Kevin shot through the exit and into the underground tunnels like a blue comet, and then burst through the opening beneath the cliff and up into the darkened sky. The blast of wind blew Juliette’s hair into her eyes; he watched her where she sat against an outcropping of stone as he approached.
She’d curled in on herself, her knees to her chest, and now she slowly lowered her hands from her face as he touched down and strode toward her, his boots crunching on the rocks beneath him. She flinched when he lowered himself to one knee in front of her so that they would be eye to eye.
“Juliette, you are going to do something for me,” he told her, allowing his vampire influence to pour over her.
She glared up at him, defiance oozing from her archess pores. He was impressed; any human on earth would have been coaxed into a state of mesmerism by his mere presence. But Juliette Anderson was an archess—and a pissed-off one, at that. She felt she had nothing to lose. There was no reason for her not to disobey.
But now was no time for her rebelliousness. “If you don’t do this thing for me, I will go after your family,” he told her calmly. She tried to look away from him, tried to break eye contact, but he grabbed her chin and turned her to face him once more. “And then I will go after your friends. And when I’ve finished with them, I will choose ten children and kill them off one by one in your name.”
Kevin noted the fear sparking to life in her eyes. She felt good beneath his touch, reminding him of how perfect she was. She was an archess; no one had ever been created to more perfect specifications. Her skin was soft and warm and she trembled beautifully. Her straight white teeth were clenched in resentment and her hazel eyes flashed green with fury. He stared down into them and felt himself harden. He could hear her ragged little breaths and smell the adrenaline lacing her powerful blood. His teeth began to ache in his gums.
Somewhere close by, lightning crashed into the North Sea and thunder rolled closely after it. Kevin released her chin to let his hand slip to her throat, where he gripped her just tightly enough to drive his point home. “None of that, little one,” he warned, knowing full well that the weather was responding to her anger. “If you so much as send a single spark into any one of my men, I swear, I will make those children suffer. Do you understand me?”
She nodded, her luminescent eyes wide, her pained expression exquisite to behold.
“Good.” He nodded his approval, his gaze boring into hers. “Good girl.” He stood, taking her with him, his hand still around her throat. She gasped and her hands came around his wrist instinctively. Kevin noticed something gold flash around her left wrist. He frowned, narrowing his gaze. He hadn’t noticed it on her before. The surface of the gold wreath bore intricate engravings of wording that looked familiar to him. Ancient wording . . .
But there was no time.
Kevin pulled Juliette to him with his hand at her throat, and wrapped her tightly in his embrace. Once more, he took to the skies, diving over the cliff to the sound of her breath catching and her heart hammering wildly. He shot through the tunnels beneath the ground, one hand over her head to protect it from any near misses.
And then he was coming through the giant metal door and into the bunker. With a vaporous flourish, he landed at the center of the group of men and released Juliette, allowing her to stand on her own.
He steadied her with one hand on her shoulder as she pulled away from him enough to see that she was surrounded by Adarians. The five of his men who could stand slowly came to their feet, their stark eyes glued to the promising young woman who had been deposited into their ranks. Kevin recognized the emotions crossing their faces. They were angry, injured, in pain. They were hungry for revenge—and for other things.
Juliette spun a slow circle in their center, no doubt feeling she was surrounded by sharks. She was defenseless as long as she remembered his warnings. And his men all but knew it; the looks in their eyes were darkly promising. Juliette saw it, too; she did so unconsciously, he knew, but she backed up against him, her pulse so fast, he wondered if her little heart would simply give out.
He took advantage of the situation and bent over her until his lips were next to her ear. “Heal him, little one.” She stiffened in front of him as his words whispered across her skin, but he gestured over her to Paul’s prone body and once more took her neck in his fast grip. “I will only tell you once,” he added. And then he let her go.
Juliette took a slow, stumbling step forward, closing the distance between herself and the cot on which Paul lay. Kevin watched her carefully, ready to react should she try anything dangerous. The other men stepped back a bit, giving her room. But their eyes followed her like the eyes of wolves on little Red.
She knelt beside Paul’s body and pressed her fingers to his throat.
“He lives, but barely,” Kevin supplied, saving her the trouble.
She nodded her understanding and placed her hand palm down upon his chest. Several seconds passed and nothing happened. He could hear Juliette’s pulse quicken once more. Kevin moved up behind her and knelt down. He placed his hand over hers and felt nothing. No heat. No warmth. No healing energy at all.
Wrath rushed through him, hot and red, and he stood once more, grabbing her with a fist in her hair and yanking her up with him. She gasped in pain but remained otherwise silent. He spun her around and brought his face to hers. His hand remained fisted at the back of her head, holding her immobile. “What have you done?” he demanded, hissing the words across her lips.
Juliette did not answer. Her eyes were fully green now, flaring with emerald fire as she glared up at him in utter defiance. Kevin grabbed her once more by the throat with his free hand and she again wrapped her fingers around his wrist.
He caught the glint of the gold band and paused. It seemed to shimmer more brightly than before.
He glanced up into her eyes and saw the answer there. She couldn’t hide it from him. He took the thoughts from the surface of her mind as if skimming a small pond for lily pads. He bared his teeth, flashing fangs, and then squeezed the hand around her neck. With his other, he released her hair and curled his fingers around the gold band, giving it a good yank. It was warm in his grip, but when it didn’t burn, he could feel his men shift in stunned silence.
Still, the bracelet remained attached to her wrist, bruising her where he’d pulled against it. It wasn’t going anywhere. He had to fight his own strength and his own anger now to keep from killing her outright. “Take it off,” he commanded, growling the words through a clenched jaw.
“Bite me,” she said, echoing the thought she’d hurled at Mitchell earlier that night.
“Fine,” he replied, and without pause he fisted his hand in her hair once more in order to yank her head back, exposing her throat. He’d learned over the last few nights that there were two ways a vampire could bite an individual. He could just do it—and it would hurt, as if two fork prongs were being embedded into the side of the victim’s neck. Or he could do it and flood his victim with an influence that took away the pain and substituted pleasure.
Kevin wasn’t in a generous mood. And so as his fangs delved into the side of the archess’s throat, he was struck with two things at once. One was her scream as the pain overtook her, buckling her knees beneath her. The other was the rush of pleasure he received at having her flesh between his teeth and her blood across his tongue. He swallowed, holding her limp body against him, and his pleasure spread, arcing through his entire body.
But by the time he’d swallowed his third or fourth mouthful, he was beginning to realize that there was something missing. It was blood and it was the sweetest blood he had ever tasted—but it was just blood. There was no magic in it.
He concentrated more deeply, willing her power to leave her body and enter his own. There was no change. Nothing happened and the archess was growing weak in his grasp. He felt her heart flutter and heard her moan in helpless pain, and he frowned against her neck. This wasn’t right. I’m killing her, he tho
ught. And it’s pointless. The bracelet obviously kept her powers within her and prevented him from taking them through her blood.
With that bitter realization, he reined himself in and pulled his fangs from her throat. She was limp in his arms. He bent and lifted her, gazing down at the side of her neck where it was marred by two deep, angry red holes that dripped precious archess blood. “Take her,” he told Mitchell, handing Juliette to the tall, dark-haired Adarian she’d been promised to.
Mitchell took her from Kevin’s arms and Kevin turned and knelt beside Paul’s prone form. His gut clenched; his heart ached. Too many, he thought. He’d lost too many lately. One of them by his own hand.
And the world was getting smaller.
But Paul’s heartbeat was barely discernible now. He was nearly gone. It was do it this way—or lose all of him forever. Kevin bent over his fallen soldier and whispered into the man’s ear, “Forgive me.” With that, he turned Paul’s head to the side and sank his fangs into the man’s throat.
The Adarians around him were silent. It was as if they understood. Or maybe it was that they were too shocked—too afraid—to say anything at all. Whatever the reason, the room became a mortuary as Kevin drank Paul’s blood and absorbed his power along with it. It was over in less than thirty seconds. Paul’s heart stopped beating altogether and his life force slipped away.
Kevin extracted his fangs from his soldier’s neck and stood, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He could feel Paul’s power there residing within him now—ready for the taking. He turned and looked at the archess in Mitchell’s arms. Her eyes were open beneath half-closed lids; she was weak but conscious.
She watched him warily, hopelessly, and he approached like a wolf fresh from the kill. “How do I get the bracelet off?” he asked, allowing his power to pour over her. He didn’t hold back. He bombarded her with its potency, wanting the truth and wanting it now.
She shuddered beneath the weight of his words and magic and groaned when it set off an aphrodisiac-like reaction within her body. Mitchell watched her knowingly and then glanced up at his general with dark, glittering eyes.
Kevin brushed the hair from her cheek and waited. Juliette’s lips parted and she spoke, though the sound was a harsh, hoarse whisper, as her tender throat no doubt prevented anything else. “I . . . can . . . remove it.”
“She speaks the truth,” Mitchell said. He’d been in her head. But Kevin didn’t need the affirmation; he’d been in there as well. The ability to read minds was a vampiric power, and his transformation into one of the supposed undead was complete.
Apparently only the individual who put the bracelet on could take it off again. She had already refused to do as much once. It had cost him the life of one of his men. And now if he didn’t get it off her soon, it was going to cost Mitchell a healing power.
Kevin could feel Paul’s stolen power add itself to the cocktail of the others he already had swirling inside. He felt volatile. Strong. “Take it off, Juliette,” he commanded, using every ounce of his newly learned vampiric power to bend her will with his words.
Behind her, Mitchell shook his head as if to clear it and swayed on his feet. Kevin reached out to steady him with a strong hand. Juliette blinked once, and then shifted in Mitchell’s arms. Kevin smiled as she began to reach for the bracelet with her other hand.
But the bunker was plunged into chaos before her fingers closed over the metal. The heavy bunker door came off its hinges and went flying into several Adarians against one wall. The ground, walls, and ceiling began to tremble, and the lights began to flicker menacingly. One of them sparked—and then they all went out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
There was a growling sound beside Juliette, then a grunt of pain, and she was falling. But before she could hit the ground, a second set of arms lifted her, crushing her to another strong chest. She closed her eyes and curled inward, feeling exhausted and dizzy and disoriented. Beyond the periphery of her senses were the distant sounds of scrambling and scraping accompanied by the shouts of the Adarians.
There was nothing she could do as her hair began to whip about in a strong breeze as her captor began to move through the darkness at roller-coaster speed.
“It’s okay, Jules. It’s me,” came a deep voice at her ear. She felt something incredibly soft brushing her cheeks and caught the scent of spice or incense. She recognized the voice, but it took her a minute of frantic mental fumbling for her to place it. It reminded her of the movie Comeuppance. And then she remembered. Christopher Daniels.
Uriel! Relief washed over her, though she knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet.
She turned slightly in his arms, enough to open her eyes and look around just as he shot from the opening of the underground caverns and into the moonlit night beyond. His massive black wings emerged above them, stretching to their full length, and shimmered black and green, nearly iridescent. They beat the air with a hard and steady rhythm, taking them up to the top of the cliff.
There, he gently touched down, still holding her fast in his arms.
“She’s injured,” he said, gazing at someone over her head. She wanted to see who it was, but her neck hurt too much for her to turn her head.
“She’s wearing the bracelet,” Michael said as he stepped up to them. Juliette felt more reassurance wash over her at the appearance of the second brother.
“You did good, lass,” Gabriel said. This time, Juliette did turn her head, despite the pain. The former Messenger Archangel was standing there beside her, his tall, broad form seeming to shield her from the world. His black hair billowed in the sea breeze, the five-o’clock shadow on his strong chin making him appear ever the rake. He was so gorgeous, her pain eased a little at the very sight of him. He looked down at her in Uriel’s arms and his silver eyes claimed her as they always had. “That’s my girl.”
But then he somewhat reluctantly stepped back out of the way and Michael placed his hand to Juliette’s chest. The familiar light and heat she’d felt when he’d healed her before returned once more and the pain in her neck gradually slipped away. But the weakness remained. She frowned, wondering what was different this time.
“I’m sorry, Jules,” Michael said softly as he removed his hand. His stark blue eyes looked a tad bloodshot. “I can’t replace the blood loss. It’s not within my power.”
Juliette could not feel disappointed. She was grateful that they were all there with her, to say nothing of the fact that the holes in her neck had been closed up. “Thank you,” she said softly, meaning it with all of her heart. “How are you here?” They were more than three hundred miles from the Hebrides. How had they all found her? How had they gotten there so quickly?
“Az found you,” Uriel told her. “Then he contacted us and we used the mansion’s portal to get here.”
Speaking of the vampire archangel, where was Azrael? She glanced around and saw Max standing a few feet away. Only Az was missing.
Uriel’s grip on her tightened suddenly as the ground beneath him began to buck. “Time’s up,” he muttered, beating his giant wings once to take them both into the air a safe few feet from the turbulent rock. Juliette looked down as the rock began to crack and separate, opening up like the gates to hell.
She squealed and ducked her face into Uriel’s shoulder when the ground then exploded outward and dirt and stone went flying in a nasty, painful spray. Uriel curled his wings over her body and she could hear the stones buffet the thick, feathered appendages. Then he was spinning away from the new opening and depositing her on the ground a few yards away as two figures shot out from the depths of the crack—two blurs, one black and one blue.
Juliette found her footing and though she could still feel blood loss bending her knees, she retained enough strength in the heat of the moment to stand on her own. She had no choice. Because once the impressive struggling figures of Azrael and Abraxos had drilled their way to the surface, the other Adarians had followed. Now the six remaining soldiers engage
d the four brothers and their guardian once more.
Juliette stumbled backward, trying to make heads or tails of the chaotic clash between Adarian and archangel. They were very nearly equally matched. However very nearly was not close enough. Not to ensure Juliette’s safety—not this time.
“Take off the bracelet, Juliette,” came a calm, cool voice from behind her.
Juliette whirled around to face the dark-haired man with piercing black eyes who read her mind and gazed at her as if she belonged to him. She was able to get a good look at him now that he wasn’t freezing her with his power or knocking the ground out from under her.
As far as the tall, dark, and handsome thing went, he was a woman’s wet dream. He was certainly tall, as all Adarians were. He was broad-shouldered and slim and wore dark jeans, boots, and a white button-down shirt beneath a black sport coat. His chin was stubbled slightly and his dark eyes sparked with specks of what she could now see were different colors embedded in the blackness. Like stars.
She wondered what his name was.
He smiled at her, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “Mitchell,” he told her softly, taking a step toward her as he looked down at the ground. “Juliette, you seem to be a woman of integrity,” he said then, his expression becoming contemplative. Behind her, lightning struck and thunder boomed, causing her to duck and cover her ears.
A few seconds later, she was straightening again and Mitchell was continuing as if nothing had interrupted him. “I’ve met a lot of women over the years,” he told her, finally looking back up to meet her gaze again. He stepped forward. She stepped back. The sounds of struggle were all around her. “And I’ve been in their heads,” he continued. “I’ve never been as impressed with any of them as I am with you. So, I’ll make you a deal.” He stopped and shrugged, his hands still in his pockets.