by Lana Sky
Chain Me
The Ellie Gray Chronicles Book 2
Lana Sky
Also by Lana Sky
The Ellie Gray Chronicles
Drain Me
Chain Me
Beautiful Monsters
Crescendo
Refrain
Mezzo
Allegro
XXX
Maxim: Submit
Maxim: Obey
Maxim: Surrender
Savage Fall Duet
King’s Men
King’s Horses
The War of Roses
XV: (Fifteen)
VII: (Seven)
I: (One)
Painted Sin
A Touch of Dark
A Taste like Sin
Standalones
Pretty Perfect
Crossed Lines
Moth
Dragonfly
Moth
Rockstar Rebels
Dirty Lyrics
Chain Me
Chain Me By Lana Sky
Copyright © 2019 by Lana Sky
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
Edited by Mickey Reed
Proofread by Charity Chimni
Formatting by Charity Chimni
To my very patient fans. Thank you so much for believing in this story and allowing me the time to write it.
"And at all at once, I was consumed; a darkness borne of blood and torment, laid bare at the feet of the Storm."
—A.R. Simone
Contents
1. D.H
2. Silence
3. Fortune Favors the Gray
4. A Bed of Rosary
5. Diagnosis
6. Addenda
7. On the Brink
8. Memento Mori
9. Serpentine
10. Amusement
11. Turbulence
12. Cold
13. Vicci D’arte
14. In the Gray
15. A Small Favor
16. Bloody Hell
17. Where the Lonely Roam
18. Master and Protector
19. Quiet
20. The Serpent’s Nest
21. Contaminated
22. Lost
23. Tokens
24. Deception
25. She who Dares to Question…
26. A Company of Witches
27. Childish Games
28. Old Friends
29. A Dangerous Game
30. Life or Death?
Epilogue
A Word from the Author
About the Author
Also by Lana Sky
D.H
I may have been the heir to one of the richest families in the country, but alas, our vast fortune couldn’t buy me everything.
Love was beyond the reach of my checkbook—though affection had never been synonymous with the Gray name anyway. Sanity was another elusive trophy, and the past year had served as a biting testament to how little I had left.
But my millions couldn’t procure answers. Especially the ones pertaining to the brooding vampire who had destroyed my life on a whim and then disappeared.
What else did a bored heiress with too much time and money on her hands have to do with her days besides track him down?
Nothing—apart from blatantly lying to the doctor standing in my way, of course.
“Do you think you can help me?” I meekly asked the woman seated across from me. A polished oak desk separated us, the most eye-catching fixture of her rather plain office.
“Good news! I don’t think you’re dying, Eleanor,” Dr. Goodfellow declared. A severe bun kept the graying brown hair back from her round face, enhancing her stern “trust me” expression. If I squinted, her concern almost seemed genuine. “However, I’m glad you dropped by, because I do have some mild concerns. I think another round of tests would help to put us both at ease.”
“More tests? Are you sure? I think I’m feeling a lot better, actually—” A cough ripped from my throat, and I attempted to smother it within the sleeve of my sweater. “I feel fine.”
“Th-That may be so, dear,” Goodfellow stammered. Her gaze settled over my chest, her blue eyes suspiciously narrowed. “But I’m concerned. Your lab results have been…puzzling, to say the least. For instance, your hormone levels seem to be spiking, but since you wrote”—she shuffled a stack of documents before her and scanned the topmost page—“never in answer to could you currently be pregnant?, well… I must admit that I’m flummoxed. I’ve even consulted some outside experts for insight. I wish I could get my hands on your old records, but it seems there was a mishap because your file for last year appears to be incomplete...”
She paused as if waiting for me to clarify. Where oh where could a year of my medical history have gone? I knew the answer of course. Into a vampire’s coat pocket.
It wasn’t an explanation Goodfellow could comprehend, however. When I said nothing, she cleared her throat. “Well, it’s only been a month since you were last cleared by your last provider, Dr. Wallis, hasn’t it?”
I shrugged. The last time I’d seen Dr. Wallis had been a mere month after the vampire pulling his puppet strings disappeared. He had eyed me the way one might a ghost before promptly refunding my health insurance for every penny spent on the treatment for my supposed illness.
Then he too vanished.
“Is he still in Tahiti?” I wondered, parroting the reason his office secretary gave for his absence.
“Tahiti?” Dr. Goodfellow blinked and adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m not sure, dear. But you can rest assured that, even with the gaps in your history, I can address your concerns—”
“I’m fine.” I even flashed a charming grin for emphasis. “I don’t think more tests are necessary.”
“Oh? Over the phone, you said you’ve been feeling poorly for weeks. Isn’t that why you made the appointment? Frankly, I wish you had been more specific, and I would have booked you an emergency consult.” She wrinkled her delicate nose in distaste. “That sort of cough is no minor symptom, my dear—”
“It’s nothing.” I shrugged as my fingers toyed with the silver cross hanging from my throat. Little did the good doctor know that, as long as I wore it, I supposedly was the picture of health. Or so a deceitful vampire claimed. Batting the talisman aside, I tried to look as un-sickly as possible. Another unforced cough didn’t help much in that regard. “Do you have a diagnosis yet?”
“It could be fatigue,” she said. “But your case has puzzled me. Your symptoms don’t seem to fit into any logical diagnostic criteria—”
“So you’re saying I’m fatigued?” I sighed to hide my skepticism. Compared to my last life-shattering diagnosis, what a boring ailment.
Thankfully, Goodfellow was right; my health wasn’t the real reason for this visit anyway.
“This is quite the premier establishment,” I blurted out, eyeing the diploma framed in gold, hanging on the white wall behind her head. “I’m sure you have people of high esteem on the board?”
I knew firsthand that it did. Stationed right in the heart of downtown, St. Mary’s was one of the leading medic
al facilities in the country, prestigious enough to attract backing from a variety of benefactors.
The undead kind in search of a power trip, for instance. The kind of man who liked to disappear without so much as a word or a “Thanks for your virginity, Eleanor. Oh, and your blood, too. Have a nice life!”
Such a creature would relish the influence this hospital could provide—it was the perfect place to hide in plain sight.
“Ms. Gray?” Dr. Goodfellow had an eyebrow raised, her tone delicate in that annoying way when someone tended to stare off into space for uncomfortable periods of time. A tone I had grown accustomed to.
“R-Right.” I snapped out of my daze and cleared my throat. “As you well know, my family has a long history of providing donations to hospitals and charities alike. I would love to do my part to contribute, by any means necessary. Perhaps I could be introduced to the board?”
“Of course!” Dr. Goodfellow couldn’t even disguise the greedy twitch of her lips. Suddenly, all concern for my welfare vanished. “We welcome any form of donation. I would be happy to connect you to our Community Outreach Department—”
“Actually, I’ve already done my research. Here.” I fished a brochure from my purse. Its dog-eared pages betrayed how many times I’d peered through them in anticipation of this meeting. One in particular sported a tear right down the middle, suspiciously close to a mysterious name.
“I found a roster of your most recent benefactors, and I’d love to ask them some further questions before I invest. I’m familiar with most, but this person…” I pointed a trembling finger to one entry in particular. Initials, really.
Squinting, Dr. Goodfellow read them out loud. “D.H.?” She seemed oblivious to the shudder that racked my spine. I had to clench my hands into fists to keep them from shaking, crumpling the brochure further. “I’m not familiar with that person, to be honest, Eleanor. But we really should discuss your treatment options. I’ll be blunter: Going off your recent results, I found some of your labs a tad alarming. We should schedule an immediate follow-up.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Another cough rattled from my chest as I pushed the brochure into my purse. Disappointment was surprisingly hard to swallow down.
My gagging prompted Dr. Goodfellow to shove a napkin into my hands. This time, my coughing fit succeeded in bringing up liquid, which I spit into a nearby wastebasket. Snot, perhaps.
Red, vibrant snot.
“Eleanor…” The doctor’s gaze was fixated on whatever substance clung to the tissue. “I really do think we should run a few more tests—”
“So, you don’t know that name?” I pressed, impatiently wringing my hands. “What a shame. I thought he might provide a unique perspective on the establishment.”
“He?” Goodfellow cocked her head. “Do you know this person? I was under the impression that you didn’t.”
“Um…” I blinked and coughed again. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You said he might provide a unique perspective—”
“Did I? Um, anyway, as you were saying… My symptoms. Are you sure you’ll be able to find a diagnosis soon?”
“Of course.” She nodded emphatically. “As you yourself mentioned, we are a state-of-the-art facility, Ms. Gray. You can rest easy under our care. I’m glad that you came in when you did.”
For all the good it had done. The poor woman didn’t even have enough sense to transfer my case to a psychiatrist. Or perhaps a priest would have been more fitting in this instance?
Someone used to dealing with the damned and hopeless.
Still, I attempted to return her smile with a thin grin of my own. “Let’s hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Oh, let’s not jump to the worst just yet. However…” She snatched up my hand without warning, lifting it to display the quivering fingertips. “This tremor. It’s more pronounced than when you first entered my office, and I see from your preliminaries that you’ve lost more weight. That cough is concerning as well, considering the color the sputum—”
“Color?” I echoed innocently.
“It looked like blood, Eleanor.” Her gentle smile slipped, revealing something far more unnerving underneath. Alarm. “I’m beginning to think that Dr. Wallis may have been a bit hasty in clearing you so soon. It’s only been a month since your diagnosis was reversed, after all. I would like to order another blood test—”
“More?” I eyed my forearm where the sleeve of my sweater was rolled up to reveal a bandage—my souvenir from the last round of tests done earlier that morning. “I feel fine, honestly. I would hate to waste your time.” I gingerly untangled my hand from hers and started to rise from the leather armchair facing her desk. “Thank you.”
“Of course, my dear. We can use your sample from this morning for the new tests. I’ll make sure to call you with the results.” She folded her hands together. “Now, you should go home and get some rest. I’m sure we’ll have an answer for you by the end of the week. In the meantime, keep your chin up.”
Her smile widened.
But I merely stooped for my bag and scrambled from her office before she could suggest another battery of tests to suffer through.
My disappointment loomed, inescapable. Even the sky visible beyond the windows of the corridor seemed to reflect it: dark, churning clouds and a smattering of raindrops.
What a fuss for nothing. Though the poking and prodding should have been a small price to pay if my hunch turned out to be correct. Small, I insisted as my hands shook over the handle of my bag. Though Goodfellow didn’t need to try so hard to feign concern. Apart from my brain, nothing else was wrong with me.
Physically, at least.
For the first time in years, I theoretically had a clean bill of health.
No life-threatening illness to worry about.
No vampire lurking in the corridor to smuggle me his magic blood.
No crippling, fearful uncertainty, no siree…
I was fine.
“Are you all right, hun?” someone asked as I made my way to the nearest elevator. A woman, her gaze on my shaking fingertips. A tiny figure clung to her hip, clutching a ratty doll that had seen better days. Paces away a man eyed a wristwatch and sighed impatiently, but as his gaze shifted to the woman before me, all traces of impatience faded from his expression.
“Do you need to sit down?” the woman asked.
For someone so nosy, she should have been older. A gnarled biddy with nothing better to do than butt her nose into other’s affairs. But she was young—my age, if I wanted to be generous. A healthy woman who didn’t sport blood dripping down her chin and wasn’t trembling on her feet. Someone who possessed a family, and security, and all of those pesky things my money couldn’t afford.
Someone who seemed conjured by the universe as if to spite me with an eternal truth: you’re alone, Eleanor. You’re probably dying, Eleanor. Stop pining over him, Eleanor.
“I’m fine,” I replied with a smile, though the small family didn’t seem convinced. The child stuck her head out from around her mother to gape at me, her tiny eyebrow raised.
Who cared? I was past letting strangers comment on my health.
Once I had made it to the front of the hospital and climbed into the back seat of my family’s Rolls-Royce, I closed my eyes—only to be thwarted again in my quest for peace.
“How did it go, miss?” my driver inquired.
I peeled one eye open, observing him with a frown. He was a new hire who had come highly recommended. To most, he probably ticked all of the right boxes—overly friendly, sufficiently charming. He was even pretty for a man, with dark, curly hair and eyes the color of chocolate.
I only slightly hated him—he wasn’t Harper, my long-time confidant and friend. But Harper was probably dead, so this man would have to do.
“It went fine,” I replied, closing my eyes again. “I’d like to rest, if that’s all right.”
As requested, the rest of the journey to the house pass
ed in silence, broken only by the crunch of gravel as the vehicle turned onto the driveway. I startled to awareness, taking in the desolate landscape awaiting me beyond the window with a strange sense of guilt.
I had some damn nerve peddling my money and my resources to hospitals rather than spending it on the only thing my parents had ever deemed important: our supposed legacy. After months of neglect, Gray Manor had certainly seen better days. The house itself loomed above acres of untouched fields and overgrown weeds, as imposing as ever.
Spring had blossomed over the rest of the city, but my familiar home was a landscape clinging to winter. Perhaps it hadn’t been a prudent decision to fire most of the gardening staff on a whim?
Make that all of the gardening staff.
At least the lack of salaries kept the family fortune intact; Mother would certainly thank me for that.
“Have a nice day, miss,” the driver encouraged as I slipped from the car.
Even though he’d been under my employ for nearly a month, I had yet to learn his name—though it didn’t matter.
I would fire him eventually. Once I got over my fear of driving, that is. I’d fired everyone else.
There was no butler to greet me as I hastened up the front walkway and mounted the topmost step of the front stoop. I had to fish a key from the depths of my handbag and fit it into the lock myself—a fact that would have scandalized my poor parents. To get the solid oak door to budge, I had to basically throw myself against it.
