by Hannah Pole
‘There are two heartbeats. You take the left, I’ll take the right.’
Crouching by the door, with her heart thundering in her throat, Tam watched Dax intently; he signalled a countdown with his fingers: three, two, one.
His fingers slid around the door handle and, without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the door wide open and leapt out, heading to the right.
Tamriel followed suit, shooting around to the left, her eyes locked onto her surprised target; the man practically had a heart attack as he whipped around and met her gaze.
Lord only knew what he saw in her expression but, for a split second, he looked terrified.
To his credit though, he pulled himself together quickly, snapping his Glock out of his waistband and aiming it at her head.
No! Firstly, she wasn’t getting stuck injured when she was this close to finding Leyth and secondly, she didn’t want him to draw any attention to them. One brute was enough for now, thank you.
Launching herself forward, she snapped a hand out and batted the thing away as she reached him, sending it clattering to the ground. The movement cost her though; he used the distraction to send a fist at her face, cracking her hard in the jaw. She didn’t have time for this; she launched her arms upwards, pushing her cheek harder into his knuckles. Wrapping her hands around his head, she put all her strength into snapping his skull sideways, cracking his neck.
As he fell forwards, she caught him, snaking her hands around his shoulders so she could pull him back into the empty office. She had the fleeting thought that this man might be dying, that his last moment was going to be with his face wedged in her cleavage. A sick part of her wanted to chuckle at the thought, but she viciously shoved it away. Killing was not something she wanted to get used to.
Dax was already in the room, his dead guy shoved underneath the large desk; he helped her heft the second guy out of sight before clapping a hand on her back.
‘Impressive.’ He nodded in approval.
‘Don’t mess with a woman on a mission.’ She grinned briefly.
‘Clearly.’
Not wasting any time, the two of them allowed their bodies to sink into the darkness; the shadows wrapping around them, engulfing them.
This was still pretty weird, Tam thought, glancing down at her nigh-on invisible arm; there were some things that were going to take a hell of a lot of time to get used to. She slipped out of the door, going to the left on instinct; that was where the scent of blood was coming from.
The hallway was long and held little more than white painted walls and plastic grey floors. Luckily, there weren’t any security cameras that they could see; either the Council had some high-tech security, or this was an area they didn’t want recorded. Likely the latter, sometimes you just don’t want the chance of evidence getting out, huh?
There were various doors along the way that went to other abandoned offices, much like the one they’d come out of, also bathrooms and cupboards, also empty. There was a heavy-duty elevator somewhere; she could hear the grind of machinery in the distance behind them.
As they took a sharp turn to the right, they came to a set of stairs leading downwards. They silently took the steps two at a time, coming out into another whitewashed hallway. This one had several stainless-steel doors, all of which seemed to go to medical rooms, with stainless-steel tables and various… devices. Tam shuddered as she eyed the handcuffs and the tools on show. Torture rooms. They had to be.
The ear-splitting screaming sounded out again, bouncing off the walls of the hallway. It seemed to be coming from one of the rooms at the bottom on the left. The two of them bolted forward.
As they reached the door, Dax was literally growling, the veins at his temple bulging out, his breaths short and ragged. There was a woman in that room. She was clearly in pain.
Dax might be a broody wolf with no regard for anyone but himself, he might be a pit of darkness and hatred and, hell, he wasn’t the most sociable of males on the planet either, but this situation, this woman, had gotten under his skin…
Damsel in distress syndrome indeed.
Tam couldn’t help but admire his tenacity when it came to the few morals this male did have; clearly beating on women was one of his triggers.
‘You find our wolf. I’ll deal with this,’ he spat.
Tam barely had time to reply as he burst his way into the place.
As the door swung open, it revealed a room largely similar to the other medical rooms; handcuffs hung from the walls and an open cupboard was filled with all manner of malicious tools.
A stainless steel table on which lay a woman, screaming her lungs out, tears rolling down her cheeks, as a large man bent over her with a silver knife.
Her skin was shredded to the point where you could barely make out its pale colour, her bones had been broken; her limbs jutting out at awkward angles, and her beautiful silver hair was matted with blood.
Tam could barely contain the scream that bubbled to the surface; it came out as a muffled squeak as she slapped her hand over her mouth.
The woman ripped her head around at the noise; her white eyes locked onto Tam’s, and for just a moment, a heartbeat, the world stopped.
Magic burnt the air as it rippled out of the woman’s body; it slowed the two men’s movements to crawling pace, and kept the door from swinging closed.
‘Tamriel,’ she whispered. ‘You have to stop them. You’re the only one who can.’ Lost for words, Tam tried to jump forward, to help the girl.
‘Go,’ she croaked, and with that her beautiful eyes closed as she passed out. It was if that small burst of energy, of power, took the life right out of her.
The magic riding the air fizzled out as quickly as it had entered, everything sped up; the arsehole in the room flinched, dropping his knife as Dax entered, shaking the darkness from his shoulders as he went. With a growl he slammed the door closed behind him.
Tam held in a shudder as she pressed onward. Act first, worry later. Act first, worry later. She kept telling herself the words that seemed to become her mantra of late.
Pulling herself together and tearing her eyes away from the room Dax had all but dived into, Tamriel forced her feet forward, moving through the double doors at the end of the corridor. She came to another set of steel steps leading downward once again and she pulled the darkness tighter around herself, silently making her way down the steps. The deeper she went, the more uneasy she became. The walls surrounding her lost their painted white colour, becoming simply concrete, finally giving way from cut stone bricks to rough rock. At the bottom there was no heavy wooden door, no smooth concrete floor. A rickety cage hung precariously over a deep, dark hole in the rock she was standing on; even through her boots, she could feel the sharp edges. As it dug into her rubber soles, she closed her eyes against the memories of the Circle’s underground base where she’d found Alison; the stone had sliced so deeply into her feet, the scars she still bore ached even now.
Wishing she wasn’t alone, she rubbed her arms against the chill rising up her spine. Maybe Leyth was somewhere else? Maybe they were keeping him outside, where the air was cool and stench-free and there were many escape routes?
Nope, her gut told her he was down in the depths of this building, where the air was heavy with dust and grime, where it was dark, and there was nowhere to run. Goddamn her luck.
She cursed those bastards. They just couldn’t make things easy could they?
She eyed the rickety cage. It was definitely supposed to be an elevator of some sort.
Sliding Leyth’s bolo into the deep knee pocket on the jeans she’d borrowed, she fingered the catch on the ‘door’, which slid open with surprising ease; the metal mesh swinging towards her.
The movement made the entire cage rock, the hinges at the top attaching it to a thick metal wire creaking.
Her stomach hit her toes in protest as she gingerly stepped onto the metal floor of the box, the swinging slowed, but the movement had her gripping onto
the sides for dear life, and praying to the heavens that she lived through this.
Gripping the mesh so hard it cut into her skin, drawing blood, she closed the door. Caging herself in. She couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down her face as she put her trust in the single, thick piece of wire holding her and the cage from certain death, and pushed the red-lit button with the downward-facing arrow that was stuck on a plastic box next to the door.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, maybe it was broken? Then the hinges holding the cage let out an almighty squeal as the wire loosened and the box crashed around violently as it dropped several inches.
The tears were falling steadily as Tamriel gripped the mesh for her life, the wire biting so hard into her skin it left fresh gouges in its wake.
A loud, mechanical whirring noise sounded out as the wire lowered her further still. It may have only taken minutes for the box to drop the distance through the hole, but it felt like years.
Tamriel was so genuinely frightened for her life, felt so helpless, every muscle in her body was so tense, it felt as though her bones were cracking against them.
The thick walls that tightly surrounded the cage finally gave way to a dark open space, though she didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings. She was too focused on the cage and the certain death that hung below her should the wire give way.
When the cage finally thrashed to a halt, the movements abruptly stopping as the bottom hit the hard floor beneath, she didn’t move. She didn’t even open her eyes.
She just stayed crouched in the corner, gripping the harsh metal mesh, breathing deeply, trying to push away the terror that was still consuming her.
She vaguely heard the metal door being unclipped and ripped open, but it wasn’t until heavy hands grabbed at her arms, ripping her fingers from the metal wired grid she was clutching, that she remembered that she was in the headquarters of the enemy; she was literally in the belly of the devil and she’d been too scared to be prepared.
Opening her eyes at last, she looked up into the very blue, very angry-looking eyes of a vampire, fangs bared. He hauled her out of the cage, letting her legs scrape along the harsh rock floor as she went. His shaven head and leather-cladded shoulders made him look exactly the same as the tombs she’d fought had, though his eyes weren’t black, thank god.
As she pulled herself together, she shifted her weight, wriggling just enough to loosen his grip on one of her arms. The guy hissed at her, those fangs gleaming as some stray spit hit her face; he put his arm around her neck and crouched down, hauling her onto his knee. Shit, he was going to bite her.
She frantically reached down, patting at her pockets for her bolo, but his heavy arm covered her waist so that the smaller knives attached to her belt were buried beneath his leather-clad arm, and her bolo was on the other leg. Crap, she couldn’t reach it.
The guy looked like he wanted to speak, opening his mouth. All that came out though was a violent growl; bloodlust had clearly consumed him, which wasn’t surprising; she was losing a lot of the stuff from the gashes on her palms.
He shoved his other arm downward, clamping her arms tight in his vice-like grip, exposing her neck to him. She had a second to realise that her hands were free before he struck her, his fangs sinking deeply into her throat.
She choked out a scream as the hard points split her skin and blood flowed freely into his mouth; he started sucking at her, taking hard pulls at her blood, his grip tightening around her. She was rigid with fear and, as he started moaning, she realised he was going to bleed her dry.
No. She was not going to die this way, not at the hands of a vampire. He moaned again as she reached down, the tips of her fingers brushing the handle of the bolo. The vamp shifted position, licking at the puncture wounds on her neck and she froze, not wanting him to realise what she was doing. He looked at her briefly, in a daze.
‘You taste awesome, wolf.’ His voice was hoarse; as something long and hard punched into her back, she realised he was turned on.
Revulsion rolled through her, making her physically gag. He didn’t hesitate; he struck her again, his teeth finding new skin to penetrate. This time, though, he wasn’t vicious; he wasn’t as desperate, as rushed, as he’d been previously.
He grazed the tip of her skin with a fang, the pain making her hiss as it bit into her. Slowly he sank the tip of his fang through her fragile skin, keeping his grip tight, but letting his fingers slowly stroke her…
A wave of ecstasy rolled through her, blinding her as his teeth sank in. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips; the way her body jerked and her hips rolled in response as his tongue slid over her skin. He chuckled against her as he lapped at her, the pulls more gentle this time.
As the pleasure subsided, she was utterly disgusted with herself. How could she react that way? She cursed her body for betraying her, cursed her mind for giving into it. Her fingers brushed the top of Leyth’s bolo once more, oh god, an image of Leyth’s chiselled face flashed across her mind, bringing tears to her eyes and sending guilt coursing through her.
It was what she needed to find the strength to whip the bolo out, not caring for her own life, not giving a crap about anything but getting this bloodsucker off her; she swung the knife towards herself, the blade sinking heavily into the vamp’s neck, severing his spine and penetrating the soft flesh beneath.
He tore his fangs out of her neck as the knife bit into him; she watched as the life quickly faded from his eyes, his head rolling forward as the blade made its way through his skin.
Panting heavily, Tam looked at the knife; it was only inches from her face, if she’d put just a little more force into that blow, the blade would surely have cut straight through him and into her. Shit.
That was too close.
Shaking herself off, she sternly told herself to be more prepared next time. Sliding the knife out of the vamp’s neck carefully, she hefted his heavy body off hers and rolled off his lap. Coughing and spluttering, she clutched Leyth’s bolo to her chest, glancing back at the dead vampire. His erection was still bulging out of his trousers, even as his head was hanging loosely off his almost-severed neck. A wave of bile shot into her throat, making her gag.
She coughed the bile out, not able to hold it in any longer, gasping for air, as cold sweat dampened her body. She started shaking as the gagging subsided, fear wrapping around her. She shook it off, telling herself to get a grip as she wiped at her forehead and eyed her surroundings.
She was literally in a cave. There was no other way to describe it. The jagged rock curved around her, the dark space seemingly closing in on her. It was lit by the flickering flames of paraffin torches that hung off the rock walls at various points, but the dim light wasn’t much to go by. As she let her eyes adjust properly, she realised that there were various tunnels leading from the space she was in.
Tam decided that she’d had enough of tunnels, she’d been trapped in far too many of late. When this was all over, she was going to find herself a nice open-plan apartment, maybe even a house that wouldn’t contain a single godforsaken hallway.
She smiled at the thought of future normality; the prospect seemed unlikely given her situation, but Christ was it something to hope for.
Thankfully the shaking had subsided, and she could finally breathe again. Gingerly fingering her torn throat, she found it was deeply gouged, but thankfully he hadn’t hit anything vital. He’d missed her jugular by mere millimetres. She tore a section of the vampire’s T-shirt and tied the thing tightly around her neck; it constricted her breathing a little, but at least it would slow the bleeding. His scent filled her nostrils, making her gag. But as her blood soaked through the material, it was replaced by her own coppery scent and for that, she was truly grateful.
She inhaled deeply, picking past her bloody scent and that of the vamp, the thick dust and mould, until she found what she was looking for. Leyth.
Chapte
r Seventeen
Leyth groaned, his voice hoarse from screaming. Peeling his swollen lids open, he tried to make sense of where he was. The room was dark; the musky scent of age and mould filled the air. Heat was still roaring through his skin, the silver they’d injected into him still coursing through his veins. His entire left arm had no feeling to it, and his shoulder was throbbing; pain rippling its way slowly towards his chest.
The stuff was rapidly nearing his heart. Silver burnt like a bastard, he would likely lose his arm at this rate, but that was nothing compared to the impending danger; if it hit his heart the organ would fail almost instantly, killing him on the spot. Fear hit him hard, but he shoved it aside. His death was coming and there wasn’t much he could do about that but go down fighting.
As his eyes slowly took in the area, he realised he wasn’t so much in a room as he was a cave; the rugged natural stone curved around him, cooling his skin. He was tied down to a slab in the middle of the room. Light from paraffin torches flickered around him, letting him see just enough to make out that magi surrounded him.
‘Ah, you have woken. That surprises me,’ the High Lord drawled.
Leyth cracked his head around to the spindly, pale man. His face looked even more gaunt in this light, the flame casting deep shadows over his bony face.
‘Fuck you,’ Leyth spat, eyeing the five of them with disgust.
The three directly behind the High Lord looked absolutely shocked at his curse; the fourth, the thane, who was bent over a large bowl, stirring some sort of gloop together, grinned slightly.
‘No matter your curses, your death is imminent, wolf. I suggest you don’t try to fight me.’
Leyth did fight though; he struggled against the leather straps with all his might, trying desperately to free himself. His left arm wouldn’t budge for love or money, his right arm, however, fought the bind, straining the material, making it cut deeply into his wrist, blood flowing freely over his hand.
‘It’s useless to fight us.’ The magi stalked closer still, bringing a silver knife up in front of him. In one swift movement, the knife was plunged into Leyth’s arm and dragged downward. Pain hit him, thundering its way through his body. His skin hissed and burnt as the silver penetrated it and yet more blood flowed free, cascading onto the stone slab and dripping onto the floor.
