by TL Reeve
Grainger closed his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to see her again. Realistically, he realized he wouldn’t see her until the auction, but a guy could hope. Already he could feel his body atrophying due to the lack of blood. He snorted. Just his luck. This could be the one mission he didn’t return from.
A groan from his right caught his attention. He turned his head, wincing in pain, trying to see beyond the blackness to wherever the sound came from. When the noise came again, he listened for a heartbeat. There. In the darkness, he could see the red blood traveling through the body of his prison mate. Grainger inhaled. The scent of fresh dirt covered the smell of everything else in the space.
“Hello?” Grainger’s speech was slurred. “Who’s there?”
“W-where am I?” the voice called out.
“Florida.”
“Ugh...” The clank of chains sounded again, and this time Grainger could place how far away the person was. “Not how I expected my weekend to go.”
“Same.” Grainger tried to move but hissed. “Stupid iron.”
“I know that voice. Grainger?” the man hedged.
What were the chances? There were only two options. One, the person did know him, and they were friendly. The second, Yegor Orlov’s men knew his name and were trying to bait him to give up information on his team. With only those two choices, Grainger decided to keep quiet. It was for the best.
“It’s Yevgeni,” the man whispered.
Shock filled Grainger. “How did you... Why are you...” He shook his head. This wasn’t good. If Yevgeni was there, the chances of Natasha being found or worse her brothers and their mate, as well, were greater.
“Long story.”
“Woman issues?” Grainger muttered.
“And men. I thought I knew them well enough. Seems, I was in their way.”
“Then Natasha is in trouble?” Grainger sat up a bit straighter, biting back the string of curses on the tip of his tongue.
“No, none of that. She is well protected. It appears, someone wanted the Nemescu family business and when they found out I no longer controlled it, well, let's just say they weren't happy.” Yevgeni sighed. “We have been preparing for this. For years. At some point during the planning, Carolinne and Vicktor began working together. I should have known. One was too sweet. The other too cold and calculating.”
“So, they gave you to Yegor?”
Yevgeni grunted. “It would appear so.”
Shit. Not only did they have to worry about Lyle, but they also had to deal with Yevgeni and the Nemescu fortune being at stake. In less than thirty-six hours their whole plan had spiraled out of control. “There's to be an auction.”
“I am aware,” Yevgeni answered. “I am to be sold into slavery. My body and blood used until I am broken and the whereabouts of Natasha and her brothers are revealed.”
“Shit. Not good.”
“No, not at all.” The chains rattled again. “As it is, they almost bled me dry. I’m hungry and irritated.”
“I understand,” Grainger replied.
“How did you end up here?” Yevgeni pressed.
“I’d rather not say, due to the circumstances. I’m here though.” If anyone listened to their conversation, he couldn’t give away the fact he’d infiltrated their warehouse. It would put Abraham and Fallon at risk.
“Understood. It must be dark now. I don’t feel the pull of the sun and sleep.”
“Yes. I felt the same.” Any other time the room would have been bright as if illuminated by the sun, however, due to the lack of blood, his senses were dulled like Yevgeni’s.
“We should come up with a plan,” the man hedged. “To get out of here.”
Grainger smirked. He already had one.
Fallon clutched the small bag in her hand. When Ghost returned, he had some synthetic blood he liberally poured all over the eyeballs. It made them messy and grosser than they already were, but it worked. They appeared freshly plucked and real-er than what they were. The fake blood even smelled of cooper with the edge of an iron bite. She had so many questions, however, she knew none of them would be answered, so she kept them to herself.
Abraham and she didn’t say much as they walked along the path leading to the warehouse. There wasn’t much to say. Both of them wore the contacts fitted with a camera so they could take as many pictures as possible without being noticed. It became apparent when no photos arrived after they’d left, Grainger either didn’t have the strength to take them or he couldn’t. The idea of him being placed somewhere, alone and hungry didn’t sit well with her.
As they approached the building, Abraham slung his arm over her shoulders and tucked her into his side, playing up their connection, though they didn't have to since they were bonded.
The two men with AR-15s stared at Fallon and Abraham before parting, allowing them to continue toward the building. Abraham's soft grunt caught her attention, but when he didn't say anything, she brushed it off as nothing. Fallon pushed through the door first and was greeted by chaotic noises. Trucks backed up to the loading docks while others were pulling away. A small group of men stood over crates yelling instructions to the forklift drivers. She blinked twice, taking pictures of the activity before they went in search of their ‘boss.’
Each aisle bustled with activity. Though the auction should have been on a more intimate level, the amount of activity said otherwise. Large containers lined the space of the warehouse floor and were being filled with items. Each thing had a lot number and an opening bid price tagged to it. It made sense then. They weren't doing the auction there, but somewhere else and on a much larger scale than any of them realized.
“There you are,” the leader said, coming up to Fallon and Abraham. “I am surprised you’re back so soon.”
“Sometimes luck is on our side,” she said, holding up the bag. “Just so happens we found a seer.”
“Excellent.” The man took the bag from her. “They’re still messy.”
“Kind of hard to clean up when you’re gouging them out of someone’s head.” She shrugged as a thread of revulsion slipped through her.
The man removed one of the eyes from the bag and Fallon held her breath. From where she stood, they looked real. The leader held the eye up to the light turning it from side to side before walking over to one of the counters adjacent to where they’d been standing. “I must test it.”
Fallon nodded. “Go right ahead.”
The man pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open. He held the eye like someone would a hardboiled egg then, as Ghost said he would, sliced a piece of the sclera off the side of the eye. He then placed it on his tongue and swallowed it. His eyes fluttered closed and a smile spread across his face. When he opened them, he laughed. “Very good. Very, very good. I will transfer the money to an account set up for you last night. It will arrive within the hour.” He put his pocketknife away then placed the eye back into the bag. “You have a knack for this, Fú zé. You can become rich working for us.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll stick around then.”
“Da. You should.” He wrote something on his clipboard then strode toward one of the containers before stopping. “Explore the warehouse. This is your new home.”
She glanced at Abraham who’d been silent the whole time. His eyes narrowed as he stared down one of the aisles. “There’s a trap door.”
She followed his gaze to the middle of the warehouse. There in the center of the floor, as he’d said, was a metal door. “Well, he did say to look around, didn’t he?”
“I didn't see Grainger anywhere, did you?” They strode across the aisle, coming to a stop in front of the below-ground entrance.
“No. Didn’t see Lyle either.” She frowned. “Do you think they’ve been loaded it up already?”
“Could be.” Abraham crouched. “Let’s see what’s down here.”
Worry filled her. What if they weren’t supposed to go wherever the door lead them? People say to do stuff all the ti
me, didn’t mean they were telling the truth. However, a niggle of awareness filled her and, as if being pulled by some unseen force, she followed the stairs underground. The smell of fresh, damp dirt assailed her. It masked the scent of blood and iron. Her tiger sat up. The fine hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end.
“Do you feel it too,” Abraham whispered.
“Yes.”
Abraham clicked on the small flashlight he carried, illuminating the dank dirt basement. Chains littered the area along with six by eight beams attached to the low hanging ceiling. This must be where they keep feral creatures or something... The ‘or something,’ made her shiver. As they stepped deeper into the area, the light caught two figures only a few feet apart. Grainger. She rushed to his side. His eyes were closed. His breath was so shallow, she worried he’d die. She patted his cheek, willing him to open his eyes and when he didn’t, she bit her wrist. Fallon placed her wrist to his mouth, encouraging him to drink.
When he finally latched on a surge of relief filled her. His eyes flashed open and she could see how close he’d been to death. He moaned taking a bit more before he closed the wound and sat back. His movements were a bit sluggish, but it was expected after going so long without feeding.
“Why are you down here?” Fallon peered at the iron cuffs covering his wrists and hissed. The skin was torn and blistered, an allergic reaction no doubt.
“Guess they were worried about the sun or us getting away.” Grainger groaned, trying to sit up more.
“Mr. Nemescu?” Abraham muttered. “What are you doing here?”
The man groaned. “Abraham, my boy. How are you?”
“Is this some kind of freaky family reunion?” Fallon hedged.
“Something like that,” Mr. Nemescu muttered.
“We can’t stay long,” Abraham reminded her.
“Let’s get photos.” They had to show Kalkin and the others where Grainger was being kept along with the containers being readied for transport.
“Do you have someone you’d like us to call for you?” Abraham asked.
The man waved him off. “It doesn’t matter now. The truth is out and those I can trust are slim and few.”
“I’ll tell Natasha,” Abraham replied.
“No. Don't.” The man sat up, strength returning to his features. “No one can know you found me. It is of the utmost importance this information stays with us.”
“We have to tell Kalkin,” Fallon stated. “If he finds out we knew you were down here and didn’t tell him it’s our asses on the line.”
Mr. Nemescu muttered a curse. “Fine, tell him. But, him alone. No one else. There is something afoot in the Nemescu family. The only way to figure it out is to keep up pretenses.”
Abraham nodded. “We understand.”
“The next time we see you, it’ll be at the auction. Tomorrow. Stay alive.” Fallon pressed her lips to Grainger who still appeared too weak for her liking.
“Don’t worry about us,” Grainger whispered. “We’ll be fine.”
She doubted his sentiments. “Sure you will.”
The chatter of workers along with the beeping of forklifts backing up filled the space as Fallon peered up into the warehouse from the staircase below. With all the activity, no one was paying attention to the hole in the floor where they’d been. She slipped out then waited for Abraham to join her. After making sure for the third time they were in the clear, she started taking photographs of their surroundings.
She didn't want to stay too long. Even though she hadn't found Lyle yet, it didn't mean they weren't somewhere in the warehouse or hadn't been transferred to where the auction would take place. Like the night before, they took the same path out of the area, bypassing all of the guards so as not to raise any suspicions. When they arrived at the clearing, Abraham unlocked their vehicle and got in. They were almost done with this, yet they were also so far away. They’d gone into the mission thinking they’d only have to worry about one person, now they had four, not counting Grainger to get out of there.
Her mind churned as they sped back to the hotel. Abraham took the long way once again, in case someone followed. After he pulled into the parking garage and found a spot in a darkened corner, he pounced on Fallon. His mouth slammed down onto hers. His breath came in ragged puffs of air as he forced her lips to part. Her heart was lodged in her throat as she gripped his shoulders for purchase. He could be insatiable when Warren tempered the space with his pheromones, but this was different. Abraham was hungry. Not for blood, but for sex. No... She couldn’t place her finger on what was wrong, other than he made her skin too hot and her sex too wet.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t understand.”
Neither did she. “What happened?”
He grabbed his crotch and groaned. “Not sure. But, I feel like I could nut for no reason.”
“We should get up to the room.” Fallon’s breath came in soft pants. Her heart pounded causing her to become lightheaded.
“Can’t move yet,” Abraham whispered. “If I do, I’m going to cream my jeans.”
Tingles of pleasure slid through her veins, like carbonation bubbles on her tongue. She couldn't explain any of it, or why she'd felt so out of control. She thought of bringing Suān ní forward but worried if she did, he too would be in the same boat as her. “What are you going to do?” Fallon licked her bottom lip and a current of bliss streaked across the plump flesh.
“Rub one out. Give me a second.” He shuddered as he lowered the zipper of his pants then hissed when he touched himself. “That shouldn’t be possible.” He stared at his hand covered in translucent fluid. “No one comes that fast. I barely touched myself.”
On a typical day, she'd agree with him, however with the way her pussy throbbed and as sensitive as her skin had become, she shook her head. “Something is wrong with us.”
“I-I think you’re right.” Abraham turned in his seat. His cock stood proudly from the opening of his jeans. “I’m rock hard and ready to go again. Only Warren can do this to me.” His erection throbbed to the beat of his heart while beads of precum poured from his tip.
Fallon whimpered. “Abraham.” She trembled. “I’m scared.”
“Me too.” He stared at her for a moment more before grabbing her up into his arms. “In the back.”
He maneuvered them until they were on the backseat. Fallon removed her pants without a second thought and clawed at Abraham’s back when he filled her in a single stroke. They shook in each other’s arms, climaxing through penetration. Though she felt marginally better, Abraham began to rock against her muttering incoherent curses and growls. His thrusts were powerful, enough to push her backward on the seat. He acted like a shifter in rut and it didn’t make sense to her, yet the more she thought about it, the more her thoughts drifted away and all she could concentrate on was where their bodies were connected.
Fallon clung to him riding out the sensations bombarding her body until everything had been pulled taut inside her. With a final shift of his hips, they both climaxed again. This has to be some kind of record. Abraham stared down at her. His eyes were a bit too wild and his skin was too sweaty for her liking. Vampires weren’t like humans. For him to be covered in a sheen of perspiration, something had to be wrong.
“Abraham?” She cupped his cheek bringing his face down to hers. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “No.” He stared down at her. “I want you again.”
“We need to get you to Warren. Maybe he can figure it out.”
Suān ní’s shadow unraveled from her arm and appeared beside them. “I’ll go get Warren.”
Fallon arched to Abraham as he began to move. “Please.” She didn’t know who she begged, other than her pussy was slick and achy and her nipples were hard points. Her skin felt too tight as though her tiger pressed against it, wanting out. The stirring of her animal scared her. The tiger had been mostly content to stay within her. Was the beasty at her limits? Did it have something to do with
whatever was wrong with Abraham and by proxy her?
Abraham snarled, gnashing his teeth as he shoved deep and released within her again. “Fuck, Fallon.” He stumbled backward into Warren’s arms.
The slick glide of cum leaked from her, coating her rear and the tops of her thighs. “Warren.”
“I’ve got you—both of you. Ghost?”
Fallon glanced up and found the man with gunmetal grey eyes averting his gaze. His features were pulled in a grim fashion. He looked less than pleased to be there, and she couldn’t blame him.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Ghost turned to Suān ní. “I need you to check her for patches or puncture marks. Anything innocuous. If you find anything,” he held up a vial and sample kit, “get her blood.”
Suān ní nodded. “I will.” He held out his hand to her before gathering her in his arms. “Come, mistress. It is time.”
She shook her head, not understanding what he meant. “Time for what?”
“You to experience your first rut.”
Chapter 12
She shook her head, trying to clear some of the haze. Had she heard Suān ní correctly? Rut? Heat? Fallon frowned. Gross. My cycle doesn’t start now. She tried to push away from him, but came up against his muscular chest, as he held onto her for dear life. What the heck? She inhaled. The smell of lion tinged with arousal filled her and she buried her nose in the crook of his neck.
“Mmm, you smell good.” She licked his skin. “Taste even better.”
“Mistress. A bit farther then you can have your way with me.”
She giggled. She didn’t giggle. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Heat, Fú zé.”
“No. Gross. It's not time.” Yet her skin had been sensitized. She tingled from head to toe, and, though Abraham had given her three amazing orgasms, there was still a coil of need building within her. Could she be in heat? No. It doesn’t make sense.
A door closed behind them and she tried to pry her eyes open, but it was as though she were blind. All she wanted was to hold onto Suān ní. To take care of the insatiable need coursing through her veins. She pawed at him, pulling his shirt from his torso, exposing his flesh to her excited, yet hazy gaze.
