anything, to escape his embrace. But the urge to do any of those things had vanished, leaving her turned on and confused as hell.

Her body swayed slowly as desire swept over her in a thick, heady wave, dragging her into a whirlpool of endless possibilities. Her vamp was unlike anyone she’d ever known. He radiated sexual energy—raw and all-consuming—and his sights had set on Ariana. Her will was no match for the sensations overtaking her body.

Good god, this wasn’t like her . . . and she’d be damned if she didn’t like this new Ariana better.

She didn’t even know a thing about him. Other than the fact that he could teleport and heat her core hotter than a damned volcano, he was a stranger. A stranger with a marble slate for a chest, strong, muscular arms, and a tongue that could whip like a snake, but still . . . a stranger. Was he a newly transitioned elder she hadn’t picked up on? An ordinary vamp? Why would he come back to the black market?

“Who are you?” she asked as her middle gave the first pre-projection wobble.

“My name’s Dante.”

Dante . . .

She said the name to herself over and over again as a delicious stirring warmed her chest.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He pulled back, only a bit, but Ariana felt a draft of cold slither between them. “At least not back here . . . like this.”

Ariana picked up the subtle undertone simmering beneath his words: hope. He’d wanted her to return . . . to see her again. Had he been thinking of her, too?

“What do you want from me?” As a hollow ache spread through her center, Ariana laid her head back on his chest. His natural scent, musky and strong, saturated the air and settled on her skin. It coaxed away the last of the worry from her bones.

Damn it, this was crazy.
She
was crazy. For allowing Dante to press against her. For allowing his body to heat hers to such an uncomfortable level.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, leaning down to nuzzle into her hair. “You’re softer than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“What do you want . . .” . . .
from me?
She let the words linger on her lips. Why couldn’t she finish the sentence? Why did she care what he wanted at all? She didn’t know him from Vlad. “What do you . . .”

She was free to run. To turn around and knee him in the pressure cooker. He’d released her. Then why didn’t she want to go anywhere?

As if every moment had slowed to a delicate crawl, Dante spun her around and pulled her against him.

She faced a steel wall of a chest. Looked up into glowing, gold eyes. Shadows flittered over the angles of his face—chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones, impossibly full lips. He was more heart-stopping than she remembered.

Ariana couldn’t explain it, but with one drink of the gold swirling in his eyes, she knew there was more to Dante than could be answered by asking a single question. He was mysterious in the most intriguing way, with depths and layers a lifetime couldn’t unearth.

Dante leaned down and paused, eyeing the curves and angles of her face with radiant awe.

Sucking in a short breath, Ariana waited for his lips to come down on hers. Though his jaw pulsed hard and fast and his lips had a habit of straining white, Ariana knew they’d soften for her.

Dante was a puzzle—both hard and soft, primal yet controlled.

As his lips parted and Ariana’s blood stilled, the pounding sound of boots rained down the stairs. Dante severed their contact and spun Ariana behind him. She didn’t realize how much he’d warmed her body until a chilling draft swept beneath her robe.

“I think they caught onto my scent. We need to get you out of here,” he growled. “Juan Carlos won’t be far behind them. Damn it, I wasted too much time.” He checked the hall again, as if he really had lost something. “How long have you been here?”

She found it hard to recall anything before he’d swept her into his arms.

Reality knocked her feet from under her. She wasn’t really
here
at all. This wasn’t really happening. Her physical self, her body, was with Echo . . . and he was dragging her God knew where.

What would she do when her projection started to wear off? Where would she re-materialize? Would she still be in the forest? And what kind of danger would she be faced with?

“Hey,” Dante said, turning to face her and shaking her arm, drawing her back to the present. “I asked you a question.”

“Maybe a minute before you came into the room.”

“I didn’t see you enter.”

“No.”

His face puzzled. “And I thought I was firing short of a full chamber.”

The floor shook, and Dante’s woodsy scent was overpowered by the unmistakable odor of therians.

Splaying an arm to his side, Dante guided Ariana behind him, then slid behind the open door. Two burly shifters passed the entry. The rapid pounding of their boots slowed to a hush.

They’d caught wind of something. Of them.

“They’re coming back to check rooms.” Dante craned his neck around. “Stay here.”

“You can’t order me around like I’m—”

He slipped around the door and into the hall before she could finish her protest. She didn’t want to stay behind the door, trapped in the chamber. If Dante wanted to call attention to himself and get staked by Juan Carlos’s guppies, so be it. Dying wasn’t on her agenda tonight.

Debating her next move, Ariana peered into the crack between the door and the jamb. Dante was a whole lot of pissed-off vamp, crouching low, an expression of pure hate slathered across his face. He’d situated himself in the middle of the hall, his shoulders nearly brushing the sides.