Bound by Passion: The Alliance Series, Book 4

by Davies, Brenda K.

  Chapter Nine

  She saw Saxon’s reflection in the window before she heard him approach. Something about his powerful frame gliding toward her made her heart leap. The almost predatory gleam in his eyes didn’t make her think he was contemplating eating her, but it did bring back the erotic images of him standing in the shower.

  Her throat went dry as he stopped a few feet behind her. His eyes ran over her before he rested a palm beside her on the counter. Elyse’s gaze flew to his hand with its long fingers and large knuckles. Faint bruises marred his knuckles, but the cuts she’d seen on his hands earlier were gone, as was the cut along his hairline.

  His damp hair was pushed back from his face to emphasize the intriguing contours of his face. Free of blood, he was more striking than she’d realized, and her fingers itched to touch him. The fresh scent of shampoo and soap wafted from him, but beneath it, she detected what must be his natural aroma of cedar as she hadn’t smelled cedar until he walked into her life.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. The black sweatpants he wore were a couple of inches too short on him, but thick wool socks covered the gap. Stretched across his shoulders and chest, she expected the stitches of the black sweatshirt to give out at any second.

  Her gaze returned to his socks. Socks! It had been months since she had a pair. She’d worn the pair she arrived here in so often they were threadbare by August and useless by September. They’d defrosted now, but she would give anything to have something warm and soft on her feet.

  But if her guards were gone and Saxon had discovered socks, then she could have some too.

  Saxon wasn’t used to women going from looking like they wanted to jump him to eyeing his socks in the same way. When he slid a finger under her chin, Elyse didn’t recoil or scream at him again. Instead, she continued to stare at his feet before lifting her head to him.

  Elyse blinked at him when Saxon smiled in amusement.

  “Do you have a thing for socks?” he inquired.

  “They look so warm.”

  Stepping back, he gazed at her bare and battered feet. “Don’t you have any socks and shoes?”

  “No. They took my sneakers from me when I got here.”

  He should have realized that when she admitted to running out into the storm barefoot, but he’d assumed she’d decided not to waste time by putting on socks and shoes. Unreasonable and unexpected anger surged through him.

  “Did they let you outside?” he asked.

  Elyse glanced away from him; in the beginning, she would go out more often, but after a while, she stopped. “Sometimes, I would roam the yard, but after a while, I stopped.”

  “You’ve just stayed in this cabin,” he growled.

  Elyse gulped as red filtered into his eyes again. She leaned back, and his finger fell away from her chin. “How are your injuries?” she asked to change the subject.

  Saxon’s gaze ran over her slender figure as she tugged the sleeve of her sweater up on her shoulder. “Fine.”

  “Are your wounds all healed?” she pressed.

  “Some bruises remain, but the rest have healed.”

  Elyse breathed a sigh of relief.

  Stalking over to the fridge, Saxon pulled open the door and bent to examine the contents. He shouldn’t have bothered as he discovered nothing more than a box of baking soda. Trying to control a rage he’d never known he could possess, he walked over and threw open some of the cabinets. The doors crashed against each other and bounced back, but he slammed a hand against them to keep them open.

  When Elyse jumped, he gritted his teeth and made himself calm down. He wasn’t used to having a temper or being irritated. He’d always been the easygoing Defender, the ladies’ man, the one who never turned down a party. He didn’t get annoyed by things; he shrugged them off and went about his day, but for some reason, what they’d done to Elyse pissed him off.

  But why? He started to contemplate the answer, but the cans stacked neatly within the cabinet distracted him. Each of the labels faced him, and as he gazed over them, he realized they were separated into vegetables, soups, and pasta before being arranged alphabetically.

  Her captors hadn’t organized things this way. Elyse had and probably out of sheer boredom. Closing the doors, he moved onto the other cabinets but discovered only a pot, plate, bowl, fork, spoon, and can opener.

  “Is this all they gave you to eat?” he demanded as he returned to the cans.

  Elyse edged away from his unexpected wrath. She didn’t know what made him so mad, but she’d prefer not to be in the presence of an irate vampire.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Those fuckers!”

  No wonder she was so thin, she’d been living off this stuff for nine months. He may not be the most experienced in human needs, outside of their sexual ones, but he knew they required more nourishment than this.

  When he turned toward her again, she was near the back door and gazing at him like he might pounce on her. Saxon took a calming breath when he realized every beat of his heart pumped fury through his veins.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised. “If I have to carry you back to town.”

  Elyse gulped, but she didn’t know if it was because he still unnerved her or because the idea of him carrying her was so enticing. “Yeah, well, I… uh….” She had no idea what to say to him. “I’m going to take a shower. Please stay away from the bathroom while I’m in there.”

  He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “I will.”

  He watched her rush out of the room and listened as drawers opened and closed before the shower turned on. While in the shower, he’d wanted to linger under the stream of hot water as it eased the discomfort of his brutalized body, but knowing she required a shower too, he’d forced himself out so she would have plenty of hot water. He hoped she took the time to enjoy it now.

  Pushing himself away from the counter, he lifted the flashlight from where he’d set it on the table. He didn’t require its beam to guide him, his vampire vision did that well enough, but he took it anyway as he explored the rest of the cabin.

  Between the kitchen and the living room, a door on his left led to the basement. He shone the beam down the steep stairs as the musty scent of mildew filled his nose. Grasping the rickety banister, he held onto it as he descended into the stone cellar.

  He remained on the stairs while he shone the beam around the bare, dirt floor and thick, rock walls. The ceiling was about five feet high, but he didn’t bother to get off the stairs; he’d already seen everything down there.

  Making his way back into the living room, he noted Elyse had moved the couch and coffee table so they were more centered with the TV. Striding toward the front door, he shone the beam into the room to the left of it. The light revealed a pile of dried wood stacked in a metal grate and pushed against the wall.

  If there was wood, there had to be a fireplace. Entering the room, Saxon ran the beam over another brown, leather couch and matching armchair before revealing the bar and desk behind them both. Bottles of liquor and a couple of glasses sat on the bar; the top of the desk was bare.

  Like the bedroom, a layer of dust coated everything in the room, and a layer of grime caked the floor. He frowned as he realized Elyse must stay out of this room too, but why?

  He was halfway to the desk when the flashlight illuminated the gray, stone fireplace. The hearth was empty of any wood or ash, but the black marks on the back told him it was used before. Lifting the beam, he stopped when it reflected off something before illuminating the mantle.

  He moved the flashlight over the fireplace with a growing sense of dread and revulsion.

  * * *

  Elyse turned the shower off and climbed out. When she was out of the tub, she turned the faucet on until a small, steady stream came out. She only hoped turning on the other taps would be enough to keep the pipes from freezing.

  The blood couldn’t jump off and touch her, but s
he kept a minimum of a foot between her, and the clothes Saxon stuffed in the trash as she toweled off and dressed. Her small assortment of clothes meant she went from one overlarge sweater to another, and the same with her jeans, but she had too big socks to keep her feet warm and her bra fit. She didn’t have underwear, but at least she had outerwear.

  She almost giggled as she sat on the edge of the tub and tugged the socks on. She lifted her foot before her and waved it back and forth as she admired the gray socks and wiggled her toes. The material was abrasive against her abused feet, but they were amazingly warm.

  Lowering her foot, she examined the small bathroom with its paneled walls and chipped, gray linoleum floor. The remodel of the kitchen hadn’t extended to this room, and with its green sink and tub, it looked like something straight out of the seventies.

  Steam filled the air and coated the mirror. She found she didn’t want to leave; it was safe in here, warm, and out there Saxon was waiting to ask her more questions she couldn’t answer. She played with the hem of the red sweater as she stared at the door across from her. She couldn’t hide in here forever.

  She pushed herself to her feet, lifted her hairbrush from where she left it on the sink, and brushed out her hair. The cold air hit her when she opened the door, and she almost closed it again to retreat to the tub.

  Instead, she left the bathroom behind and padded down the hall toward the living room. She paused in the door of the hallway to search for Saxon, but she didn’t see any light anywhere, and she didn’t hear him moving around.

  Then, something instinctual made her turn toward the right and the den. Her beam focused on the front door, but she saw a darker shadow amid the others and realized he stood between this room and the den.

  He’d gone in there! He’d seen! He knows!

  The hair on her nape rose as adrenaline coursed through her, but she kept her beam focused on the door. She couldn’t see his face right now. She felt him staring at her; felt his eyes roaming over her body as he examined her, yet she couldn’t move.

  And really what would she do if she could move, run? There was nowhere to go, and she should have known he would explore the cabin while she was in the shower. Even if he hadn’t, it was only a matter of time before he entered that room. The second she pulled him into this cabin, it became inevitable he saw what lay within.

  “Do you care to tell me why there are jars of teeth, fingers, and toes on your mantle, Elyse?”

  Chapter Ten

  Elyse felt like he’d punched her in the gut as she struggled to breathe. She’d known the jars were there, of course, but hearing him say those words somehow made it more real. A part of her had believed that if she avoided the room until they made her go inside it, she could somehow pretend it was all a bad dream.

  Maybe, just maybe, she could keep her sanity if she didn’t acknowledge what resided in those jars… pieces of her dad.

  Grief nearly drove her to her knees, and before she could stop it, she sobbed. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle any more sounds, but the second it released, Saxon turned on his light.

  Elyse turned her head away from the beam but not before he saw the raw anguish etched onto her face. Her shoulders hunched up as if she braced for a blow, and a tear slid down her cheek. It shimmered in the light as it hung off her chin before falling.

  What had these things done to her? No… not to her. She still had her teeth, toes, and fingers. Those were someone else’s body parts in there. He hadn’t considered that she was the one who harvested the pieces, but did she have something to do with them or were they some collection for her?

  Looking at her, he suspected they were for her, but they were meant to keep her in line or break her.

  Before he knew what he was doing, he stepped away from the doorway and walked over to her. She huddled further in on herself when he rested his hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t pull away, and she didn’t scream at him not to touch her. The sharpness of her collarbone poked his hand as the scent of her tears filled the air.

  “What is going on here, Elyse?”

  She wiped the tears from her face. She yearned to unburden herself by telling him, but she didn’t know how he would react to the truth. He could have suffered because of her, or maybe one of his friends had; he could decide to use her ability for himself or that she had to die.

  “I promise you that I’ll get you away from here and keep you safe,” he said.

  He was astonished to realize he meant it. Women had been a big part of his life since he reached maturity and stopped aging. Sex kept him balanced and made it possible for him to forget, if only for a little bit, the craving for blood and death clawing ceaselessly at his insides.

  However, even if he’d enjoyed the company of many women, he’d never felt so protective of one. Those tears tore at him in a way nothing had before. When he pulled her closer, the clean scent of her hair and skin assailed him as she melded against him.

  She should push him away, but when his arms encircled her, Elyse found herself unable to resist sinking into his embrace. It had been almost a year since anyone touched her with kindness; she couldn’t refuse it now. And though she tried to deny it, there was something right about being in Saxon’s arms. It was ridiculous considering he was a bloodsucker, but she wasn’t scared of him.

  He cupped her head and threaded his fingers through her hair as he held her against him. She was so small, so frail, and so battered. What had these bastards done to her?

  “Talk to me, Elyse,” he urged.

  She couldn’t. Maybe he wasn’t her enemy now, but he could become her enemy if she told him everything. Even if she’d never intended to harm anyone, what would he do if he realized she could be a threat to him?

  Saxon held her closer when she remained silent with her head bowed and her tiny hands fisted in his shirt. Normally, being this close to a woman meant only one thing for him, but though he wanted her, all he cared about was keeping her safe and comforting her, even if he wanted to shake the answers from her.

  “Can you at least tell me who the teeth, toes, and fingers belong to?” he asked.

  “They’re not whole fingers,” she murmured.

  “What?” Saxon wasn’t sure he heard her right.

  “The fingers were cut off at the knuckle. Joseph told me it was so they wouldn’t go through the fingers too fast and would have more to cut off later.”

  Saxon had to stop himself from crushing her against him at this revelation. His fangs lengthened at the mention of the vamp who’d once been a Defender like him. For the first time, he wanted Joseph alive so he could kill him.

  “Do you know who they belong to?” he asked.

  Elyse closed her eyes as fresh grief washed through her. “Yes.”

  Saxon waited for her to say more, and eventually, she did.

  “They’re… they’re… my father’s,” she choked out as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  The need to kill something thundered through his veins as his fangs throbbed. He kept Elyse cradled against him as she sobbed.

  He didn’t care what it took, he would get her out of here, and he’d destroy anyone who stood in his way.

  * * *

  Saxon tossed another log on the fire and leaned back as the flames shot up the chimney while the popping wood shot sparks into the air. His face warmed before he rested his hands on his knees and rose.

  His gaze fell on the empty mantle. Earlier, he’d taken the jars out of the cabin and stashed them under the overhang that protected the firewood from the elements. She still refused to come into this room.

  Striding back into the living room, he stopped when he saw Elyse huddled at the end of the couch. Her head lay on a pillow, and the blanket he’d retrieved from her room enveloped her. Like most of the house, her room was spotless, but it reminded him of a monk’s quarters with its twin bed against the wall, no pictures on the wall, and only one small dresser.

  She hadn’t spoken since telling him the body
parts in the jars were her father’s. He settled on the other end of the couch and leaned back to survey her as she stared at the blank TV screen. The flashlight she’d set on the coffee table cast shadows over her pale face and illuminated her red-rimmed eyes.

  “I was a waitress before this at a family restaurant in my town,” she said.

  “Where was that?” he asked.

  “A small town in Pennsylvania.” The blanket fell away from her as she abruptly sat up. “Where are we?”

  “Upstate New York. We’re in the Catskills,” he told her.

  Her shoulders slumped, and she brushed the long strands of her chocolate-colored hair back from her face. “So not Alaska.”

  He smiled as he stretched his legs before him and crossed them at the ankles. He couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the slender column of her throat and the bare shoulder exposed by her too big sweater.

  He tried to ignore the stirring in his cock, but this was the longest he’d gone without sex since he stopped aging and became a full-grown vampire at twenty-five. Usually, he would be going out of his mind by now, but for some reason being in Elyse’s company was relaxing. Which was surprising to realize considering she’d threatened to stake him.

  “Not Alaska,” he said.

  She settled back again and drew the blanket up to her chin. “That’s good to know.”

  A blast of wind rattled the windows, and the fire popped louder in the hearth before settling down again. “So you were a waitress,” he prompted.

  “Yeah. I was taking some online college courses for archaeology, but I mostly worked.”

  “You’re going to be an archaeologist?”

  “No, but it fascinates me, so I decided to learn more about it. I’m not sure what I want to be when I grow up, but I’ve explored a little bit of everything. It’s not exactly great for my bank account, which is why I spend most of my time working, but I enjoy learning new things.”