Taken by the Others

by Jess Haines

  “You don’t seem like such a tough little bitch now. What, no begging?”

  I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, trying desperately to think of something to say, something to do, anything that would get me out of his hands.

  “No one here to stop me this time,” he whispered. I could feel his fangs brushing along my collarbone, trailing up to my neck. He paused over my jugular, and for that moment I forgot how to breathe, feeling tense enough to snap. He pulled back, eagerness and triumph lacing his voice. “Royce is going to hate that Max gave you to me. How many times has he bitten you, huh?”

  I didn’t know how to answer him. My scalp was tingling from his grip on my hair, my back was starting to develop a twinge, and my ribs were screaming a silent protest from being held in such an uncomfortable position. Hot tears stung my eyes, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

  “What, no smart remarks this time? Not that it matters.”

  As he leaned in close again, I screamed, though I knew it wouldn’t help anything. God, oh God, he was going to bite me, he was going to kill me–

  He let go of my wrists and clamped his hand over my mouth to stifle my screams as his fangs dug deep into my throat.

  Chapter 10

  You know, I’ve heard all kinds of conflicting stories on what it’s supposed to feel like when a vamp bites you. It’s been said it can feel like anything from the most orgasmic experience in your life to the most unbelievably painful. It’s definitely one of the most terrifying. It’s hard to explain, but while any of those descriptions fit, neither describing it as pleasurable or painful does it justice.

  At first, it felt like exactly what it was–someone was jabbing sharp, pointy objects in my skin. It hurt. Before long, it changed, becoming something else. Something better, yet infinitely worse. Like fire in your veins and lightning down your spine, you can’t move, think, or breathe around the shock of it. It seemed to go on forever.

  When Peter reluctantly pulled away from my throat, I was left gasping for air, lying limply on the bed. Sometime during the course of feeding on me he’d let go of my hair. He backed up from me, wiping thin trickles of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. My blood. I thought I just might throw up.

  “No wonder Royce wants you. You taste good,” he said rather breathlessly, licking his fangs clean of their faint crimson sheen. I shut my eyes and took deep breaths, trying to stop crying and keep from being sick. I wasn’t being too successful at either of those things. My hands shook, rattling the chain between them as I lifted them to prod gingerly at my neck. “Too bad you’re such a pain in the ass.”

  I couldn’t move, and my hands were shaking too much to tell how badly I’d been hurt. Threads of mixed revulsion and pleasure were making it hard to concentrate. I had to be stronger than this. I needed to stop crying and think of a fucking solution, not lie back and sit here doing nothing. The blood making my fingers slick was proof enough that I desperately needed to do something about this. I just couldn’t find the strength to get up on my feet, and despite the deep breaths I was taking, I felt extremely short of air.

  Peter studied me for a time, not moving. “You haven’t been bitten before, have you?”

  I had to breathe deeper yet to keep from sobbing. I’d done enough breaking down. Telling myself that wasn’t helping much. I didn’t want to answer him, but he was shifting like he was going to touch me again. Before he could, I choked out an answer, though I couldn’t speak in much more than a whisper. My voice still cracked as badly as a twelve-year-old hitting puberty.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  He frowned, mulling something over. I could practically hear the boulders rolling around in that thick skull of his.

  “Don’t stand up too fast. You’ll feel dizzy for a while. It’ll pass.”

  Without saying anything else, he prepared to leave. Pausing in the doorway, he looked back at me. If I didn’t know any better, I might have called the look in those brown eyes regret. Made me wonder if there was some part of him that remembered what it was like to be human, to be afraid of monsters like him.

  Without another word, he walked out and shut the door quietly behind him.

  I twisted onto my side and gripped the covers of the bed tightly, trying to get my footing and stand up. In the process, I noticed a few drops of my blood had stained the covers. Retching, I turned away, standing up way too fast.

  My legs didn’t want to hold me. I went down on my knees and stayed there for a few minutes, gasping for breath while I tried not to pass out. My vision was blurred with more than tears. I hadn’t had any idea you felt this sick after being bitten by a vamp. After this little escapade, I’d never leave the house without my body armor ever again. If I ever saw my apartment again.

  I spotted my cell lying about five miles away across the room.

  Desperate to call for help before one of my captors came back, I crawled across the floor as swiftly as my numbed limbs would take me. Maybe Chaz would know what to do. He had connections in the supernatural community, so maybe he could find me. It wasn’t until I started dialing for help that I distantly noted I was badly shivering. Shock? Or cold from the blood loss?

  His phone went straight to voice mail. Shit, shit, shit!

  Who else could help me? Though I hated the idea of doing it, there was only one other person, Other, whatever, that I could think of who might have any idea where Max had taken me. I desperately wanted to call Royce and offer him anything, anything at all, to get me out of here. I never wanted to feel this way again. His phone number was still in memory.

  After a few rings, Royce picked up. “Shiarra?”

  Huzzah for caller ID. As much as it hurt my pride to ask for his help, I didn’t know what else to do at that point. Voice thick with tears, trying to keep quiet so Nicolas wouldn’t hear and investigate, I did something I never thought I’d be desperate enough to stoop to.

  “Please help me … Please, Royce, get me out of here, I’ll do anything, just get me out of here …”

  “Where are you? Did Max take you?” Cold anger radiated through the line. The only other time I’d heard him sound anything like this was right before he threw Peter like a football down the hallway at my apartment.

  I looked around again, trying to spot something, anything that might be of use. “Yes, but I don’t know where they took me. I’m in some kind of basement room, there aren’t any windows so I can’t see where I am.”

  “Okay, don’t panic,” he soothed, some of the anger trickling out of his voice. “Do you know how many other vampires he has with him?”

  “No. The only other vampire I saw was Peter. He sent some men after me during the day. He’s got a mage guarding the door. I haven’t seen anyone else since I woke up in here.”

  “A mage?” There was some surprise there. Magi and vampires aren’t known for getting along with each other. Nicolas didn’t strike me as the sort to play well with anybody, so maybe he was an exception. Hell, anybody might work for an Other if the price is right. I was living proof of that. “All right. Stay put, and try not to provoke them. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Royce …”

  “Yes?”

  I hesitated. What could I say?

  He broke the increasingly awkward silence before I could think of something to tell him. “What else did they do to you?”

  For some reason it bugged me that he could read me well enough to know that I was scared and upset about more than just being kidnapped. “Peter bit me.” It took some courage to say it out loud. Even then, I couldn’t quite bring myself to speak over a whisper.

  “He bit you, did he? We’ll have to do something about that.”

  The flat, disenchanted tone of Royce’s voice was scarier than anything else that’d happened to me today, including being bitten. That should tell you something.

  What was I getting myself into? Hadn’t Royce stopped just shy of biting me himself last night? Maybe calling him for help wasn’t the
fabulous idea I had thought it was. It stung when I realized that his little ploy to make me see him as the lesser evil in comparison to Max was working so well.

  Worse yet, Max walked in just then, Peter at his heels. His eyes narrowed when he saw the phone in my hand.

  I tried to get to my feet, to back away, but my limbs were flat out refusing to work the way I wanted them to. Max yanked it out of my hands with little effort, and he studied the screen briefly before putting the phone to his ear. A smile slowly curved his lips, one that would’ve been charming if it hadn’t been so evil.

  “Alec Royce. What a surprise.”

  Since I’m no Other with hypersensitive hearing, I couldn’t determine what Royce’s response was. He must’ve talked for a bit, because Max simply stood there, staring down at me with the occasional “mmhm” or “mm-mm” punctuating his end of the conversation.

  After a few failed attempts, I gave up attempting to stand. My legs were too rubbery and weak to hold me.

  Suddenly, Max started talking, his voice abrupt and harsh. It was unexpected enough to make me flinch. What had Royce said to him? “No. I know you had a hand in Anastasia’s death. For that, you pay the price. Your little toy will suffer because of your mistake. Remember what happened with Helen of Volos? Think long and hard on it, Alec. This is as much for her as it is for Anastasia.”

  He passed the phone to Peter, then reached down and plucked me off the floor by my shirt collar. I almost passed out again, actually kind of wished that I had.

  “Scream loud enough for him to hear you, lovely,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint my old friend.”

  I couldn’t help but oblige him as he yanked me up against his chest and I was bitten for the second time that day.

  Chapter 11

  I must have passed out again. Whether from the shock of being bitten or the blood loss, it didn’t really matter. I panicked for a second when I woke up, not knowing where I was. I was tucked into a warm, comfy bed with dark red covers and matching pillows. Lovely oak furniture matched the bedstead. A few candles flickered from tall brass stands and candelabra scattered throughout the room, illuminating it just enough to cast deep shadows in the corners and give a softer edge to everything.

  At the sight of the bloodstains on the bedspread, it all came back. I considered panicking some more, but felt too sick, tired, and hopeless to make the effort.

  Someone had thoughtfully taken off my sneakers and thrown the blanket over me. Could it have been Peter having an attack of conscience?

  I was cold, short of breath, and a tad wobbly when I sat up. Though Peter’s bite had hurt at first, and badly, Max’s hadn’t. My dim recollection of the attack before blacking out included a hazy memory of clinging to him, wanting more. That sent a chill down my spine, doing more to frighten me than my capture and confinement.

  The difficulty breathing and sickness roiling my stomach intensified on spotting the dried flecks of blood on the covers down near my feet, the ones from when Peter bit me the first time. Now I felt like puking, too. Not a pleasant combination.

  Max’s voice broke the silence, and my attention whipped to one of the shadowed corners where he’d been quietly lurking. “Good to see you’re awake.”

  The nausea made me take a number of deep, steadying breaths. Even though I was sitting down, I was intensely dizzy. Mental note: do not move head that fast after being bitten by a vampire. Wow.

  “The sickness will pass. Don’t move around so much.”

  I managed to scrape up a semblance of courage and gave him as thorough a glare as I could muster. My throat felt dry, my voice coming out raspy, sandpaper rough. “Why am I still alive?”

  “It’s not time for you to die just yet. I still need you for a few things.” He smiled benignly, not showing any sign of fangs. Sometime while I was unconscious, he’d taken off his jacket. He adjusted one of the cuffs of the button-down shirt he was wearing and met my eyes, making my breath catch in my throat and my heart seize up in renewed terror. He walked to the bed and sat down beside me, folding his hands over one of his knees as he turned to face me. I pressed back against the headboard as hard as I could, my grip on the sheets making my knuckles go white. “Why, would you prefer I end it now?”

  The casual way he asked if I’d rather die now or later made it a bit difficult to find my voice to answer him. “No. Not really.”

  “Good.” He studied me with those cold gray eyes. It was unnerving as hell.

  Some tension filtered out of his expression as he picked up a glass of water from a small dresser next to the bed. Someone must have brought the drink in while I was passed out. He helped me hold the glass since my hands were shaking so badly I would’ve sloshed most of it all over myself before getting it halfway to my mouth. His touch did not make it any easier to get my shivering under control.

  Though I wasn’t sure why he was doing this, I was grudgingly grateful for his help. Once I’d swallowed enough to soothe my parched throat, he put the glass back and returned his gaze to mine. At least he wasn’t glaring at me now. However, I was finding this gentlemanly behavior almost as disturbing as when he was pissed off. What was with the sudden “nice guy” act?

  “I do want you to know that none of this is personal.”

  Oh, that was rich. “Then why are you doing it? Just let me go.”

  He smiled again, the look an adult might give a child for doing something stupid but cute or amusing. I hated it. “You’re the first chance I’ve had at revenge on Alec in centuries. I’m not going to waste the opportunity.”

  “Why me? What do I have to do with it?”

  He closed his eyes and lowered his head, his features hardening. “We were both sired by the same vampire. Did you know that?”

  I shook my head, wondering what that had to do with what I’d asked. He smirked, the expression bitter and cold. “Alec has not been very forthcoming with you, has he?”

  “No offense or anything,” I said, hoping this wouldn’t piss him off further, “but he’s a vamp. I never really expected him to be.”

  The smile he gave me was more genuine this time. “Wise of you to know our nature so well. It’s unfortunate that we could not have met under better circumstances.”

  God, he sounded apologetic that he was going to kill me. A tinge of hysteria was creeping up on me despite my attempts at keeping my panic under control. What could I say to make him change his mind? “You don’t have to do this. I don’t even like Royce. We do business, that’s all.”

  “He wouldn’t bind himself by contract to someone he planned to use and discard. I know Alec. He only plays by the rules when it suits him.”

  “So what about you?” I asked him, regaining some confidence now that I might have something to use against him. “We aren’t contracted. I’m not contracted to Peter. What’s to stop me from slapping a suit on either of you once this is over? Or Royce from filing a grievance complaint against you for touching me? When the cops find out you two bit me outside a contract, that’s an automatic death sentence for both of you.”

  His laughter was so condescending, I had to grit my teeth to keep from slapping him. Not that I’d dare, but it was a nice, soul-warming thought to keep the creeping terror momentarily at bay. “You really think I plan on leaving either of you alive?”

  After some silence, I realized he expected me to answer him. I ground out a faint, “No.”

  “Very good. Like I was saying earlier, this isn’t personal between us. I want you to understand what kind of monster Alec is. Only then will you be able to grasp my motivations. Do you see?”

  I didn’t see, but I nodded anyway. When he was talking, he wasn’t hurting me. That was good. In that case, he could talk all night. He wanted me to have some insight on why he was doing this, after all. Guess he hadn’t seen enough James Bond movies to know better than to tell me his Evil Master Plan. I don’t think he believed that I understood where he was going, but he continued anyway.

  “We ar
e from a very different time. It was expected that we find ways to best each other, to show our strengths and find new ways to please our sire. She loved–”

  “Wait a sec. ‘She'? I thought you were talking about your sire.”

  His lips twitched in amusement at my question. “Among vampires, the term is used to refer to the ones who make us what we are. Whether they are male or female is of no consequence.”

  Ah. I nodded.

  “As I was saying. She loved us both deeply, but we were constantly competing against each other to be seen as the greater in her eyes. We both worked toward this end for many years. Until I met Helen of Volos.”

  He quieted, head bowed again, seemingly lost in thought. I was too afraid to disturb him.

  Eventually, he picked up his train of thought. His voice was low and flat, and I thought I detected the tiniest edge of frustration. “Rha–Alec had started out as a farmer, his family and abilities completely unremarkable. I was a basileus–one of the leaders of my city–before I was turned. Our sire came to the town I ruled and decided she wanted me for herself. Despite my better judgment, I agreed to leave my mortal life behind in return for what I thought would be an eternity of godhood at her side.

  “We traveled much after that, which was how she met Alec. He’d been indentured into the army to aid Alexander, and we happened upon the encampment of his regiment. Our sire was taken with him and his skills at fighting and warfare. She found his stories of murder and pillage more to her liking than my tales of politics and intrigue, so she turned him into one of us, and he usurped my place as her favorite.”

  I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. The guy thought vampirism would equate him to the status of a god? I’d heard of megalomania, had heard it joked about, but this was my first brush with the real deal.

  He was apparently oblivious of my reaction, lost in his own thoughts as he recited these events like he was reading off a grocery list. As if it had happened to someone else.