Chain Me (The Ellie Gray Chronicles Book 2)

by Lana Sky

  I couldn’t resist the fire hissing to life within me, feeding on the motions of his fingers. Rough. Cruel. Relentless.

  At the back of my mind, I knew I was hallucinating. This wasn’t happening.

  Dublin Helos wasn’t groaning as he urged my legs farther apart, eyeing me the way Lanic had ogled my checkbook. Like I was millions for the taking, his alone to claim.

  “I should have killed you,” he whispered. One of his hands still raked through his hair, destroying his suave poise. Gone was the calm, collected contractor. In his place was a creature more beast than man. “I should want to kill you,” he added, flicking his gaze up to mine. “The trouble you’ve caused me. The years. The chaos. The sacrifice. I swore to myself I’d never believe him, not for a goddamn second. But you…”

  “I what?” I tensed. Was he finally referring to his contract?

  “You persist. Weeks spent trying to prove that you were nothing.” He chuckled at the absurdity of it, prowling forward, bracing his hands on my knees. “And I return to find you on my doorstep, ready for more.” He shoved my dress over my hips and something rare splintered his anger, tugging on the corner of his mouth as he swept his gaze over me.

  My legs twitched, ached to clamp together. Hide from him. As if sensing the thought, he traced a path down my inner thigh, observing every twitch of my spine.

  “There is something wrong with you,” he grated. “Something broken. It’s like you truly are cursed. Corrupt. Like he planned you for me after all. He made you for me.”

  “Who?” My mind reeled. He was talking too fast. Hatred for him was becoming harder and harder to hold on to. And, God, I needed it. My fingers grasped the sheets as if I could find the emotion among them. “Raphael?”

  “Why should I fight it?” he demanded, stroking his thumb up over my belly. My heaving breast. My throat. I trembled with every inch gained; drawn nails added a predatory fervor to each, pointed caress. “You are tailor-made to resist me every step of the way, aren’t you?”

  He lowered his head. A brush of ice against the flesh of my throat was my only warning before…pain. His teeth, I realized belatedly as his jaw nudged mine, urging me to arch, exposing more.

  “You are mine, Eleanor Gray,” he declared. “Body and soul.”

  Then…

  He bit.

  And everything went red.

  Vibrant, beautiful scarlet rich enough to erase the gray my life had become.

  I was too far gone to even care that I was drowning in blood.

  Diagnosis

  A symphony of beeping machinery lured me into consciousness. Just from the way my nostrils twitched, I knew where I was before my eyes even opened.

  A hospital.

  Over the past year, I’d been in enough of them to envision the layout of this room entirely from assumption. A spacious one, judging from the echo. Private, most likely.

  I wasn’t alone, either—that had to be a first. Someone nearby was speaking in a hushed voice. My doctor?

  Or perhaps devil would be a more fitting term.

  “I didn’t know who else to call,” the man said, his voice easily placed. Dublin. My eyes were too heavy to open, but I could picture him paces away, scowling to match the gruffness of his baritone. “She trusts you, at least. Perhaps you can discover who the…cause of this may be.”

  “Cause? I should have never let you order me to stay away from her,” a woman replied, her lilting accent distinct.

  I knew her as well. My brain struggled to recall a name, but forming a solid thought at all felt like grasping at tendrils of smoke. All I could do was listen.

  “Though it seems you haven’t kept to that stupid ‘bargain,’ either,” she said accusingly. “I thought you weren’t planning on returning for at least a few years—”

  “There was a complication,” Dublin interjected. “A minor one. Once it is resolved, I don’t plan on staying long.”

  “You mean a complication concerning Eleanor,” the woman surmised. “I thought you might have been watching her—and you have, haven’t you?”

  “Only enough to know that she consulted a doctor who began contacting outside experts regarding her case. I decided to intervene before the chatter could catch Raphael’s attention.”

  “Something you could order any one of your associates to do,” the woman pointed out. “You could have asked me as well. Though, I should have visited her anyway, with or without your permission. Maybe I could have prevented her from… To be honest, I thought you were joking at first. I mean, Eleanor isn’t exactly the type of woman one would expect to wind up in this condition.”

  “Are you implying that I’m incompetent? I ran the tests more than once,” Dublin snapped. “I had them corroborated with several other professionals—”

  “Leaving out one obvious reason why this doesn’t make any sense, I am sure. Unless… You don’t really think she’s been with someone else since you’ve—”

  “Are you insinuating another possibility?” Dublin wondered, and a part of me chafed at the grit in his voice. He sounded too calm—and in my experience, that was when he had the most potential for cruelty. “Don’t be naïve, Yulia. There is only one logical conclusion.”

  “Dublin, I was only—”

  “And don’t insult my intelligence by pretending that you don’t know the rumors spreading concerning her, either. Concerning my interest in her. That I lust after the weak little mortal like a wolf would a lamb. Is that what you think as well? I know Raphael in particular rather enjoys that theory—”

  “Of course not!”

  “My interest in Eleanor Gray extends purely to her bloodline,” Dublin insisted. “Raphael attacked her for a reason. Her body reacted to him so violently for a reason. I intend to discover why before he can use whatever information he knows against me. Nothing more.”

  “Fine,” Yulia conceded. “So, did you find what you were looking for?”

  “The question isn’t whether I did,” Dublin snapped. “It’s whether or not I believe the superstitious drivel in the first place. Don’t tell me you do? Is that the real reason you fought so hard to make me notice Eleanor in the first place? Not that it matters. It seems she hasn’t lacked for male company.”

  “Dublin, I’m on your side,” Yulia insisted. “I’m simply trying to understand. This isn’t like you. Since when have you cared about what Raphael might think? And how would I know anything about the ‘rumors’ when you barely even talk about your past—”

  “And I’m not willing to start now,” Dublin growled. “Once I finish cleaning up this mess, I will leave. Tonight.”

  “On another wild goose chase?”

  “No,” he replied, but his tone had hardened. “I intend to take a more direct route, this time. Even if it means going to a monster we both despise...”

  “Ah, so that’s why you really asked me here?” Yulia’s tone turned cutting. Hostile. “You don’t give a damn about Eleanor now that she’s moved on. You only want my permission to talk to him. The very monster you saved me from.”

  A deliberate pause left her statement hanging in the air. Finally, Dublin admitted, “Your permission? No. Your understanding? Yes. You and I both know that Dmitri possesses more knowledge in his twisted skull than anyone.”

  “Yes,” the woman agreed. “Knowledge that he would barter for your soul—or, worse. Whatever answers he could give you wouldn’t be worth the price you’d have to pay, trust me on that—”

  “It’s not merely answers I’m after.”

  Some internal part of me squirmed, alarmed by the emotion bared in his words. Concern? Or fear.

  “You claim to be concerned for Eleanor? Well, the necklace should have preserved her life, but it hasn’t. I could smell the sickness in her. If her health remains in such a perilous state, this could kill her. By merely attempting to feed from her, I almost did.”

  “I know,” the woman whispered. “But you weren’t yourself. We both know how hunger can affect you.
I should have talked you out of ever giving up that stupid amulet in the first place—”

  “So, she could die sooner?” Dublin countered.

  “No, of course not! Although—”

  “Although, if you had, we wouldn’t be in this dilemma.” Dublin paused before continuing. “Don’t look at me like that, Yulia, I know what you’re thinking. We both know it to be true.” An air of regret laced his words and it twisted my insides like a knife. “Alive or dead, Eleanor Gray seems destined to thwart all logic where safety is concerned.”

  “That’s not what I mean! Look, I won’t pretend like I have any other options, but anyone is better than that son of a bitch. Just wait a few more days and I’ll try to find something myself. Even Saskia might—”

  “Or Raphael?”

  “No!” The woman choked out a tortured laugh. “I…I suppose going to him would be even worse than Dmitri. But just listen to me. If you can hold off for a few days, I will help you in any way I can, but I can’t… If you do decide to seek out Dmitri, then please don’t count on me to accompany you. Give me a week. I’m sure we can find the answers on our own. Please.”

  “…A week,” Dublin conceded after a moment’s silence.

  “Good,” Yulia agreed. “And as far as Eleanor is concerned, I’ll do what I can to help her. Let me know when she wakes up, and I’ll bring some things for her. God, I can’t imagine how scared she must be—”

  “I’m not sure if she even knows.” Dublin sounded cold again. My tired brain tried desperately to piece together what he referred to. Something concerning me…

  Something awful.

  “W-What?” Yulia exclaimed. Seconds passed before she regained her composure enough to ask, “And, if she doesn’t you will tell her gently, won’t you? Without making her feel any worse? I mean, it—”

  “I found her with someone last night. Perhaps I interrupted a congratulatory dinner?” A laugh undercut Dublin’s chilling baritone. “I think we have both learned by now that Eleanor Gray deserves anything but pity.”

  “Don’t be like that. You’ve hurt her once—you and I both know it. I doubt even someone of your fortitude has the willpower to do it twice. Especially about this. Just tread carefully.”

  A weighty silence didn’t reveal his answer either way.

  Finally, Yulia sighed. “I’m just asking you to think this through. Your decisions may have far greater consequences than even you could bear. Now, I need to get back to the club. That bitch Saskia will get suspicious if I stay away for too long. As far as your concerns go, give us a week to find our own answers before you go off again. A week. Promise me…”

  I must have drifted in and out of consciousness, because when I finally blinked my eyes open, a figure loomed near the end of my bed, emanating a chill that resonated in my bones.

  “Don’t move,” he warned.

  One flex of my limbs and I understood why. Pain flooded my system, drawing a gasp from my lips. “Jesus Christ.” I exhaled a shaky breath as the world gradually came into focus. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

  “You’re still healing,” the speaker continued, his face a blobby blur. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. In your condition, you’re lucky to not have suffered a worse fate.”

  Still healing? I turned, driven by an instinctive dread. And for good reason—more blinking brought an object lurking just beyond me into clearer focus. A long metal pole. Dangling from the very top was a bag of red fluid.

  “A blood transfusion?” I deduced, horrified.

  “Four pints lost,” Dublin declared, stepping closer. The waning daylight was just enough for me to make out his expression—surly eyes and stiffened lips.

  Dread unfurled in my belly. I knew that look. He was in a brooding mood.

  “Count your blessings that you’re even able to move.”

  “Get. It…” I had to suck in air to form each word. My fingers twitched on command but lacked the strength to rip out the IV. “Out. Get it out of me—”

  “Do you understand what I just said? You hemorrhaged. You’re weak.” He wasn’t using his clinical, doctorly voice anymore. “You’ve been out for nearly two days. There are corpses that portray more vitality than you.”

  And if I didn’t know any better, I might suspect the devil was…exhausted?

  His face revealed nothing discernible. As stoic as ever, he stood near a wide bay window overlooking an unfamiliar view of the city. From the bed, I caught snippets of the landscape beyond him: skyscrapers, bright lights. It was an area far from the reclusive hillside domain of Gray Manor—that was for sure.

  And far from his cathedral where my last, hazy memories centered upon.

  Mainly one image that chilled me to the bone.

  “I bled,” I whispered, hating how hoarse my voice sounded, “because you bit me.”

  “I did,” he admitted, training his gaze on the view. “I shouldn’t have fed from you, but the venom merely exacerbated your underlying condition. It didn’t cause it—”

  “Condition? Oh, don’t tell me.” I shifted to observe him fully. “You figured out my mysterious illness? What is it this time? Another blood disease?”

  Despite my bravado, my voice broke. The world was spinning around me. Oddly enough, he was the stubborn anchor, as unmoving and rigid as the day we’d met. One of his hands fiddled with something hanging from his throat—shining, small, silver…

  No, it couldn’t be. I felt along my own neck, finding it bare—but too many thoughts battled for attention to care.

  The man was an Indian Giver. So what?

  So what if some of my last memories were of him scolding me as to the importance of that very necklace?

  So what.

  “Congratulations.” I forced my hands together in a pathetic imitation of applause though it took nearly all of my strength. One pathetic clap was all I could accomplish. “What will I have to sell to you this time in exchange for the cure?”

  “Cure?” he wondered in a dangerously soft tone. His shoulders were so rigid that I bit my lip. Odd. He should have been gloating. Not tense, his head bowed in contemplation. “If you want to take that route, then I need to ask you something,” he warned.

  “Why?” I tried to shrug off his caution. “Are you pretending to be my doctor again? I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I have a new doctor. A real one, who isn’t inclined to drink blood in her spare time.”

  “You don’t have any idea, do you?” He looked up, and nothing could prepare me for the ice in his expression. Dublin wasn’t just brooding—it was so much worse.

  He was furious.

  “J-Just…” I stammered, wringing my fingers until a coherent reply finally formed on my tongue. “Just tell me, oh wise one. What’s wrong with me now?”

  His gaze cut away from me as he started to pace. “I don’t know how else to ask this other than bluntly. Who have you been with, excluding me?”

  Been with…

  Fire heated my cheeks. His tone said it all. How big of a harlot are you Eleanor, now that your virginity is a moot point?

  Needles of shame stabbed through my chest though I bit my lip to disguise my reaction. The only way to counter him was with a forced smile and more faked bravado.

  “Other than you?” I coyly raised my hand and ticked each finger off one by one. “Why, Gabriel Lanic. My driver. My maids, before I fired them. My gardener. My security guards—”

  “Enough!”

  Shock rendered me senseless, and memories that shouldn’t have been there popped into my head. Him, on top of me, his hands beneath my dress. More recently, him delivering a tortured observation in a callous whisper. There is something wrong with you…

  I swallowed hard. This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t on my figurative deathbed while a vampire taunted me about intercourse.

  “Leave me alone—”

  “Answer the question,” he snarled in a tone so hard I jumped.

  “No one,” I managed to rasp.<
br />
  Rather than sneer at the admission, he…frowned. “Your modesty means nothing at this point, so I’d prefer if you didn’t lie. Just give me a name.”

  “No. One,” I insisted, clearly enough for him to absorb every single word. My cheeks were aflame, and I had to resist the urge to cackle hysterically. This was some mind game on his part, of course. Accuse me of being a moral-less harlot, right before coming in for the kill: I’d already given him my virginity, why not give him his precious contract as well?

  “If there is a point to this,” I added harshly, “then I suggest you get to it.”

  His brow furrowed and then his expression went blank. It was as if someone had flicked a switch, cutting off all emotion the bastard might deign to feel. Even rage. “I’ve arranged for you to see a doctor.”

  Something in his tone made me huddle beneath my blankets before I realized.

  “What doctor?”

  He had already turned on his heel and stormed from the room. Seconds later, a woman appeared in his wake. Slim and tall, her modest features and stern, wire glasses projected a knowledgeable aura even someone like Dublin Helos would defer to.

  “Hello Eleanor,” she said softly. “I’m Dr. Martin.”

  Minutes into a brief assessment, I had to admit that she seemed capable enough. She asked pertinent questions and thankfully wasn’t as cheerful as Dr. Goodfellow. Hell, I almost felt as insignificant as a lab rat by the time she finished drawing vials of blood and left the room. But then, minutes later, she returned, lugging a sleek, square-shaped machine behind her.

  “Ms. Gray,” she began in a crisp, efficient tone, “I would like to get an abdominal ultrasound, if that is alright with you.”

  “An ultrasound?” It was a terrifying term, especially when paired with the high-tech machinery she expertly began to program. “W-why?” I asked, even as a part of me suspected what the answer may be.