Dead Sexy

by Amanda Ashley

  Once Regan was out of sight of the girls, she began to run. She didn’t know where she was running to, but any place had to be better than where she was.

  She ran until she was out of breath and her legs felt like rubber. With one hand pressed against her aching side, she dropped to the ground and closed her eyes. She had to find help, but where? And where was she?

  Lifting her head, Regan glanced around. Trees. Nothing but trees and a tall mountain in the distance—a mountain with a castle on top. She frowned, thinking that the castle looked vaguely familiar. Something to do with Dracula…it couldn’t be his castle, she thought. That one lay in ruins, but it was said that Dracula had stayed at another castle. Was this the one? It was quite lovely, with rusty colored turrets and lots of windows.

  Rising, she began to walk rapidly, going deeper into the forest. In an effort to avoid thinking about Vasile or the fact that he might be after her, she tried to recall everything she had read about Dracula. While learning to be a vampire hunter, she had studied the famous count’s life, since there were some who believed he had been the first vampire. Though he had been a cruel, unforgiving man, he was hailed as a hero for defending Walachia against the invasion of the Turks centuries ago. It was said that on one occasion, when foreign emissaries refused to remove their turbans in his presence, Dracula nailed their turbans to their heads. Of course, he was famous, or infamous, for impaling hundreds of his enemies for various crimes, a punishment that resulted in days of excruciating agony for the victims.

  Regan walked for what must have been hours, until she couldn’t take another step, and then she walked some more, woodenly placing one foot in front of the other, her fear of being caught by Vasile stronger than her growing thirst.

  Vasile shook Zina’s shoulders. “Where is she?” he demanded. “What have you done with her?”

  “I didn’t do anything.” She spat the words at him. “She was there the last time I looked.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “I don’t know. Two hours ago, maybe three.”

  He shook her again. “How long?”

  “A little after noon.”

  Four hours ago! With an oath, Vasile flung the woman away from him. She staggered backward, striking her head against the wall. The smell of blood filled the air.

  Without waiting to see if Zina was alive or dead, Vasile stormed out of the house, his body shifting as he went. Outside, he sniffed the ground, his nostrils quickly picking up the woman’s scent.

  He would have her before nightfall.

  He was coming.

  Fear lent wings to Regan’s feet but she was too tired, too thirsty, and too hungry to sustain it for long. She had been a fool to think she could outrun a werewolf. With his increased senses, he would find her no matter where she went, and out here, in this seemingly endless forest, there was nowhere to hide.

  She was scrambling up a slight incline when her legs refused to support her any longer. With a sigh of resignation, she dropped to the ground, overcome with a sense of doom and a sudden fear that she had been running in circles for the last few minutes.

  Closing her eyes, she prayed for strength and courage, and then, holding onto a tree, she gained her feet and staggered onward. She had no doubt that Vasile would find her, but she wasn’t going to surrender without a fight!

  She was crossing a stream when the wind shifted and she caught Vasile’s scent. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a fair-haired wolf loping effortlessly toward her. With a wild cry, she darted across the stream and scrambled up the other side, her weariness forgotten as she ran for her life.

  She screamed when his weight slammed into her back, cried out in pain as his momentum carried her to the ground. She landed face-first. Lights exploded behind her eyes. Grunting softly, she struggled to wriggle out from under him, but it was no use. Tears of pain and frustration filled her eyes as she realized there was no escape.

  She lay there, unmoving, trying to get her breath back.

  And then she felt his body shift.

  She made one last effort to escape, shrieked when his hand closed around her ankle, dragging her backward across the rough terrain.

  Effortlessly, he flipped her over, then straddled her hips, his hands pinning her arms above her head.

  “Did you really think you could escape me?” he asked.

  She stared up at him, refusing to answer, refusing to give him the satisfaction of begging for mercy. She knew it would only amuse him.

  “Go on,” she said, “kill me and get it over with.”

  “Kill you?” He laughed in her face. It was a dark, ugly sound. “I’m not going to kill you. Don’t you know it’s against pack law to kill a member of the pack? And you, my dear, are a member of my pack now. I made you, and I’m sworn to protect you. And protect you I will.”

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  He cupped her chin in his palm and gave it a painful squeeze. “Do with you? You’re going to take Marishka’s place at my side.” He laughed that ugly laugh again. “I’m going to make you my queen.”

  Regan stared at him. His queen? She would rather be dead. Screaming, “No, no!” she began to struggle against him again.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice and his gaze as hard as iron. “Tomorrow night, when the moon rises, you will become my bride.”

  Chapter 34

  Santiago hated flying. He wasn’t sure why—perhaps because he wasn’t in control of the aircraft, or perhaps because a plane crash usually involved flaming wreckage, and fire was one of the few things he feared and respected.

  But he would have walked through the fires of hell itself to find Regan. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, willing the plane to go faster, hating the hours and the miles that separated him from his bride. She had been at Vasile’s mercy since yesterday. The very thought filled him with an ever-increasing sense of dread. What sort of revenge would the werewolf exact from her? Would he kill her quickly, or torment her? There were so many ways to inflict pain on both body and soul, and Vasile knew them all.

  Regan. He could no longer envision a world, or the rest of his existence, without her in it. He had become accustomed to having her around. He loved her laugh, lived for her smile, hungered for the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the sweet taste of her lips. Regan. She would be his bride now but for Vasile’s unending hatred and his perpetual need for vengeance…

  Santiago swore under his breath. What right did he have to condemn Vasile when he, himself, had once been guilty of the same relentless need for revenge? But his eternal longing for revenge had been snuffed out in his love for Regan.

  He clung to the faint hope that she was still alive, certain that he would know if she wasn’t.

  “Hang on, Regan,” he murmured. “I will find you.”

  Wracked with fear for her safety, he began to pace the plane’s narrow aisle, his hunger growing with his agitation.

  Would this flight never end!

  There was less than an hour to sunrise when the plane landed. Santiago opened the emergency door and leaped out of the plane before it had stopped on the runway.

  He found shelter in the cool earth beneath a stand of timber moments before the sun’s light brightened the horizon.

  Chapter 35

  Regan paced the small, dark confines of the room where Vasile had imprisoned her.

  His bride. She was going to be his bride at the moon’s rising. The very thought made her sick to her stomach.

  Yet even as she swallowed the nausea rising in her throat, some cruel imp inside her mind kept repeating, “There can only be happiness when like marries like.” As if she could ever be happy with a monster like Vasile. She had seen his handiwork. She knew what cruelty he was capable of.

  She was going to be Vasile’s wife, and if that wasn’t bad enough, she wouldn’t even be his first wife. The woman she had seen in the bedroom earlier had been waiting for Vasile when he returned with Regan in tow. The woman, wh
ose name was Zina, was not at all happy with Regan’s presence, or with the fact that Vasile intended to marry her that night. Zina had poured out her anger and jealousy in the most vitriolic and spiteful tirade Regan had ever heard.

  Vasile had listened for a short time and then he’d struck the woman across the face, bloodying her nose and mouth. Zina had made no attempt to wipe the blood away. She had glared at Vasile, her eyes narrowed with hatred, and then, shoulders back, she had turned and walked away.

  Regan blew out a sigh. Her prison had no windows and she had no idea how long she had been locked up, or if it was day or night.

  She blinked back the tears she had been holding and then, sinking down on the floor, she gave in to the misery that engulfed her.

  But for Vasile, she would be Joaquin’s bride now. Instead, she was going to become Vasile’s wife. Strange, that Joaquin no longer seemed like a monster, while Vasile had become the master of evil. But then, Joaquin had a tender side that she doubted Vasile had ever possessed.

  She would never see Joaquin again, never hear his voice, feel his arms around her, or taste his kisses. That thought made her tears fall harder and faster. Why was life so unfair? She had finally found a man to love, and it turned out that he was a vampire. And now, when she was ready to give herself to him heart and soul, Fate had stepped in again, snatched her away on the eve of her wedding, and brought her here. Oh, it just wasn’t fair!

  Rising, she went to the door and turned the knob. It was locked, of course. She had known that. Nevertheless, she twisted the knob back and forth, over and over again, and when that failed, she slammed her shoulder against the door, tears of frustration washing down her cheeks when it refused to give. There was no way out. No way out…no way out. She was doomed to be Vasile’s bride. Fear congealed in her belly as a new, horrible thought occurred to her. Oh, lord, would he come to her as a man or a werewolf on their wedding night?

  She froze when she heard the snick of the lock being turned. The door opened with a frightful creak, and Vasile stood in the doorway, haloed by the sun’s fading light.

  When she tried to dart past him, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her body up against his. When she struggled, he wrenched her arm behind her back and gave it a painful twist.

  “Stop fighting me,” he said with a growl. “You will be mine tonight.” Eyes glittering, he cupped the back of her head with his free hand and kissed her. His kiss was hard and cruel, a brutal branding, a threat of what was to come. She gagged when he forced his tongue into her mouth, and then she bit down. Bile rose in the back of her throat when she tasted his blood.

  Muttering an oath, he jerked his mouth from hers, then dragged her across the compound to his house. He shoved her inside, slammed the door behind him, and pushed her up against a wall, his body imprisoning hers.

  “You will not fight me,” he said, his face only inches from her own. “You will accept me as your mate without argument. If you shame me in front of my pack, you will regret it many times before this night is over. Do you understand me?” When she didn’t answer, he shook her so hard her teeth rattled. “Do you understand?”

  She glared at him, but wisely nodded.

  Vasile glanced out the window. “The pack is gathering.” He shoved her toward the bedroom. “Go clean yourself up, and change your clothes. You will find a dress in the bedroom. And don’t bother trying to escape. One of my men is standing outside the window.”

  With a curt nod, Regan went into the other room and closed the door. She stood there a minute, then went into the bathroom. She didn’t bother to lock the door. If she refused to come out, Vasile would just break it down.

  After a moment, she went to the sink and looked at her face in the mirror.

  What could not be changed must be endured.

  That which does not break us can only make us stronger.

  “This is no time for platitudes,” she muttered. “I need an escape plan.” She laughed humorlessly. There was no way to escape. She was surrounded by werewolves.

  She washed her hands and face, brushed the dirt and leaves off her clothing as best she could, finger combed her hair, and all the while, she thought of the beautiful wedding dress hanging in her closet. She would never wear it now.

  After returning to the bedroom, she changed into the dress lying on the bed. She didn’t bother looking in the mirror. What difference did it make how she looked?

  She blinked back her tears, wishing that she and Joaquin had made love, that she had given her virginity to the man she loved instead of having it taken, by force, by a monster. All that waiting and all those cold showers for nothing, she thought. She had intended her virginity to be a gift for her husband. Instead, it would be taken violently as an act of vengeance.

  She wondered where Santiago was, if Michael was all right, and if she would ever see her home or her family again.

  She blinked back her tears when she heard Vasile’s voice outside the bedroom door.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  Determined to hang on to her dignity as best she took, Regan took a deep, calming breath, opened the door, and with her head held high, went out to meet her fate.

  She wondered if Vasile could hear the nervous pounding of her heart as he led her outside. She felt a sudden sense of embarrassment that she was about to be married in a hand-me-down dress, and then wondered why she cared. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to marry Vasile. She didn’t know any of the people who had gathered to watch her being forced into a marriage she didn’t want.

  Vasile came to a stop and the pack surrounded the two of them in a loose circle.

  Regan’s heart pounded slow and heavy in her breast. This was it. There was no escape.

  Zina stood on Vasile’s other side. She could feel the woman’s hatred rolling over her like thick black smoke.

  Vasile lifted his hand and the crowd fell silent. “This woman is mine,” he said in a loud voice. “I have made her a member of the pack, and I now declare that she is my mate and that you will treat her as such from this night forward.” He turned his gaze on Regan. “From this night forward, you will be my mate. I promise you my protection and my allegiance.”

  Regan stared at him. Up until this moment, she had secretly hoped for some last-minute miracle. She knew now that her hopes had been in vain.

  “Repeat after me,” Vasile said. “From this night forward, you will be my mate.”

  “From this night forward, you will be my mate.”

  “I swear to you my loyalty and my devotion.”

  She spoke the words slowly, feeling as if they were being torn from her throat.

  “It is done,” Vasile said, and taking her by the hand, he led her back to his house and into the bedroom.

  With a leer, he closed the door, then pushed her down on the bed.

  “You are mine now,” he said.

  Regan slared at him defiantly. “Do what you will, say what you will, I will never be yours.”

  “Willing or not, you will be mine this night.” And so saying, he ripped the dress off her body, then stripped away her underwear, his eyes hot as they moved over her. With his gaze riveted on her face, he stood beside the bed and removed his shirt, revealing a chest covered with a mat of thick blond hair.

  Regan glared at him. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t just lie there and let him rape her without putting up a fight.

  She waited until he sat down to remove his shoes and then she bolted off the bed and headed for the door.

  Her hand was on the knob when he grabbed a fistful of her hair and gave it a sharp yank. She cried out in pain as she stumbled backward. Snarling at her, he shoved her down on the bed and fell on top of her, his mouth covering hers, his body pinning hers to the mattress.

  She writhed beneath him, her nails raking his cheek. He struck her across the face. She bit his shoulder and his cheek.

  It was a violent, bitter struggle. Regan was certain he was going to kill her when, suddenl
y, his body went limp.

  Peering over his shoulder, Regan saw the woman, Zina, standing beside the bed, a club in her hand.

  “He’s mine,” Zina said.

  “You can have him, and welcome,” Regan muttered. “Just get him off of me.”

  Zina shook her head. “I don’t want him. I just want to kill him.”

  “No!” Regan wriggled underneath Vasile’s limp form. “No.” She couldn’t let anyone else kill Vasile. It was something she had to do herself.

  Zina stared at her, obviously confused. “Would you rather have him alive?”

  “No, I want him dead! But I want to do it myself.”

  Zina nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.” She placed her hand over her stomach. “Not for me,” she said, withdrawing a gun from the pocket of her skirt, “but for my baby.”

  Before Regan could protest, before Zina could fire the gun, Vasile rolled off Regan. With a roar of outrage and betrayal, he shifted. When Regan tried to get out of his way, his jaws closed over her neck. Flinging his head to the side, he threw her off the bed as if she weighed no more than a small child. Blood sprayed from her throat, splattering over the blankets, the ceiling, and the wall.

  Regan landed on her back, hard, and lay there, too stunned to move. She could feel the blood flowing over her shoulder and down her arm. So much blood…She knew instinctively that it was a killing wound, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter.

  Growling low in his throat, the wolf turned on Zina.

  White-faced with fear, the woman scrambled backward, firing blindly as she went. The first shot missed, as did the second, and then the wolf was on her.

  With a roar, Vasile swatted the weapon from Zina’s hand. He was about to rip out her throat when a black wolf burst through the window in a spray of broken glass.

  Vasile turned to meet his new attacker, a wolfish grin on his face as he recognized the intruder.