Not Dead Enough: Zombie Paranormal Romance (Project Rebellion: SARA Book 1) (3 page)

BOOK: Not Dead Enough: Zombie Paranormal Romance (Project Rebellion: SARA Book 1)
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“And we haven’t found the bodies yet.” Fredericks looked around the group. “I’ve never seen a Blood consume a whole body, you?”

They all shook their heads, but it was Dom that spoke. “Nope, they usually just drain their vics. Never seen them take so much as a bite.”

Fredericks’ lips compressed into a thin line. Brett suppressed a shiver. As a human Evan Fredericks had been an easy-going, affable sort of guy. Post-infection as a SARA, the dude was fucking scary, even for them.

“Okay,” he said. “That means they’re taking these women for a reason. Kel, can you track the scent?”

Kelwood took a breath, his eyes unfocused as he concentrated. He nodded. “Yeah. It’s faint, but I can follow it. We’re going to need to go on foot though. They took her over the back here.”

Fredericks nodded. “Okay, let’s grab our gear and move out. I want to know what the fuck they’re doing with those women.”

***

A groan was the first thing Julia heard when she woke up. It took her at least thirty seconds to realize the drawn out, painful sound came from her own chest.

“Ugh.” She opened her eyes, fighting lids that seemed to be made of lead, to see.... Nothing. Her eyes searched the darkness, looking for something to focus on. Crap. Where was she?

She fought back panic and took deep breaths. In and out. In and hold for a couple of seconds to slow her racing heart. Just the same as she did when she ran. Work the body like a machine, obey its rules and use those to make it behave.

The panic shoved to a small corner of her mind, she focused on what she knew. She was alone. Only her own breathing rasped in the darkness. It surrounded her like a blanket, but not one she’d want to wrap herself up in. It was cold, wet and with a chill breeze from somewhere that froze all the hairs on the back of her neck where they stood upright.

She lay on a hard surface, one that was uneven with something. Pebbles? She moved her hand, and the unmistakable texture of dirt and loose stones pressed against her skin. Sitting up, she looked left and right, eyes wide to try and catch the tiniest bit of light.

Her breath caught. She was underground. The air had that dank, close quality she associated with cellars and basements. Carefully, she scooted back until she hit something. A wall. The rough brick rubbed shoulders bared by the vest top she’d put on after her shower.

As she looked around, her eyes became a little more accustomed to the lack of light. She was in a small room, the walls disappearing into shadow, but she didn’t think the ceiling was very high. Probably lower than normal. The air felt too close for anything else.

Sliding her back up the wall, she rose to her feet and took a step to the side, then more until she reached the corner of the room. Corner meant she had walls on either side, so anything had to come at her from the front.

If she could see it.

Where the hell was she? Back braced in the corner, she rubbed at her face, trying to clear the fuzziness from her mind. She’d been in town, and her tires had been slashed. She’d had to walk home, the heat blasting down on her. She remembered taking a shower…. Then her memory got fuzzy and soft, like cotton wool. She hissed in frustration. What had happened next ? Something had, because this sure as hell wasn’t her bathroom.

More details came into view from the darkness. Opposite her, there were faint outlines like there was a door there. The sight of a door triggered a flash of memory. The door in her kitchen. Fear slammed into her, the instinctive reaction pressing her back into the rough bricks of the walls as memory returned in fits and starts.

Buddy’s men had found her. They’d gotten in. She’d shot one. But they weren’t Buddy’s men. Unless her ex-husband’s men had taken to sporting vampire fangs. A whimper escaped her as the scene in her head changed. Being carried through the darkness over someone’s shoulder. But no one could move that fast, the ground a blur beneath them. There was darkness and pain. Her heart raced as she relived the memory. Agony slicing through her neck, the fear she was going to die. A man over her, his knee forcing her thighs apart. She’d fought him, lashing out like a wild cat. The memory of a man’s face recoiling from her blow, nail marks across his face, swam to the surface of her mind. His features twisted in anger, became something terrifying as he swung his fist back. Pain in the side of her head, her face and then nothing. Darkness.

She whimpered, her face pressed to the cold brick as she tried to control the trembling of her body. Tentatively, she reached up to her neck. Her fingertips brushed the skin there, searching carefully. She winced. Dull pain at the touch warned her that all was not right. A bruise maybe? She searched the borders, and worked her way across the tender spot. Two scabs nestled in the center.

“Shitshitshitshit.” Her brain didn’t want to comprehend the facts. She hadn’t been bitten. She couldn’t have been, because Vampires didn’t exist. So if they didn’t exist she couldn’t have been bitten. But if they didn’t exist, who had kidnapped her?

Putting the question aside, she moved her hand down. Over her ribs and her stomach. Her thighs quivered, fear of what she’d find taking root. A hand between her legs, she pressed gently. And closed her eyes in relief. Everything felt normal. No soreness. She hadn’t been raped.

A soft snuffling sound broke through her thoughts, dragging her head up to listen. Was that someone crying? A frown on her face, she lifted her hand. Her cheeks were dry. Okay, it wasn’t her. So that meant there was someone else down here.

She launched herself across the room, reaching the door in less than a heartbeat.

“Hello? Is there anyone there?” Mouth against the lock, she called out, then put her ear against it to listen.

The snuffling became soft sobs. She’d been right. There was someone down here with her. New purpose filled her, chasing away her fear.

“Hey… hello? Who’s that? I’m Julia,” she called out, pitching her voice to carry but not too far. Her discovery she wasn’t alone was tempered by the fact that she and whoever else had been brought down here on purpose. The kidnappers could be listening.

The sobs stopped. Shit.

“Hey… talk to me. Who are you?”

Silence. Julia cursed softly under her breath and ran her hand over the door. It was wooden, with iron bands across it. A crude handle jutted from the surface to the left. Grabbing it, she rattled the door. It was locked. Further investigation revealed a barred window near the top. On her tiptoes, she managed to look out and could just make out what looked like a corridor, more doors like her own lining it.

“Be quiet. They’ll come back.”

The voice was so soft Julia thought she’d imagined it, but it got stronger at the end of the sentence. It was female, that much she could tell, but that was it.

“Who’s ‘they’? Please, I just woke up. What’s going on? Where are we?”

The response was short, succinct and stole Julia’s breath.

“In hell.”

 

Chapter Three

 

In hell
.

The words seemed to echo around in the darkness, hitting the walls and gaining in volume until they almost deafened Julia. She swallowed, her throat making a dry, scratching sound.

“Hell? What do you mea—?” she started, but the sound of footsteps made her hold her breath.

She tilted her head, listening out. They were heavy footsteps. Male, wearing boots by the sound of it, and walking on wood? Definitely not on dirt like the floor of her cell. She paused at the word, but it was the only one that fit. She’d been kidnapped by force and held here against her will. The very fact that the door was locked changed the description of the room to cell.

A light outside the room snapped on, blinding her. Wincing, she tore her face away from the bars for a second to blink stars from her vision. When she looked back, a man was walking down the corridor. In jeans and a t-shirt, he was worlds away from the suited figures that had kidnapped her. He stopped at a door further up.

“Hey! Hello, in here!” she called out, shoving her arm through the bars to get his attention. “Please, you have to help m—”

He turned and she sucked in a breath, her words dying. He wasn’t human. He looked it from a distance, walked it, probably talked it, but something instinctive within her went still and quiet. Wary.

He walked toward her and she could see the awful blackness in his eyes. Like her dream.

“Nononono. Shit.”

She backed away from the door and frantically looked around for something to bar it. Fresh air was all she had. There wasn’t even a blanket or an old sack in the room with her.

The lock clicked, further evidence that he was with the men…no, the creatures…who had put her in here, but Julia was ready. As soon as the door swung open, she flung a handful of dust up into his face.

He roared, swiping at his eyes to clear them. Heart in her throat, her breath roaring in her ears, she slipped past him and raced up the corridor. More roars and crashes came from behind her, but she ignored them in favor of running. Guilt hit as she passed the other doors, one of them belonging to the crying woman, but she carried on. She had to get out, get free; then she could bring help back for however many women were trapped down here.

She reached the bottom of some crude stairs, freedom a mere few steps away, when hard hands clamped down on her shoulders.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty one?”

Fear paralyzed her as recognition jolted her system. She knew that voice. For a second she was back in her house, fear running through her as she realized she wasn’t alone. The deep voice of her assailant whispering over her neck before pain and blackness overtook her.

He spun her around, and her breath caught in her throat as she looked up into his face. Any hope she’d been wrong died as her gaze stalled on his too-familiar features. Memory resurfaced. The scene changed to that of her nightmare. He’d been the one over her, cruel face twisted with lust shining in his dark eyes. But there were no scratches on his face, whereas she’d scratched the guy in her dream. She knew she’d marked him. Three long furrows across his cheek. She could still feel his skin giving under her nails, and the slick warmth of the blood that followed.

But his skin was smooth and undamaged, like it had never been torn... or it had completely healed. As soon as the thought occurred to her it felt right. She had cut him, but he’d healed the damage. Crap. How long had she been down here?

“Remember me?” he taunted, hands hard on her.

She shrieked, lashing out with hands and feet as she was dragged backwards away from freedom. Deeper into hell. He chuckled as she tried to kick him and rearranged his grip, shoving her arm up her back. The pain stole her breath, but she didn’t stop. They weren’t taking her without a fight. Her struggles seemed pointless though. She might as well be a week-old kitten for all the good they did.

Her captor hauled her closer, his breath washing over her neck. “Carry on, little one, and I’ll snap your arm like a twig.”

He sounded eager, as though the idea of hurting her excited him. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, she suppressed her whimper as he bundled her through a door. As soon as they were through it, he let her go, throwing her to the floor. She hit the floorboards hard, taking the skin off her knees through the thin pajama pants she had on. Hissing past the pain, she rolled away. She didn’t care if he was bigger or that he’d threatened to break her arm. She’d take chunks out of him first.

But he didn’t follow her. Instead, he stayed by the door. In the shadows, as though he was scared or couldn’t come any further into the room. Turning slowly, she took in her surroundings. The room was plush compared to her cell. It had a floor rather than dirt, which was a definite upgrade. The boards were swept clean, and two battered sofas sat catty-corner to each other. A lone man sat on the one facing her.

At her entrance, he stood, glaring at her captor. “Slater! Is that any way to treat our guest?” He moved forward and held out a hand to help her rise.

Relief filled her; perhaps this was someone she could talk to. Her hand was halfway up to push her hair out of her face when she looked up. And froze. He wasn’t human either. Oh, his relaxed manner and charming tone concealed it better than the asshole who had dragged her in here, but her instincts still screamed at her just the same.

He smiled to reveal teeth that would make Dracula proud.

Shit. This was it. She’d finally snapped under the pressure of the divorce and all the other crap from Buddy. This was all in her head. It had to be. She was strapped to a bed someplace, drugged out of her skull, talking to her water jug. Either that or she was starring in her very own horror B-rated movie, and no one had told her.

Ignoring his hand, she scooted backwards to get to her feet. Making sure to stay out of reach of the scary one by the door, she slid behind the couch, keeping it between her and them. It wasn’t much protection, but right now she’d take anything she could get. That was until she realized there was someone else behind the couch with her.

A woman sat with her back to the tattered couch. Her arms wrapped around her knees, she rocked back and forth, singing softly. Concerned, Julia took a step closer then stopped as the woman looked up. Blood ringed her mouth and flowed down her chin like a beard of red.

Holy crap. That was
so
not good.

The black of her eyes when she looked up sealed the deal. Julia shivered and sidestepped. No way did she want to share the space behind the couch with the strange blood-woman. She was one of them, whatever they were. Even in the safety of her own head, Julia stayed away from the V word. This might be her own delusional little fantasy, but there was no sense in encouraging the crazies.

“What the fuck? Where am I?” she demanded, trying to keep them all in view at once. The woman with the blood seemed the least threatening, but Julia had seen enough horror movies to know not to take anything at face value. The quiet one usually turned out to be the rabid serial killer.

“Where doesn’t matter as much as why,” the guy in the middle of the room said. Tall, blond and handsome, he was Captain All-America. Huh, Double-A. Perhaps he was battery operated? She wanted to snigger at the thought, another sign she was definitely unbalanced.

BOOK: Not Dead Enough: Zombie Paranormal Romance (Project Rebellion: SARA Book 1)
2.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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