by Devyn Quinn
Not the thing to be thinking about now!
She stilled, glaring up at him. Pushing her chin out, she bit out defiantly. “You bastard! I should have pumped you full of that shit.”
Iollan held on to her like Super Glue. “I should have ripped out your throat when I had the chance. Maybe now is that time.” He bared his fanged mouth and dipped his head toward her vulnerable exposed throat. The pinch of sharp points pushed into her skin.
Callie immediately stilled. Squeezing her eyes shut, she refused to scream, refused to beg. She wouldn’t plead, Goddamn it. The hot demand of tears pressed at the back of her eyes. She blinked them away, ignoring the tug of emotion at her heart. Don’t be stupid. She’d made her choice. Now she had to live with the consequences.
The sharp pressure at her neck vanished. Surprised, she opened her eyes. Iollan hovered above her. The anger in his eyes had morphed into something else.
He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. The cold in his face dissipated, and his expression softened. Beads of perspiration dotted his brow and upper lip. “I don’t want to kill you, Calista.” He turned his head, just a little. When he looked back at her, his fangs had vanished, retracted.
Head still spinning, Callie wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “What did you say?”
Lowering himself, he briefly touched his lips to hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His words were spoken as a whisper against her lips.
An immediate shudder went through her. “Y-you don’t?” she stammered back stupidly.
Shaking his head, Iollan drew his hands away. The delicious curve of his lips made her feel as though the room was doing a half spin. “No, I don’t.”
Her gaze strayed to his face. His eyes twisted her insides. No hate. No anger. Only regret. “Why?”
Iollan traced one finger across her full lips. “I told you. I made a mistake,” he whispered through a ragged sigh. “And fell in love with my enemy.”
Callie gazed into his eyes, lost in what blazed there. Fluttery feelings spread through her like warm honey. “No, don’t say that,” she mumbled, her response barely audible.
A slow smile turned up Iollan’s lips. “I wanted you enough to risk staying.” He leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss against her lips. “I wanted to taste you one more time.”
Shaking her head, Callie swallowed the lump building in her throat. A pent-up breath rushed from her lungs. “We can’t.”
Iollan’s gaze caught hers, digging, probing. “One more time is all I ask.”
Callie started to protest. Sexually, he was the aggressor. A woman he made love to was engulfed by sheer lust, swept away in the erotic whirlwind he evoked in the female body. He went from tender to rough, from pleasure to pain, in the blink of an eye. “There’s no time.”
Iollan ignored her. The savagery of his desire spurred him on. His hold tightened. Instantly a blaze of desire ignited between them, as though it had been simmering below his surface composure for too long, waiting only for a spark from her to burst into full flame.
Callie felt his mental strike. She stiffened, trying to fight the pressure building inside her skull, and failing. The force pushing inside her brain was relentless, refusing to stop until all access was granted.
Her world blurred as two different sets of images from two different minds—hers and his—mingled and merged. At the same instant an electric sensation smacked her right in the center of her forehead. Iollan’s will cut through her consciousness and she lost all control.
Time slowed to a standstill, reality slipping into a dimension filled with funhouse mirrors. Darkness crept in.
Callie’s mind hazed. Something had definitely settled inside her skull. Drake had tasted her blood more than once. He knew her down to the very last cell in her body, down to the very last thought in her head. The pressure branched out like a spider’s web, traveling with unnerving speed through her brain.
For a moment it seemed as if the entity inside looked out through her eyes. Then it turned inward again and she remembered lying in a damp naked sprawl under Iollan’s muscular body.
Then, his bite. His deliciously painful bite, driven into her skin by unnaturally sharp teeth. Instead of rejecting the pain he delivered, she’d reveled in it, sunk into it. The discovery had been sweet and drugging.
Iollan Drake didn’t blink. His intense stare lanced her. He mentally pushed. Harder.
Callie gasped. Her chest heaved one, twice. She braced herself. Self-control wasn’t lost or adrift. It was drowning. She floundered in the confusion of two conflicting viewpoints. Images kept intruding inside her brain, raw and vivid fragments of their bodies pressed together. She shivered, remembering the feel of his lips crushing her mouth, exploring her breasts.
The knot tightened inside her belly. The pulse between her legs grew stronger, more insistent. Incredible sensations shimmered through her.
The unexpected buck of climax surprised her, slamming her into a hot burst of carnal pleasure. A shudder went through her. Her body silently screamed, every muscle tightening with need. Whirling thoughts danced with the pulse pounding in her throat. Even now, seeing him in his true form, she still wanted him.
Desperately, and without doubt.
The illusion of pleasure suddenly melted. Unwelcome reality swiftly intruded. She felt as though hours had passed, but only seconds had ticked by.
Jarred from the fantasy, Callie locked her jaw. Her head felt as if a stick of dynamite had been lodged between her ears. She shook her head, swallowing against the nausea. “Get out of my mind,” she grated between gritted teeth.
Iollan’s invasion receded a little.
Grateful, she gasped. Her tongue traced dry lips, wetting them. Aware his body still controlled hers, she wriggled out from under him. He let her go.
Callie sat up, grasping her head. “Thanks for a nice fuck, but this isn’t the time for those kind of thoughts. You should be thinking about getting the hell out of here.”
The hand Iollan lifted to rub his eyes trembled. The silver was beginning to infiltrate his system, weakening him. “Maybe I’m tired of running, of being driven into hiding time and time again,” he snarled, but the hateful tone in his voice fell well short of the emotion. The intensity of his voice told her all she needed to know.
Guilt twisted her inside. As tough as she wanted to appear, she was shaken up pretty badly. Not because of what he was, but because she’d be responsible for his capture. “Seems to me running might be a good way to stay alive.” How ironic. The captor wishing for a way to get him the hell away from this place before the rest of the agents caught up.
He gave a fatalistic shrug. “Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Terrific. A suicidal vampire.
Callie glanced toward the windows, the burnt frames offering a glimpse of sun as it sank lower, dipping behind the faraway horizon. Shadows gathered, thickening. Her gaze locked with Iollan’s across the narrow expanse separating them.
“It matters to me.” She started to touch him. Climbing to his feet, he backed away from her reach. She stopped. “Can you get the hell out of here without being seen?”
Eyes intense and focused, Iollan nodded. “I just need the darkness, Calista. I can be gone.”
Emotion tightened her throat. Remembering the corpse on the table, the mutated thing in the jar, Callie gazed toward the gaping windows. No matter what Iollan might be, she couldn’t do that to another sentient being. Conscience wouldn’t allow it.
Time to make a decision. The hunt for the vampires wasn’t going to stop, but she could prevent the capture of at least one. If he just happened to get away, well, would that be her fault?
She blew out an anxious breath. Fuck the job. Plans had just changed. She’d deal with the fallout when the time came.
“Just get the hell out,” she hissed under her breath. “Get away from this place.”
A voice behind and to her left cut her off. “Take one fucking step in any direction,
Drake, and I’ll pump you full of this shit.” Charging in like a general leading the troops, Roger Reinke activated his communications link. “We have an agent down. Get your asses in here, double time.”
Head twisting around, Callie cursed under her breath. Goddamn it. Roger had his weapon up and sighted. No way he’d miss at this distance.
Caught like a rat in a trap, Iollan Drake reacted like a feral animal, purely instinctive and self-preserving: snarling, his lips curled up, revealing deadly fangs.
Caught between the two men, Callie held up a hand. Keep your head, she warned herself. Don’t lose it now. Helping Iollan was her first and only thought.
“I’m okay, Roger,” she called. “He didn’t hurt me.”
Looking past her as if she hadn’t spoken, Reinke glared a stream of pure wicked hate. “Just move,” he warned Drake. “And I’ll gladly send you back to the hell that spawned you.”
Callie took a deep breath, hoping to clear her head a bit more. She needed to convince Roger that Iollan Drake wasn’t a threat. If they let him go, he’d disappear. Somehow she’d find him again, or he’d find her. She just knew it.
And then it happened. Precious time ran out.
Voices shouted, moving closer and closer. More agents burst in, weapons drawn, giving the familiar warning to freeze. Seconds later, the entire place seemed to be swarming with jacketed bodies.
Callie’s guts knotted as agents rushed forward. Several men surrounded him at once, backing him into a corner with their weapons. They came too fast, from too many sides. The night had, for once, failed him. The shadows no longer gave sanctuary.
A couple of agents shoved Iollan to his knees, twisting his arms up behind his back. Seconds later, solid metal cuffs ratcheted around his wrists.
The sight barely registered because strong hands grasped her arms and hauled her to her feet. When they stood her up, she struggled to jerk out of their grasp. Her knees wobbled, refusing to hold her weight. No such luck. She wasn’t going anywhere her legs didn’t want to.
Callie groaned. She’d tried to free Iollan and failed. Guilt swooped in on crimson-tipped wings, wrapping her in a dark mantle of shame. “Fuck.”
She watched Iollan’s captors grasp his elbows and bodily haul him across the room. They were none too gentle; there was no guarantee the prisoner would make it downstairs intact. Agents believed one of their own had almost fallen in the line of duty. A few looked more than eager to play catch-up.
Callie briefly closed her eyes, silently praying they wouldn’t kill him. A hand on her shoulder forced her eyelids open. Her gaze automatically trekked toward Roger Reinke.
Concern creased Reinke’s face. “Did he hurt you, Agent Whitten?”
Callie shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
She wasn’t.
19
Cold and inhospitable. That’s what Callie thought of the prison block. No way she’d want to be a prisoner in this place. White ceramic tile floors and walls gave the block a sterile and impersonal atmosphere. Sinister even. Thick steel doors dominated.
Doctor Yuan, Professor Forque, and a couple of lab assistants led the way through the forbidding maze of halls. Like a man on his way to his execution, Iollan Drake walked between Roger Reinke and another agent. Since his capture Iollan had mantled himself in silence. He wouldn’t respond to the questions the scientists had peppered him with, choosing instead a show of fangs. Just the way a wild animal would. This wasn’t earning him any brownie points, nor did it prove the more evolved species to be more intelligent.
Callie didn’t blame him. Put in his position, she supposed she’d give a show of fangs, too. Right now she didn’t think it was the right tactic for him to employ. Might be better to show he was more human than the humans. The way he was being treated and regarded would probably improve a lot.
Callie was hailed as the conquering hero, the agent responsible for capturing the most wanted of the species. Her success had come at a price, one she realized she hadn’t been prepared to pay.
Callie felt horrible for betraying him.
The claustrophobia of the whole situation overwhelmed her. As an agent of the government, she was also government property. Refuse to cooperate and she’d probably be sitting in one of these cells herself. No way they’d let her run free, memory or not. At least Toryn and Cadyn had escaped, most likely in hiding. Iollan must be grateful for that small mercy. Not that he had much to feel grateful about.
A cell was chosen, a door unlocked. Everyone went inside, most of them willingly. Two not so willingly.
A small square cell, maybe twelve by twelve. Not much to it. In fact, except for the floors and walls and a strip of phosphorescent light glaring down from above, there wasn’t even a bunk.
Callie stiffened. What the fuck was going on?
She soon found out.
Doctor Yuan produced a syringe out of one pocket of her white lab coat. “Hold him still,” she ordered the agents.
Callie frowned. The sight of any syringe automatically set her nerves on edge. “What the hell is that?”
Doctor Yuan approached Iollan. “Just something to keep him calm while we cuff him.” Uncapping the needle, she nodded to the men. “Hold him, please.”
Drake’s lip curled back, showing the full length of his upper and lower fangs. A low growl emanated from his throat. Muscles bunching, cords thickening in his neck, his pale eyes blazed as he struggled between the agents.
Roger Reinke and his partner moved into action. They pressed Iollan back against the wall, anchoring him with their weight. “Better hurry up, doc,” Reinke wheezed. “Holding this fucker back is like trying to hold back the ocean.”
Yuan didn’t blink an eye. She calmly stepped up on the tip of her toes and slid the needle into the vampire’s jugular. Under the plunge of her finger the syringe emptied into his veins.
Iollan’s growl turned into the low rumble of a moan deep in his throat. Stubbornly, he wouldn’t let it out.
Yuan stepped back. Satisfaction glinted in her dark almond eyes. “That’ll keep him quiet a while.”
Iollan’s eyelids fluttered, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open. His hair was limp, and dark circles ringed his eyes. Unusually pale in the filtered light, he seemed to have skin with the transparency of paper. His flesh looked cold, with no sign of a pulse. His gaze had dulled, the vibrant color of his irises nonexistent, sapped away by the poison Doctor Yuan had introduced into his veins.
Callie gritted her teeth, forcing back the emotions rising in the back of her mind. The sight of this magnificent man reduced to little more than a lab rat caused tears to sting the backs of her eyes. She quickly blinked them away. Right now she felt the lowest of the low, as if she’d slain the last living example of an extinct species.
Focus, she ordered herself. She had to find a way to get Iollan out of this evil place. She didn’t know how yet, but she vowed that she’d move heaven and earth to find a way. Twice he’d had the chance to kill her and twice he’d drawn back. He wasn’t a killer, except in self-defense. He’d have been right to take her life and she knew it.
Tucked into her shoulder holster she had a weapon that would fire real bullets. A mad fantasy flashed through her mind. She could pull her gun and drop the agents, then get Iollan the hell out of this place. Then she’d get him somewhere safe, where no one hunted vampires.
Fat chance.
Her fantasy shattered when Iollan slumped against the wall, then slid to the floor in a semiconscious heap. His head lolled to one side.
Callie winced. So much for that idea. Iollan wasn’t in any shape to walk across the room now, much less make a mad dash for escape.
Doctor Yuan pointed to a far wall. “Put him there.”
Roger and his partner dragged Iollan to the wall. Metal rings had been fixed into the concrete. One of the agents removed the cuffs holding Iollan’s hands behind his back and pushed him into a sitting position. At the same time, Doctor Yuan’s assistant
produced another pair: thick leather cuffs and a leather collar.
Callie gasped at the sight. As the assistant opened the collar, she saw a row of short silver spikes inside. The device went around Iollan’s neck. He winced as the restraint bit into his skin. Cinched tight enough for the spikes to penetrate vulnerable flesh, the restraint device was locked and then attached to the ring in the wall by a short chain.
Her brow wrinkled in fierce disapproval. “What the hell is that?”
Doctor Yuan didn’t blink. “We can’t feed too much liquid silver into their systems or we’ll poison them. We’ve found that the penetration of solid silver works much better; keeps them unable to shift.”
The sound of tearing material told Callie the other two cuffs were being applied. Her gaze swung back toward Iollan, watching as his wrists were securely cuffed and attached to the rings.
Iollan hissed when the cuffs went on, hands weakly flexing open and shut. The spikes penetrated the soft skin of his inner wrists, releasing tiny rivulets of blood before the pressure of the spikes resealed the wounds. By the look on his face he’d like to tear everyone a new asshole.
Callie pointed. “Christ, he’s bleeding.” Arms slightly spread, Iollan’s cuffs were attached to the corresponding rings on either side of his body. His hands hung at the level of his head. All in all it looked very medieval and extremely uncomfortable.
“It’ll stop,” Professor Forque said, speaking for the first time since they’d entered the cell. “These things have an amazing capacity to heal.” He was dead serious.
Callie shifted, planting her hands on her hips. She leveled him with a withering look. “You guys must get this stuff from the de Sade school of research. This is fucking inhumane. Isn’t this kind of treatment against the Geneva Convention?” She hadn’t intended for the words to come out laced with disgust.
“He isn’t a prisoner of war,” Roger Reinke pointed out. “Doesn’t apply here.”
“Oh? Then what is a prisoner of our government called if held against his will and tossed into a tiny cell without any facilities except for torture?”
