Then a vampire communicated close by. Her skin immediately crawled, and her senses went on higher alert. She wanted to warn Bernard, but she couldn’t without alerting him that she had telepathy.
“Where are you?” a dark voice telepathically asked, one of the voices Tezra had “heard” in the warehouse district after the police officer was murdered.
Who the hell was he speaking to?
“I’m nearly there.” Bernard sounded relieved he was getting rid of his passenger soon.
Bernard? Her heart nearly stopped. Somehow he must have lost the battle with a couple of vampires despite how strong and capable he was.
She touched her wrist blades, giving herself a slight sense of security. Out of reach, her swords were in her bag in the backseat. Though she couldn’t kill Bernard just because he’d been turned, not unless he threatened to harm her.
“You’ve done well, Bernard,” the vampire communicated, his voice clipped.
“She asked me where I was taking her.”
“You didn’t tell her.” A hint of alarm edged the vampire’s words.
“No.”
“That’s good. Not too much of a struggle, I gather?”
Tezra detected a bit of humor, hopeful maybe that she hadn’t come so willingly?
“She came without questioning.”
Yeah, dammit, and if she’d been thinking more clearly, she would have definitely been more on guard. Trying to keep her temper in check, Tezra shielded her mind from the vampires, hoping they’d slip and tell her something useful. Like which of them had killed the police officers.
In a flash, a vampire appeared in the backseat. His smell was different from Bernard’s—a slightly spicy cologne, new leather coat and a hint of blood, indicating he’d probably recently fed. The nape of her neck tingled with anxiety. In such an awkward setting, she couldn’t maneuver to get at him. To her horror, he reached over the seat, grabbed her wrists and rested his cheek against hers.
She ground her teeth in frustration and twisted to wrench herself free from the ancient vampire’s strong grasp. If she could reach the goodness in Bernard, she still had hope.
The blood rushed from her arms and hands while the vampire held them up high, effectively keeping her from opening her wrist blades. He chuckled darkly when she struggled—amused to bring her to her knees? She wasn’t on her knees yet, damn him.
When the truck pulled to a stop, she renewed her struggles, though she felt the uselessness of it.
Bernard opened her door, and his heavy cologne and familiar onion breath greeted her. The traitor leaned over and removed her wrist blades while the vampire in charge continued to hold her still.
“Remove her boots and cell phone ,” he commanded.
Bernard bowed slightly, and she wanted to slap him hard. Break free from his spell, Bernard. You can do it! Don’t let them own you. Her silent prayers could be only that. Her heart felt as if a ton of lead suddenly encased it when he yanked off her other boot, where her last concealed weapon, one of her favorite daggers, remained.
After Bernard finished disarming her, the other held on tight. To show his absolute power over her? Without her weapons, merely a plaything of a vampire?
Gloat for now, you bastard, but you’ll get yours, she wanted to scream.
Bernard removed her cell phone, caught her wrist when the vampire let go and tugged her out of the truck.
“Here I’d seriously considered marrying you, Bernard. The deal is off,” she growled.
He stared at her, and she wondered if the message had filtered to his vampire-controlled brain. Hustling her up the walk, he moved her quickly into the house. Once inside, she couldn’t tell how many vampires were in the house, their minds shouting with a mixture of thoughts—confusion, anxiety and anger that the vampire had brought her here.
Bernard pulled her down a long, narrow hall and into a dark room. Not a hint of light illuminated the place. She couldn’t see a thing, only felt the vampires lurking in a semicircle around her, watching her like the ones had done while she had crouched at the scene of the dead policeman. Electricity vibrated between them, thick with white-hot heat.
Were any of these vampires from her previous run-ins, borderline rogues, not bad enough to terminate but definitely standing on the edge between civility and chaos? Tilting her nose up and smelling, she tried to identify any of them. Masking the vampires’ unique scents, a pungently fragrant shampoo had recently been used to clean the carpeting.
“You shouldn’t have brought her here,” one of the vampires communicated.
“Take her to the room I prepared for her ,” the one who had ridden partway in the pickup ordered. “She’s mine, and no one will disobey me in this.”
Tezra sensed he was the only ancient in the room. For now, he didn’t seem to want her dead, but she figured it was only a matter of time.
“We have gone along with you thus far, but you have—” The vampire suddenly quit his communication, and every one of them remained silent.
The one in charge would have no disrespect from his rabble rebels, she figured, though she missed the cue because of the darkness of her surroundings. He must have given a look that silenced them, or conveyed the message privately.
Bernard led her into another dark room and sat her on a mattress. “Sleep,” he said with tenderness and handed her a blanket.
The strong scent of vanilla wafted to her. Triggered by the sweet fragrance, she fought the bile that rose to her throat. It was the same smell that had assaulted her in the kitchen where her parents had lain dead, the bottle of vanilla extract shattered in a million glass fragments. Chocolate chips, flour, sugar—all scattered on the tile floor, mixed in a pool of her parents’ blood.
She shook loose from the painful memories and attempted to determine who stood nearby. Listening for a sign that any of them were with Bernard, she sensed the leader’s presence—darkly contemplative, the heat of his body too close, his scent the same she’d smelled in her apartment—way too appealing.
“Go, join the others, Bernard. You have done well tonight and have earned my respect.”
Tezra wished she could touch Bernard’s thoughts, to free him from the vampire’s control, but she had no way to reverse what the vampires had done to him. She prayed they’d leave her alone so she could concentrate on finding a way to escape.
She shielded her mind, which came as naturally to her as taking a breath. She hid her thoughts always as a habit to keep herself safe, but she’d learned to do it only after she’d put her family’s lives in jeopardy. She mentally squashed the feeling of hopelessness deep into a pocket, closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
“I feel you are much more dangerous than you appear,” the vampire said. “My brother is too concerned about you, too drawn to you. What are you contemplating?”
The idea he knew she could communicate telepathically sent a shard of ice hurdling down her spine. Then she realized he was only speaking to himself and couldn’t break through her impenetrable shield.
“Daemon is here,” a panicked vampiric voice said from the other room.
Her heart raced, her mind a fog, but any lure of sleep instantly faded. The vampire who had gained access to her apartment was involved in taking her hostage? Hell, why should that surprise her?
The vampire near her bed cursed under his breath. “I’ll be right there.” The door shut and the lock clicked.
Hoping none of the vampires had been left behind to guard her, Tezra sat up on the squishy mattress and listened. Shrouded in darkness, she couldn’t see a blamed thing, yet she sensed no vampire nearby.
The vampires communicated with each other in the other room.
“Daemon, what a pleasure.”
“You mean, ‘what a surprise’, Atreides. What are you up to now, my brother?”
The one who had kidnapped her was Daemon’s brother?
Not wanting to miss a word, Tezra barely breathed.
“Why do you always fault
me?”
“Don’t play coy with me. You have turned Tezra’s bodyguard. Why? When the SCU learns he has disappeared, there will be an uproar, and I won’t have it.”
So Daemon wasn’t in on changing Bernard, nor had he anything to do with taking her hostage. Still, he could have murdered the policeman at her apartment and planned to kill her too.
“He isn’t totally turned. He hasn’t fed.”
“And he won’t. You’ll wipe his mind of the night’s activities and free him,” Daemon warned.
She sighed, a bit relieved he’d let Bernard go. She sensed the hostility growing between the two brothers. Would Daemon aid her too?
Not wanting to chance it, she made her way to the door and groped around the wall until her fingers touched a light switch. With the utmost care, she flipped it up. No illumination. The blood rushed in her ears, her adrenaline surging. Feeling her way past the bed to the window, she touched the top of the frame and flipped the lock open with a metallic click that she was certain the vampires could hear all the way to the California border. Moonlight glistened off steel bars caging her in just like the home for troubled teens where she’d been incarcerated. She swore under her breath.
She closed her eyes and tried to reason a way out.
Struggling to make the right choice, she thought to reach out to Daemon. She’d let him think it was another vampire telling him the truth about her captivity, only she’d channel the message to Daemon and only Daemon.
Her head pounded with a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. She wasn’t certain she’d be successful, and she was afraid she’d let Atreides or the others know she had the telepathic gift.
She intended to copy one of the younger men’s thoughts to disguise her own telepathic voice. She was certain Daemon wouldn’t recognize it as hers, because she’d never shared her telepathic voice with him, but maybe he’d believe her, or the man she pretended to be, and come to her aid.
“The others seem to be hiding some news from me. What has happened, Atreides?” Daemon asked before she could attempt her ruse.
“You already know about the other police killing. You got the tissue samples from him. So what else do you want to know?”
Daemon took the samples? Her heart thumped even harder. Then Daemon must have killed the officer before he came to see her, or maybe right afterwards and before Bernard came for her. Or had Bernard been there too, and witnessed the whole affair? Damn Bernard! The SCU hadn’t removed the body. The vampires must have.
“What’s wrong, Daemon?” Atreides asked.
Dead silence.
“Daemon?” Atreides sounded like he was in big trouble, and she was in even bigger trouble if Daemon had killed the officer and found her here.
Holding her head in her hands, Tezra kept her mind shielded and quiet, wishing she could slow her racing heart.
The wooden floor creaked while one of the vampires paced. The pacing abruptly stopped.
“Is someone in the house? Someone not of our blood?” Daemon was trying to locate her, to hear her blood rushing pell-mell through her veins.
“No. No one. Why do you ask?”
“Damn, Atreides, who have you got locked up in the house this time? It’s…a woman.”
Atreides didn’t respond.
Daemon stormed down the hall until he reached her room. She dashed across the floor, but before she could make it to the bed, he appeared inside. Though she couldn’t see him, she recognized his spicy scent. Backing up, she bumped into the bed’s unforgiving, hard oak footboard, instantly trapped. She raised her hands to defend herself, hating to feel so vulnerable without her weapons.
“Dammit to hell, Atreides,” Daemon growled, moving toward her, the hair on her arms standing at attention.
Atreides appeared next to him. “Sorry, Daemon. I only meant to keep her safe.”
For a minute, silence ensued, then Daemon laughed out loud, a heartfelt, gut-wrenching laugh from the belly.
Tezra couldn’t figure out the joke. Atreides seemed sincere in wanting to keep her alive. So why did Daemon think it was so funny? Because he didn’t want to keep her that way?
Trying to calm herself, Tezra took a deep breath.
“What should I do with you, huntress?” Daemon asked.
She wasn’t a huntress by occupation, though if the SCU had allowed it, she would take on the role in a heartbeat and eliminate every renegade vampire there was.
She glowered in Daemon’s direction, unable to do anything more, and felt the heat of his body so close her own skin grew feverish.
“She will vanish and you will tell no one I have taken her,” Daemon said.
Vanish as in they meant to kill her?
“The others know I brought her here. They’ll notice she’s gone.”
“Tell them she slipped away, but you won’t tell them she’s with me.”
Atreides spoke again, this time with a mixture of regret and accommodation. “I will do as you ask.”
Nearly giving Tezra a stroke, Daemon wrapped his arm securely around her waist and pulled her hard against his body. Before she could cry out, or pull away, or scream in protest, he yanked her into a black void of space, transporting her the way of the vampire. Her head and stomach swirled as she sifted with such speed. The air wooshed past her in a rush as if she were on a wild carnival ride in total darkness.
She closed her eyes, hoping she didn’t perish in the sift.
Chapter Three
Daemon deposited Tezra on the guest bed in the dark cellar, the perfect place for SCU troublemakers. Normally he used the windowless room for visiting vampire friends desiring a deeper sleep and to store his favorite bottles of cabernet sauvignon, pinot noir and chardonnay racked against the concrete block walls. Stark otherwise, but perfect for his needs.
Particularly at the moment.
For some time, he considered the woman, her posture rigid, attempting not to show her fear. Tezra glowered at him, her heart still racing exasperatingly fast.
Daemon flipped on a light in the cellar with a wave of his hand. The unsettling woman squinted under the glare of the exposed 150-watt bulb overhead.
“Why do you think I’m the murderer?” he asked.
Her mutinous expression didn’t falter as she crossed her arms under her breasts, her chin tilted up in obstinacy. He couldn’t help staring at her rounded breasts in the form-fitting black turtleneck. The way her nipples began to harden intrigued him. What would it be like to touch them, to hold her breasts, weighing each fleshy mound in the palm of his hand?
His gaze shifted to her defiant green eyes, the gold star that shot out from the pupil entrancing him. Entrancing him! An ancient vampire who in six hundred and fifty years had only been enchanted once before by a huntress of the elite Special Crimes Unit.
He hardened his resolve to keep his interest in her strictly business. He wouldn’t permit the killer vampire to terminate her and create a war between his people and the hunters. Simple as that. “You won’t ignore my questions. When I ask one of you, I expect to be answered, civilly.”
“You killed the police officer and stole the tissue samples,” she accused, her tone icy.
“The officer was already dead. You’re tired. I venture you wouldn’t stay awake for more than an hour if I shut off the light and allowed you to sleep.” He attempted to read her mind, but a wall surrounded her thoughts, deterring him, irritating him. “But I won’t afford you the opportunity if you don’t answer my questions.”
“Barbarian.” She spoke the insult with hatred. She hadn’t a clue what barbaric really meant. Not like what he’d seen during the wars before he was changed. “Let me see the tissue samples,” she ordered.
“What evidence do you have that suggests I’m the killer?”
Her full pink lips pursed.
“Well? I’m not a patient man. In fact, lack of patience is one of my greatest faults.”
“Try arrogance.”
He smiled, not meaning to, but
he couldn’t help it when the woman, petite of stature, deprived of sleep, imprisoned against her will, could still make a sarcastic comeback.
“What would it be like to lie with you? Full of vinegar, sparring with me at every turn?”
Her eyes darkened and widened at the same time.
In his mind, he quickly readdressed the situation in the warehouse district. Had she been the one who touched his mind with a gentle probe like a sensual caress? A huntress telepath?
He had to know if she was the one who’d touched him so intimately. “You smell like roses, springtime fresh. Your warm, sweet blood streaming through your veins, begs me to satisfy my growing bloodlust.”
Speaking the truth at every turn, he studied her reaction to his mental taunt. He hadn’t fed for two days because of the police killings, because it sickened him that one of his kind could stoop so low. For the time being, he couldn’t force himself to take a human’s blood, even though he wouldn’t hurt the donor.
Her blood pounded wildly in her veins like an aphrodisiac, luring him to take his fill. She tried to remain emotionless, but her cheeks blossomed with color, the tinge of pink spreading to her neck. Her breasts rose with her quickened breath.
“No woman is immune to me. We’re alone. Why don’t you admit you find me…irresistible?”
“Arrogance is the only thing that becomes you,” she snapped.
Hell, she was telepathic. That certainly shed a different light on the situation. “Sleep, well, huntress.”
After shutting off the light, he left her alone in the room to contemplate her situation further. Maybe after she slept she’d be more cooperative.
Shaking his head, he seriously doubted it.
Upstairs, Daemon poured himself a glass of wine at his bar and stared at the high-ceilinged greatroom, full of antique mahogany furniture covered in dark brown brocades and velvets that had been in his family for centuries. He contemplated his next move concerning the murdering vampire when the woman screamed from her cellar prison, interrupting his thoughts.