Broken Elites (The Vampire Legacy Book 3)

by Rita Stradling

  Never would I have thought that I’d find Amber the better companion until I met her dad. I took the stairs two at a time and followed Amber toward the wide, dark wood portal into her house when another blond man stepped directly into my path. His green eyes glittered, but I wasn’t sure why he looked so intrigued until he spoke, “Damn, you look so human. Can I see your fangs?”

  Ignoring his hand, I bared my teeth at the college-age looking guy. “January Moore, and no, I only have fangs when I’m about to drink blood. I’m very picky about who I bite.”

  “Uh-oh, Grayson. You’ve met your match,” Lou said with a chuckle as he led Mitch onto the porch with an arm around his back.

  “You’re really going to compare me to an undead bloodsucker.” Grayson straightened, looking taken aback. When I examined his eyes once more, I knew that the gleam I spotted in there was loathing.

  “Grayson…” Lou clicked his tongue.

  Grayson turned away, but not before I heard him mutter under his breath, “This is a joke...”

  I barely saw Lou Davenport move. One second he was embracing Mitch, and the next, he had a hand squeezing the back of his son’s neck while the younger version of himself cringed. “Now, we’re all here to get along and have a nice dinner, right son?”

  The cords of Grayson’s neck stood out as he swallowed hard. “I’m not in the right mood for dinner. Permission to go downstairs, Father.”

  “Permission denied. We’re all going to be proper hosts for our guests.” Lou clapped his son on the back. “Probably a good idea that you take a few minutes to yourself anyway, son. Mitch, why don’t you join me for a whiskey on the veranda.”

  The moment his father released him, Grayson swept past us and strode into the house without looking back. Amber waited for me just inside. She wore a loose white dress that fell over her thin but muscular frame.

  As I fell into step beside her, Amber muttered, “You’re going to have to get used to that now that the Elites are telling their kids what you are.”

  I wasn’t sure if her statement was meant as a jab or was just a statement of fact.

  “I’m already used to assholes,” I said, and I gave her what I hoped was a meaningful look. “Thanks.”

  “Except you’re really not.” She stepped up onto a sprawling dark wood staircase that slanted up the length of the foyer and led to a low-lit hallway. Paintings of sensual women lined the wall, displaying the beauty of the female form in gowns and dresses that slipped off their shoulders. All of the eyes were downcast, and yet I felt watched as we crossed through the hallways.

  Even though the dark wood house was beautifully crafted, the foreboding feel of the outside was nothing to the oppressive constricting feel of the inside of Amber’s mansion.

  “You hate my house,” Amber said.

  “It’s a really beautiful house,” I replied, trying to be diplomatic, even though a shiver was creeping down my spine.

  “It’s not just you,” Amber said as she ran her hand over the handrail. “The house was cursed last year, and now it tries to kill anyone who enters. The witch who broke the curse did a bang-up job. Now it just tries to hurt us.”

  “Why didn’t you move?” I asked.

  “Obviously, I already moved. I don’t live here.” Amber threw open the door to a room that looked like a bedroom for a three-year-old. Everything was pink and frilly. Amber was a lot of things, but frilly wasn’t one of them. I’d have been less surprised to find her room all black with Metal Band posters spanning the walls.

  “Stay here.” Amber disappeared into her closet and came out with a black plastic trash bag. “You can keep anything from here. I was going to donate it anyway. Shoes are at the bottom.”

  The entire time she talked to me, her eyes were fixed pointedly away like she was being forced to acknowledge my existence, but doing everything in her power to not.

  With a loud bang, Amber’s windows flew open an inch and fell back in their tracks. My heart jumped, but Amber barely seemed to notice.

  “Just the curse saying hello. Don’t worry. The curse can do that all day, and it wouldn’t shatter the windows. My windows are reinforced and welded so they only open an inch.” Amber crossed the room toward me, and her gaze flicked to mine for just an instant. Her step faltered.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” Her jaw clenched, making her chin all the more defined. “I just don’t like people being in this house.”

  “Because of the curse?” I asked.

  “Because it’s none of your business,” she said.

  “I know the feeling all too well.” I shook my head.

  “You’re talking about the house you lived in before Blackburn?” Her auburn brows rose. “Charlotte told me about where you lived.”

  Of course Char did. “And, you probably don’t appreciate that comparison very much because I’m talking about the condemned house I grew up in, and your mansion looks like it could be featured in a magazine—except for the curse part.”

  “Picture perfect, just like its occupants.” I didn’t hear pride in her brag. It sounded more like scorn. As she passed me, Amber muttered, “Charlotte misses you. You should talk to her.”

  “I miss her too, but I can’t trust her.” I didn’t trust Char even before I knew she was an informant, but now that I knew, I could never be her friend again.

  Amber’s mouth twisted into something that almost resembled a smile. “You still trust people?”

  “Less every day.”

  “That’s good for your chance of survival.” She turned to leave.

  “Amber, wait.”

  She paused for a moment and pivoted toward me. “Can I help you with something?”

  “How long have you known what I was?”

  “A while.” She shrugged.

  Interesting. Amber had been a bitch to me since the moment we met and every moment since, but she had treated me with the same contempt as she did everyone else.

  Leaning in, Amber whispered. “My father loves blindsiding people, but I don’t relish the idea of sending you into some sort of panic. Sebastian Holter is here, handcuffed, and surrounded by a team of Elites, and I guess my father wants you to look pretty for their ambush. Welcome to the Davenport household.” With that, she grabbed the door to her room and started to shut me inside. As she closed it, she said, “Don’t try to escape from my room—my father ensured that was impossible long ago.”

  Panic surged up through my chest, and I rushed to Amber’s windows, throwing open the locks and shoving the wooden frame upward, but it only opened a couple of inches before they hit steel bars welded into her window tracks.

  I pressed my forehead into the cold pane. Crap. I couldn’t run. Mitch was on the veranda with Mr. Davenport, completely unaware that Sebastian was in the house. Getting to Mitch meant that I had to not raise any alarm bells. There was no way in hell that I was going to let Sebastian and his lackeys spring this trap on me.

  My stomach tied into a hard knot as I ripped open her donation bag, and colorful dresses spilled out. I grabbed a black dress with two slits up its side. The only flat shoes at the bottom of the bag were a pair of ankle boots that were at least a size too big.

  When I reopened the door, Amber stood there, staring at her phone. “Are you ready?” She asked, sounding like she was asking if I was ready to go for a stroll rather than to walk straight into a trap. Turning off her phone, she slipped it in a small red clutch purse. “I actually kind of like your ensemble.” She gestured up my body, “I’ve changed my mind about donating. Have it dry cleaned and returned to me, yeah?”

  “Sure, Amber. I’ll get right on that.” I headed straight past her and down the stairs. At the bottom, I realized that I had no idea where I was, so I let Amber take the lead. My heart fluttered, and every part of me felt too hot as we strolled down the wide hallways.

  Amber’s purse buzzed, and she stopped abruptly to pull out her phone. Checking the phone screen, her expression grew
more rigid. “I’m supposed to take you straight to Sebastian.”

  “Nope. You need to be taking me to where Mitch is.”

  “Here.” Amber shoved her phone into my hand.

  On it was a text with a short message from Mr. Davenport.

  Take the dhampir directly to the library where Sebastian Holter has been duly restrained. If the girl resists, tell her that Sebastian knows a secret about someone she cares about, and it’s a secret that would see that person killed.

  I knew immediately which secret Sebastian was referring to. He was the one who turned Justin into a demon. One word from Sebastian and the Hawthorn Group would send Justin to his death, but Sebastian had withheld the knowledge.

  A drawer on a nearby hallway table slammed open, just missing both Amber and me.

  “Up to you on if you go,” Amber said as she slid the drawer closed without even glancing down. She picked up her phone and deleted the message with a slide of her finger across the screen. “I’m not going to force you into that room with him.”

  “Even if I refuse, Sebastian is going to find a way to be alone with me. This is his way of saying that even while he’s in chains now, he still has enough power to get to me, and he does.” My eyes felt hot, and I scrubbed my cheeks. “I’m not crying. I’m just so angry.”

  “When I was little, I used to cry when I was angry,” Amber said. “I can drive you back to the dorms before my father notices.”

  The offer was so unexpected, and everything in her body posture communicated that she meant it. She was hugging herself protectively across the waist. It was a well-known fact that Amber Davenport was the deadliest Elite on campus, but she looked as scared as I felt. Her lip trembled, and for just a moment, she and I had something very real in common. We both were terrified of Sebastian Holter.

  Everything in me wanted to say hell yes, but I couldn’t take the chance Sebastian would spill the beans about Justin. I also wasn’t about to abandon Mitch here alone with his brother in the house, chained or not. “I can’t leave… but will you do me a favor?”

  “What?” Amber snapped. Her green gaze anxiously darted about the space.

  Damn. I hated to ask this. I knew that she had a bad history with the man. Well, I could sense it. But, my chances of survival were so much higher if she was close by. Swallowing the last remaining scraps of my pride, I asked, “Will you make sure he’s really chained up before you leave me alone with him?”

  Amber tensed and shook her head. “My father wouldn’t risk you getting murdered at his house. It would cause him too much controversy.”

  “Comforting,” I managed to make the word come out in a deadpan tone, though my heart was racing so fast it was hard to take in deep breaths.

  Amber’s tongue flicked over the front of her teeth. “If you insist on going, I’ll wait outside the room, but I’m not getting any closer.”

  From her expression, it was all I was going to get from her. And, honestly, having Amber watch my back tonight was false comfort. If Sebastian was truly on the loose, I would probably already be dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Amber’s family library was pretty much a book prison. The dark wood shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, but every book was secured away behind thick glass and padlocks. The only other feature of the room was a few scattered furnishings that sat bolted to the floor. It didn’t even smell like books, instead the room was filled with the astringent burning aroma of bleach.

  As I entered, the cabinet doors encasing the books all rattled at once. Across the room, a window flew open a crack, slamming against the steel bars in the tracks. The curse was saying hello, or, more accurately, trying to hurt me and being thwarted.

  The feeling of the room was foreboding and cold, but I wasn’t sure if that was from the Davenport curse or from the man chained to the dark wood table.

  I halted. “Sebastian?”

  He didn’t look up. His head was down, his forehead resting on the polished wood. Sebastian had thick, metal cuffs around his wrists that fed through the table’s legs. His skin was red and raw around the metal, meaning that the chains probably came off rarely. It made me wonder if the Hawthorn Group had used a special kind of metal for his cuffs—something that stopped his dhampir powers from immediately healing the abrasions.

  I glanced back at the door to the library that I’d left cracked open. Through the small sliver of space, I saw the flaming red hair of my unlikely ally. Amber Davenport was still there, listening to see if I needed help. It eased the tension in my gut a little, even though I was pretty sure that Amber disliked me enough to just let me die.

  “You blackmailed me into coming here, Sebastian. Did you have anything you wanted to say?” I asked when he still didn’t look up.

  “You have to understand, January, what I did to you wasn’t personal.” His head rose slowly. Dark circles ringed his vibrant blue eyes, making them stand out all the more. A black stubble beard ran over his jaw. His sweatpants and white t-shirt looked clean, but plain. Clearly they allowed him to shower but not groom in the meticulous way he always had when he was the owner of the Hawthorn Group. He looked ten years older than my twenty-year-old mentor, but I couldn’t see anything inhuman in his appearance. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Nothing changed about my appearance after I died except my fangs, and those only appeared when I was about to feed.

  “It felt personal to me. I’m sure all the other people you killed took it personally too.” My words came out cold, but my anger was anything but cool. Heat was licking up my insides as I stared at the man who killed so many innocent people.

  “But it wasn’t personal with them either. Eight people had to die so generations of Elites could protect millions of people. And you had to die so I could be the ultimate soldier in this war. I should have no weaknesses, but you remain my fatal flaw.” Sebastian’s eyelids narrowed over his bright blue irises. On the day Sebastian Holter intruded on my life, I remember my first thought had been that he had “demon eyes”. Now that I had seen true demon eyes, I knew I’d been ignorant. Sebastian didn’t have demon eyes, he had the eyes of a man so self-centered that all others’ existence was deemed unimportant to him.

  “The moment you stepped into the room, I felt you,” he said, “My blood sings when you’re near me. Do you feel that?”

  “I don’t feel anything but revulsion.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Sebastian, you went to a lot of effort to get me into this room. Was it just to tell me that you don’t feel any remorse for the crimes you’ve committed? Because I already knew that.”

  His eyes slid to half-lidded and he laid his head back, so his neck was fully exposed. “Why should I feel remorse for saving humanity from an unspeakable evil?”

  “You are an unspeakable evil. You think that everything you’re doing is justified because now you have super-soldiers to control Supernaturals, and you’re this immortal and impossible to beat fighting machine—ensuring the supremacy of the Hawthorn Group, but there’s a really big fault in your logic. Every single Supernatural attack that we’re facing has been orchestrated by you. There’s only a threat because you’re obsessed with being seen as this amazing solution.”

  He chuckled and lowered his head until his blue eyes met mine. “You’re not even capable of comprehending my vision.”

  “What do you want from me?” I articulated each word. “Tell me, or I’m leaving.”

  He inhaled a long, shaky breath, and I realized that he had been stalling. Whatever he was about to say scared him deeply, so deeply that I could read it in his wan features. “Give me the command to touch my toes. I need to know for sure if you have a compulsion power over me.”

  A pulse of unease thrummed through my chest. It felt like a trap. It had to be a trap. “I signed a contract saying that I’d never command you. It was binding.”

  “Clearly, you didn’t look at the terms of your contract.” Sebastian’s eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “It’s only binding aft
er I’m free.”

  I memorized the terms of the contract, but this still felt like a trap. I glanced back at the door, checking for the red of Amber’s hair, before I stepped further into the room. “I know you think I’m your weakness because I can command you, but I don’t want anything to do with you, Sebastian.”

  He rolled his head forward. “Command me. This is your last chance,” Sebastian ground out, his jaw muscles going taut. “Give me the command, January, or I will reveal the truth about your boyfriend.”

  I took another step forward and lowered my voice. “Did you play a part in the strzyga demons coming here?”

  “I told you to command me to touch my toes, January. Lucky for you, I feel no compulsion to answer you—”

  “Answer my question,” I snapped. “I command it. Did you play a part in the strzyga demons coming to Brightside?”

  Sebastian’s jaw clenched, and his lips pinched together until they were bleached white. His eyelids opened so wide, his bloodshot eyes looked at risk of falling out of his skull. His answer was barely a whisper. “Yes, I did.”

  “Of course you did, you self-obsessed asshole. How did you get a message to them?” I asked. “Answer me.”

  “Through a demon contact,” Sebastian said through ragged breaths.

  “What was the contact’s name? Answer me.”

  My eminent murder glowed in Sebastian’s blue eyes. “I don’t know his true name. Now no more commands, or so help me I will tell the Hawthorn Group exactly what the strzyga demons are looking for.”

  I shook my head. “You’re going to eventually no matter what I do. Why else would you set this up?”

  “January…” Sebastian spat. The metal of his cuffs slid up the thick wood table leg, and he leaned in toward me. Suddenly, I felt anything but protected by those thin metal links. I felt as if I was back in his home gym, waiting for abrupt and sudden pain when he attacked me in the guise of training me. Except back then, he had a reason to keep me alive. “How effortlessly you give into your vampire nature.”