Chain Me (The Ellie Gray Chronicles Book 2)

by Lana Sky

  “Damn! Are you all right?” A face appeared before me—tanned and handsome, balanced among a cloud of dark, curly hair. “Ms. Gray? Can you hear me?” Concern constricted his features as he flickered in and out of focus. So real one second. A ghost the next.

  Until the world vanished altogether.

  And I was alone.

  Serpentine

  “Ms. Gray? Can you hear me?”

  I groaned, blinking my eyes open to a shadowy space lit only by a circle of orange light cast by a bulb hanging from a grayish ceiling. Damp, dank air alluded to an enclosed space with little ventilation. Somewhere underground? The crypt?

  “Please, say something.”

  I stiffened as my gaze settled upon the figure crouched beside me, his face half bathed in shadow.

  “Thank God! You’re awake,” he breathed as our gazes connected. “How do you feel—”

  “Where am I?” Panic shook my voice, but I was beyond feigning bravery.

  As I struggled to regain my bearings, my gaze darted around the room. It was small, formed of water-stained walls that resembled concrete. A floor composed of the same material sported a rusted drain a few feet away from me. Otherwise, there was nothing else in sight but a wooden door in a far corner.

  “Safe,” François said. “Try not to move. You hit your head pretty hard.”

  My head. I attempted to lift it to no avail. My entire body felt heavy, weighted down as if by stones. It took three tries before I could move my arm more than a fraction. When I finally brought a trembling finger to my forehead, warm liquid coated the tip.

  “You’re bleeding,” François admitted, grimacing. “A little pressure and it will stop in no time though.” His wide-eyed expression contradicted the confident tone. He was a good liar as well as an expert driver, it seemed.

  But hemorrhaging to death was the least of my problems.

  Dublin was going to kill me anyway—if he weren’t already resigned to my death. Stone walls and distance weren’t enough to slow him down. This long without his sudden intrusion could only mean one thing.

  What if he wasn’t coming at all?

  “Please don’t move!” François reached for my arm as I tried again to sit upright.

  I cringed from him, able to control my limbs with more accuracy. “Stay away!”

  But he was the least dangerous of threats to my life.

  The world pitched wildly beneath me, and I almost laid back down. My stomach roiled in time with my throbbing skull—a constant melody of pain. Making any solid observation was a struggle.

  But I noticed François’ hands just fine—namely the weapon glinting in one.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I wondered, surprised by how calm I sounded. My heart lurched and I almost couldn’t resist the urge to panic. Scream. Fight. Something in his gaze kept me still, however.

  “No! Of course not.” He eyed the knife in his grip and gulped. Then he shoved it hastily into his pocket without taking care with the blade. The way he flinched led me to suspect he’d cut himself. “I came to help you.”

  But those men had revealed one bitter truth during their banter. “The kid said…”

  “Do you work for my sister?” Posing the question at all hurt.

  But his contrite frown stung more. “I work with her,” he admitted. “But she isn’t why I’m here now.” He glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. “In fact, I need to move you—”

  “Don’t touch me!” I scrambled back, desperate for a weapon. I might have had one already. The firmness within my grasp alerted me to the fact that I was still holding the cross. Odd. After everything in the crypt, I should have dropped it. Upon closer inspection, I noted its odd shape. The long, thin arms of the cross seemed designed to conform to my fingers regardless if they formed a fist around it or not. Readjusting my grip, I brandished one of the pointed ends. “Take me home now,” I rasped. “And I will forget this ever happened.”

  “Home?” François cocked his head, his eyes wide. “You don’t have any idea what’s going on, do you?” He chuckled helplessly, raking his fingers through his hair. He was still wearing his nondescript driver’s uniform—a plain black suit and white undershirt—yet he was sporting one glaring violation of the manor’s dress code.

  Blood speckled the collar, painting it red.

  “Ms. Gray.” When he met my gaze again, his eyes reflected something far worse than betrayal: pity. “I don’t want to scare you, but by getting to you first, I may have just saved your life.”

  No. I ignored the confession. It was too horrifying to think about just yet.

  “Tell me,” I blurted, changing the subject. “Have you always been a member of Georgie’s…club? Where is she by the way?”

  “The Grayne?” He shot me an odd look. “To be honest, I thought you knew. Your sister tasked me to look after you while she went away. A damn good job I’ve done of that.” He eyed me from head to toe, frowning at the blood drying on my hands. “I need to get you to a doctor—”

  “Why?” I demanded. “If Georgie had you watch over me, then why are those people looking for me? Friends of yours?”

  He looked away, his frown even more pronounced. “It’s complicated, Ms. Gray.”

  “Complicated.” I laughed, thinking over all of the drastic, terrifying, horrifying events I’d been through in the past few days—Dublin’s return notwithstanding. “Complicated doesn’t cut it. Explain. Now!”

  “Okay! Okay!” He held his hands out before him in a placating gesture and sighed. “All I know is that I was ordered to protect you. Your sister asked me personally. Then you went missing that day, by the church…” He waited as if expecting an explanation.

  One I never gave.

  Sighing again, he soldiered on. “After that, I was contacted by a member, but it wasn’t your sister.” His eyes narrowed as though he were still processing the information himself. “She hasn’t contacted me in a while, mind you. But that day, my directive changed. If you returned to the house, I was to inform another member immediately. Not your sister. In addition, they said I would be removed from your direct detail. No one could tell me why. It didn’t feel right, so I kept an ear to the ground. At the same time, I learned that a certain powerful figure had returned to the city. Someone with a rather gruesome reputation and a connection to you. Let’s just say I put two and two together.”

  That mysterious, dangerous figure needed no introduction—Dublin Helos.

  “Who were those men?” I asked. “What do they want with me?”

  “Let’s just say the kind of people who don’t get assigned to babysitting detail,” François admitted. “I’m just glad I could get to you first.”

  “Why?”

  He grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “You were different than what the rumors made it seem. Not some naïve, insane lady who fell prey to vampires—” He broke off, coughing into his fist. “I mean…I know your sister wouldn’t want this. Until I hear from her, I’ll do as she asked. That’s all that matters.”

  “Where is she?” Her avoidance of me was one thing. But if even François hadn’t heard from her…

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But trust me, she can handle herself. If you don’t mind me saying this, miss, you should focus on yourself.”

  I blinked, my eyes burning. From guilt? Or maybe pain. When liquid began to dribble down my cheeks, I knew from the consistency that it wasn’t tears.

  “I…I need more than a doctor,” I whispered. The nearest wall was my only stability as the world seesawed beneath me and I clung to it, my knuckles whitening. “It won’t stop.”

  François hissed and shrugged his jacket off, wadding up a sleeve. “Here. Try this.”

  He pressed the fabric near my left temple, but the bleeding didn’t slow. If anything, the pressure seemed to encourage more to drain. With every passing second, I felt dizzier. Thinking took deliberate effort and any coherent thought lacked the urgency I needed to possess. They floated wi
thin my skull, increasingly silly. For instance, If I were a surly vampire, where would I be?

  The cathedral? The manor? In Hell?

  Somewhere far from here because he doesn’t give a damn about me.

  “We can try a hospital,” François suggested. “I know one beyond the network.”

  “I need more than a hospital.” I shut my eyes in defeat.

  There was no use in denying it. I finally let myself face one fact that had been gnawing at the edges of my psyche all this time. Dublin Helos, for whatever reason, hadn’t come breaking down the door. Had he finally washed his hands of me for good?

  Or were my circumstances even more dire than I could comprehend?

  “No one can find you here,” François said as if reading my mind. “Not even him. This place is protected. So was the crypt. Vampires can’t enter without permission.”

  “How?” Perhaps Dublin’s loathing of my childhood playground had been based on more than annoyance? I shifted, attempting to sit unassisted. “It doesn’t matter. I need to find—”

  “Honestly, Ms. Gray I shouldn’t take you anywhere. Or at least somewhere that isn’t safe.” His gaze darted toward the door again, and his hand brushed over the stashed knife.

  “I’ll die,” I said, sounding eerily calm at the prospect. “Without Dublin, I’ll keep bleeding.” More liquid ran rivulets down my cheeks as if in emphasis. “Please.”

  “Damn it!” His jaw clenched, François stood and lifted me into his arms without warning.

  Despite his lanky frame, I felt secure. Enough that I went limp, conserving what little energy I had left.

  “Close your eyes,” he demanded. “I’ve already broken one too damn many rules anyway. Just hold on to me.”

  I complied, gritting my teeth as he raced forward, jostling my body in the haste. I could hear doors opening and closing, and eventually, the still atmosphere gave way to fresh night air.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I’ve been using your car,” he muttered before he released me onto a surface that felt like the leather back seat of the Rolls.

  I opened my eyes, noting the familiar interior, as François rushed into the driver’s seat. The car jolted into motion just as I realized one key fact. “I don’t know where—”

  “I know,” François said without elaborating. “Everyone knows where he is.”

  Stunned, I could only watch the scenery change beyond the window, becoming brighter as the lights of the city replaced the manor’s overgrown grounds. Too bright.

  You’re hallucinating, my inner voice warned as stars danced across my vision. Stay awake, Ellie…

  When the car finally came to an abrupt stop, I knew I was dangerously close to fainting. Keeping my eyes open at all was a struggle, and I lacked the strength to open the door on my end.

  I reached for the handle in vain. But then the entire structure vanished like magic. Or through violence—a monstrous sound resonated with the power of a bomb exploding. Crunching metal. Shattering glass. François’ startled shout.

  But each terrifying noise faded the second I looked up into a pair of silver eyes glaring from the face of a monster. The sight of bared teeth and protruding fangs set every nerve in my body on end—but in a way more terrifying than fear. Relief.

  “Dublin…” I didn’t even see the moment he reached for me.

  I only knew that I was in his arms within the space of a heartbeat, trapped in a stony embrace.

  We were near a deserted road. From beyond the cage of his arms, I saw a car door resting on its side, its window shattered. The rest of the car, however, remained whole. Alarmingly pale, François gaped from the wreckage, still buckled into the driver’s seat. Beyond him, I expected to find the looming façade of the high-rise—but this building was made of brick. Square. A warehouse of some kind?

  Dublin offered no explanation. He moved so fast that I barely processed the layout of the building at all before I found myself thrown onto a soft surface.

  “Look at me.” He gripped my chin, his eyes narrowing over my forehead. “Damn.”

  Hissing, he withdrew something from his pants—a switchblade that expanded into a gleaming knife. With no hesitation, he drew the blade across his wrist and pressed the wound to my lips.

  “I don’t even know if… Just drink.”

  I flinched at his harsh tone—frozen with fury. Regardless, my lips parted on command.

  And all thought faded as the taste of him hijacked my dulled senses.

  I floated, suspended on a wave of ecstasy only his blood could bring. Magical, bubbling ecstasy. Comforting. Suffocating, like the world had been boiled down to a single essence, mine alone.

  But eventually, I had to resurface.

  And reality held no such joy.

  Dublin was already jerking his arm away as if my skin were poison. In the same motion, he rebuttoned his cuff link and slipped his suit jacket on. Armor, I suspected. Strong enough to cage in the emotion spilling from his eyes like fire—rage.

  His mouth opened and closed with a sharp snap. Then he turned away, tearing his fingers through his coifed hair. Beyond him, an unfamiliar room unfolded, composed of dark walls and wooden floors polished to gleam.

  At least it seemed unfamiliar at first glance.

  The light fixtures caught my attention within seconds—silver, shaped like snarling serpents coiled around bulbs that cast pale light. A certain venue came to mind, one I had tried to visit mere weeks ago while searching for Dublin, only to find that it’d vanished.

  The Den.

  “Look at me.”

  My savior stood at the foot of the surface I was resting on—a large bed shrouded in black. The sole piece of furniture, it dominated a relatively bare, but no less elegant, room. Ebony walls displayed little decoration, devoid of any windows. Almost as if to make up for it, an eye-catching chandelier dangled from above. Matching the style of the other lamps, it consisted of an array of coiled, silver snakes.

  Memories stirred on the periphery of my psyche, each one more dangerous than the last. The only way to vanish them was to focus my attention on the man eyeing me as though he wished more than anything to take every drop of his blood back.

  “Are you that determined to die?” His hair hung loosely, framing his thunderous expression. Dressed in a mixture of black and scarlet, he resembled the Devil more than ever. Hungry for my soul. “If so, admit it now and I’ll do it myself.”

  “N-No.” I swallowed as my gaze lowered to the knife still brandished in his grip. “I…I’m sorry—”

  “Sorry?” He snatched my hand and only then did we both realize I still had something clasped within it.

  The necklace. It slipped from my fingers and landed on the bed, caked in fresh blood. Even so, I could finally make out the four letters scratched into its surface—MERO.

  I started to reach for it, but Dublin snatched it first. His hand shook, his eyes wide and unfocused. It wasn’t a spare, I suspected. He eyed it the way one might a ghost. A remnant from his past he hoped to never see again.

  “Dublin!”

  I jumped as a door in the far wall flew open, revealing a panting woman who raced inside. Yulia, barely recognizable in a red dress that hugged her slender shoulders. Her dark hair rested atop her head, coiled in an elegant coif—a night-and-day contrast to her usual style.

  Stopping short, she noticed me and sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God! You found her. Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine.” Dublin didn’t even look at her. He glowered, holding my gaze in a way that nothing—not even fearing for my life—had ever made me feel. Miniscule. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he tucked the necklace into his suit pocket.

  “I’m so relieved.” Yulia braced a hand against her chest. Then she stiffened and her gaze darted to the doorway. “But you need to get her out of here. Now, before he—”

  “Oh, I don’t think you’ll be leaving any time soon, Dublin.” Another woman entered the room, letting out a chilling, girl
ish laugh that set every nerve in my body on end. Loose curls spilled down her shoulders like fire, enhancing the less vibrant scarlet of her dress.

  Her name easily came to mind. Saskia, Dublin’s main adversary in the inner workings of the club he had once traded my soul to. Anemia.

  “Oh, you’ve thoroughly done it now.” She cocked her head in my direction as a smile played over her ruby-colored lips. “In fact, I do believe you’ll both be joining us for this evening’s activities. You and Eleanor.”

  “No.” Dublin lunged toward me and grabbed my arm, yanking me upright.

  Still dizzy, I staggered after him, fighting to keep my balance. Luckily, his blood was already replenishing my weakened muscles. I remained standing at least as he started for the door, dragging me in his wake.

  “We’re leaving—”

  “He’s already on his way,” Saskia crooned. “After all, you did call him.” She tapped her chin with the tip of a manicured finger. “Or should I say you barged into my establishment, threatened my Mikhail with bodily harm, and demanded I summon him for you or—and I’m paraphrasing—you’d kill me with your bare hands?” She smiled, but her eyes blazed with barely concealed fury.

  Sure enough, a man was lurking in the doorway, just beyond the reach of the lights. Handsome and pale, his name came to me instantly. Mikhail. His mouth lacked the smug sneer I remembered, however. Scarlet smears painted his face and his neck in a startling contrast to his dark suit and his ivory shirt. Blood, I suspected. From a wound that had already healed.

  “So yes, you will stay,” Saskia said sweetly. “And he should be arriving within minutes. Actually, he’s even called ahead to request your presence personally.”

  Dublin stopped short, and I had to dig my heels in to prevent myself from colliding with him.

  “I said get out of my way.” He swiveled his gaze in Saskia’s direction and her smug grin wavered a fraction.