Trapped

BLOOD CLAIM:

TRAPPED

Selena Illyria

www.loose-id.com

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Blood Claim: Trapped

Selena Illyria

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by

Loose Id LLC

870 Market St, Suite 1201

San Francisco CA 94102-2907

www.loose-id.com

Copyright © December 2008 by Selena Illyria

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-851-8

Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Morgan Fayne

Cover Artist: Anne Cain

Kit walked the halls of the old inn with the representative from Blyder’s clan, examining her new purchase. She loved the look and feel of the place, a large cottage done in the Tudor style, and once she got everything in order, it would be the perfect country retreat. The inn looked like it was in fairly good condition, considering it had sat empty for over a year, and all in all, Kit was pleased with what she saw.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t fix everything in time for this inspection,” Anyka said. “You didn’t give us much warning. But we did manage to get the utilities turned on and most of the rooms cleaned. Vacuumed and dusted, at least.”

Kit ran her finger over a door frame. Clean. Not even a whiff of dust, mold, or mildew in the air. She glanced over her shoulder at the statuesque redhead. “All of Blyder’s protection symbols are still in place? Including the pentagram?”

“Yes,” Anyka said. “The pentagram is located behind the front desk, and all the wards around the property are still operable. Blyder isn’t considered the Vampyre nation’s greatest protector for nothing.”

“Let’s go back downstairs, then. I want a look at the pentagram before I sign my life away.”

“I promise you, you won’t regret.”

“Oh, I know I won’t.” Kit tried to calm the excitement that was building as she and Anyka walked down the creaking stairs to the reception area. It was really going to happen.

She was finally going to have something to look forward to in life other than being an assassin for her clan. She was going to own her own business.

Downstairs, she took in the overstuffed chairs and sofas, the polished wooden furniture, the paintings and photos that filled the place with affection and warmth. The fireplace stood empty, and the great brick structure looked lonely and sad without a cheerful fire blazing in the hearth.

The reception desk was simply a large counter with a stool behind it, with a phone, a computer, and a few books stacked on the dark wood surface. On the wall behind the counter, a few keys still hung on their hooks. She could barely make out the indentations where the protection pentagram had been carved, but it was there. And it would ensure that she and her guests would have nothing to worry about within the walls of their quaint country retreat.

Grinning, she turned and smiled at Anyka. “Okay. Let’s sign those papers.”

She sat down on a couch across from Anyka and watched her spread the papers out on the table. Excitement rushed through her. She tamped down the urge to squeal in delight and picked up the pen. I’m a property owner, she thought and scrawled her signature across the first page.

Anyka extended her hand and smiled. “It was nice doing business with you, Kit.”

Kit shook her hand and walked Anyka toward the door. She wanted to take one more look around before cracking open a bottle of champagne with her clan and celebrating the start of her new project.

Before Anyka could leave, the door burst open.

Rysen stood in the doorway, his presence sapping out all the joy Kit had felt. “You’ve made a mistake. This place is worthless.”

Anger, resentment, and arousal rushed through her, washing over her, each emotion colliding with the other.

“Um, I’m going to go now.” Anyka inched toward the door and slipped past Rysen’s looming form.

Rysen gazed only at Kit, his face a mask of arrogance. Possession sparkled in his eyes.

Kit wanted to slap him, wipe that look off his chiseled face. She took in the sharp cheekbones, the lips formed in a cupid’s bow. Thick black eyebrows slashed over hooded violet eyes. His long black hair hung around his shoulders in a curtain of midnight.

Her body flooded with heat, pussy throbbing to life. Her breasts grew full and heavy, nipples stiff with awareness. Goddess, she hated the way he made her feel -- angry, aroused, and at the moment, like a child. He had superiority written all over him, from the way he stood to the look on his face. But he was crazy if he thought he could have her now, after all the humiliation his rejection had caused her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she relaxed, readying herself for the fight that was about to come. They always fought. First, he insulted her; then, punches were thrown. “Get out, Rysen. This is none of your affair.”

“You’re my affair, whether you like the fact or not.”

Kit faced him without a tremor. “You had your chance when my clan offered me as your consort, but you turned them down. Now get out of my way. I have a bottle of champagne waiting.”

Rysen shook his head. “Stubborn and unable to see reason. Looks like the only way to get you to see things my way is to bring you to heel.”

“You can try.” Arms falling to her sides, she took a deep breath and got into a fighting stance.

He moved so fast he vanished from view for a second, and then pain burst in her lower back. She whirled around. He was nowhere in sight.

Cursing, she closed her eyes and relaxed her body, slowing her breathing. She extended her other senses, searching for a sign of him in the room. A soft breeze brushed against her face from her left. Turning, she punched the air, her fist making contact with something hard and warm. Opening her eyes, she was just in time to see him jump back before vanishing again.

“Things would be much easier, darling, if you would just submit,” he said.

“In your dreams, asshole.” She rushed at him. She vanished from sight, then appeared behind him and kicked him in the back of the knee.

He bellowed and went down. With lightning-fast reflexes, he twisted, grabbing her ankle and dragging her to him. He quickly covered her body with his, using his weight to pin her to the ground. “Give up.”

“Never.” She head butted him. Groaning, he rolled off her. She scrambled up into a fighting stance again, ready for anything he would throw at her.

Rysen rose slowly. He jerked his head back, and a curtain of dark hair flew into the air and fell down his back. “Dirty trick, darling. I’ll have to spank you for that, once I subdue you.”

“Whatever. Just bring it.”

“As you wish.”

Rysen came at her. The two traded punches and kicks, sweat sliding down their faces.

Time and the outside world no longer mattered. Dominance was all they could see.

Rysen pressed her back, and the area they fought in grew smaller and smaller. Her power and ability to heal herself slowed with each minute that went by. He was moving too fast; she couldn’t block all of his attacks. She swung out at him, aiming for his jaw, but getting his chest instead.

Pain ricocheted from her knuckle up her arm. Clenching her jaw, she raised her other arm to block, but he landed a punch in her side and knocked the wind out of her. She grimaced and backed up, trying to find room to move. She pulled her injured arm back and swung. Her fist connected with Rysen’s jaw. His head rocked back, but he recovered all too quickly.

He grabbed her hips, ignoring her fists to his chest and stomach, and shoved her back into a wall. Pain slammed into her when her head hit the drywall. Her vision swam, and stars burst before her eyes.

“We can stop this. Concede my victory, and we can leave.” His gruff voice sounded even rougher with the effort he was making to speak.

Kit turned her head and spat out the blood that filled her mouth when she’d bitten her tongue. “Never.”

With each second, she could feel herself healing, but there wasn’t enough time. She was too damaged; she needed rest. Her body was starting to give way; her legs were barely holding her upright. Her vision was fading in and out. She wasn’t going to last. She thought of using the poisoned dagger at her hip, but decided against it. If she were going to win, it would be with her own strength. Besides, the poison would be nothing more than a bee sting to a two-thousand-year-old vampyre.

Dizziness assaulted her, and she tried to regain her focus. She refused to pass out. If she lost consciousness, Rysen would win and she would end up his consort. She had no desire to be one of his whores after a hundred years of humiliation.

Anger fueled the fire within the pit of her stomach, and she drew on this new energy.

She tried to straighten her body and felt the first brush of power. Kit swore as she watched Rysen’s eyes growing brighter, the violet changing to neon yellow, the black pupils glowing a bright green, rimmed in red. She watched the cuts and bruises on his face and neck heal and fade before her eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” she spat. He was drawing on his age as a vampyre, using his two thousand years to dip into the deep well of his power to heal himself. She was screwed. She was only three hundred, give or take, and she didn’t have that kind of power.

She steeled herself, ignoring the voice within that told her to just kneel and give her body and blood to him. She wouldn’t do that. Not now, not ever.

She straightened to her full height, ignoring the pops and cracks of her spine, and balled her fists, ready to keep fighting.

“Don’t do this, Kit. Just stop and kneel to me.”

“Never.” She charged him, but a new sensation caused her steps to falter. Power unlike Rysen’s brushed across her skin. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood on end.

Shit! They had company outside.

“This was once Blyder’s inn, yes?” Rysen asked.

She knew what he was thinking. Blyder was famous for his seals of protection.

Turning on her heel, she rushed toward the reception desk. She skidded around the counter, unsheathing the knife on her belt, then sliced her palm open. Black blood seeped from the wound, and Kit slammed her palm against the plain white wall.

She felt her blood being drawn from the cut as a pentagram began to reveal itself. The black blood turned red, unveiling the cracks and crevices of the protection seal. Lines, curves, and runes slowly emerged. She felt faint. The poison that had edged her blade rushed through her veins while the seal pulled the blood from her body.

She clung fast to consciousness. She didn’t want to pass out until the seal was complete.

Once the seal’s lines were filled with her blood offering, the wards of protection would be activated. They would be safe until the power wore off.

Once the last rune was filled in, her palm fell to her side as darkness edged her vision.

She saw Rysen coming toward her, concern in his eerie yellow eyes.

“Kit? Are you okay?”

She wanted to give him a smart-ass answer, but instead, she raised her good arm and flipped him off, letting the darkness take her at last. His chuckle was the last thing she heard before slipping under.

* * * * *

Rysen ignored the throbbing of his cock. As much as he wanted to fuck her right now, he couldn’t. She was unconscious and she was hurt. When he got her in his bed, she was going to be awake and strong and enjoying every last bit of it.