Auctioned for Her Blood: The Vampires' Illuminant Book 1

by Mara Leigh

  Turning her head, she meets my gaze. You owe me, she mouths.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Zuben

  My body vibrates with adrenaline and need. If I had arrived moments later, Ember would be brutally violated, most likely dead.

  I was unconscious for hours, dosed with a concoction of colloidal silver, based on how I felt when I woke. My arrest was clearly a mistake. So was hers. That much is certain, but that does not answer where we are.

  This is not the DEFTA prison. It’s like no vampire prison I have ever known.

  The security team was only supposed to take the pirate and any vampires found with him—no humans and certainly not me. I will sort out this mess, but have not yet located a guard to whom I can report this egregious error.

  Ember is so weak, so cold in my arms, and the stunning red dress she wore to the gala leaves her almost naked. She clings to me, arms around my neck, her body soft, her scent enticing, and all of it makes me want things from her—things I haven’t wanted for a hundred years, repulsive things I thought I’d never want again.

  But I cannot give in. I will not use Ember for my gratification. If I take what I want from her—especially with her in this weakened condition—then I am no better than that animal who threatened to rape her.

  “Where are you taking me?” Her voice is faint and scraped over sandpaper.

  “To safety.” If only I knew where safety might be. I have no knowledge of this dungeon and it’s a far cry from the prison in the DEFTA headquarters with its simple but comfortable prisoner chambers. This is someplace much worse.

  But I must be strong for her. Show her no fear. “We are underground. In a dungeon.” We turn again and I mentally map all the twists and turns I have so far taken.

  “I got that,” she says close to my ear. “But why are we here?”

  “It is a mistake,” I tell her calmly. “I will fix it.”

  Sighing, she clings to me more tightly. “Where’s Ryker?”

  “I do not know.” That is the truth.

  Based on my conversation, Octavia thinks that Ryker himself is the Illuminator, and I’m not sure what she’ll do to test that theory. But I cannot concern myself with him, even if I am responsible for his capture. All my concern lies with Ember.

  Turning into a narrower corridor, I spot doors and kick one open. Inside, a group of vampires are copulating and feeding, writhing over a bed of Persian rugs, furs and silk sheets.

  Ember stiffens in my arms, pulling in tighter against me.

  Spotting us, one of the vampires beckons. We could hide safely here for a time, but there will be questions once they realize she is human, and although they are feeding from each other, some might also crave human blood, and I cannot allow any of them to taste her.

  I turn away, pulling the door shut behind us.

  “I wish you had not seen that,” I say softly. “Not all vampires behave in such a hedonistic, animalistic manner.” Over the years, I have learned to tame the baser instincts which are common among vampires, such as the raging need for copulation whenever we feed from each other.

  “Were those all vampires?” she asks, her voice rough.

  I must find her some water. “Yes. I believe so. I did not sense other species in that room.”

  “You can sense vampires?” she asks, pulling back to look into my eyes as I carry her.

  I nod. “All vampires can.”

  “How? To me, you and Ryker look normal—I mean, like humans.”

  I kick open another door and this room is similarly furnished to the last, but unoccupied. A large, irregularly shaped mattress, more like a massive cushion, fills the center of the room, and it’s covered in furs and silks woven into velvet and satin. Around its sides sit several pieces of furniture—benches, sofas and chairs—some plushly upholstered, some clearly meant for rougher and deviant sexual activities. My cock twitches, but I ignore it.

  Mind over urges. I can control myself.

  Carrying her inside, I kick the door closed behind us.

  “It’s so dark,” she says, her voice revealing fear. “What…why did you bring me in here?” Her body shifts as if she’s trying to escape my arms.

  I set her down on a down-filled sofa covered in black velvet, and her hands frantically explore her surroundings, her gaze darting around in the dark, her expression confused.

  “Vampires have night vision,” I tell her. “There does not appear to be any electrical lighting in here, but I will ignite one of the torches so you can see your surroundings.”

  Calming slightly, she leans her back into the soft sofa and pulls her legs up into her chest, wrapping her arms over her shins as if she wants to hide herself from danger—from me.

  Using the flint striker I find next to it, I light a torch, and the room fills with light.

  Ember’s shoulders relax, just slightly, and then a look of determination comes over her face. Letting go of her legs, she straightens her back, shifting forward on the soft cushions. But as strong as she is trying to appear, the effort of her movement visibly drains her.

  “Where are we?” she asks, her voice scratchy. “What’s going on? Where is Ryker? You were in Rittenhouse Square when we were attacked. What’s going on? I need answers.” Her voice breaks, so hoarse from dehydration.

  “I must find you some water.” I scan the room, hoping to find something liquid in here she can safely drink.

  “Answer me!” she croaks.

  My head snaps toward her, surprised by her fierce tone and pleased she has so much fight inside of her, especially given the circumstances. She will need that fight, until I can alert DEFTA management to the security team’s error.

  I approach her, and her body tightens and retracts, pulling away from me. But the movement is small. She’s fighting to hide her reaction. She wants to appear strong and fearless, and I admire her for that.

  “May I sit?” I gesture toward the cushions beside her.

  She nods, stiffly, and I sink into the opposite corner of the sofa, turning toward her. She shifts to sit cross-legged, her back against the arm of the sofa, facing me, waiting for answers to her questions.

  There is no way I can answer them all. I do not know the answer to some of her queries, and the ones to others will implicate me in her capture. I must withhold the truth, not for my self-interests, but to protect her. The less she knows about the circumstances of her detention, the more chance she will trust me, and she must trust me if I am to keep her safe.

  But as I look into her eyes, flashing with a mix of fear and determination in the torchlight, I know that she deserves the truth.

  I do not like to lie to anyone, but don’t want to lie to Ember—ever.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ember

  My back presses against the arm of the sofa, wishing it weren’t so soft, wishing I could do something to help me seem stronger and hide how my body is trembling.

  Zuben saved me from rape and probably bleeding to death, given the size of that monster’s cock. I’m grateful for that, but need answers. Zuben knows what’s going on here—knows way more than he’s telling me at least.

  I’m even weaker, more tired now than when I first awoke and it’s a struggle to keep my eyes open, nearly impossible to focus with so many questions racing through my mind. I fight to set priorities.

  The word priority puts my most important question back on top. “Where is Ryker?”

  Zuben shakes his head, slowly. “I do not know.”

  “Bullshit!” My voice cracks and I struggle to find moisture to soothe my raw throat, the energy to sit straight.

  Zuben’s chiseled chin rises, his cheekbones catching the flickering light. Gracen was not wrong about his looks. As attracted as I am to Ryker, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more handsome man than Zuben. He’s beautiful, really.

  “Ember,” he says calmly, “I do not know the location of the pirate, but I will tell you all that I do know. I promise.”

  “A
nd what is your promise worth?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  “My life,” he says so earnestly it’s hard to believe he doesn’t mean it.

  Even though I know he’s likely manipulating me, there is something about his expression and the look in his eyes that urges me to believe he means what he said: to him, his word is worth his life.

  “What happened last night?” I ask. “In the square. Were you following us?”

  His chin dips. “Yes. I was.”

  I’m shocked at this blatant honesty. “Why?”

  “To keep you safe.”

  “Safe?” I tip my head back. “You call this safe?” My voice scrapes out, each word drawing pain.

  “No.” His head bows slightly. “At that objective, I have failed miserably.” He looks into my eyes again. “But if you can find a way to forgive that failing, I will do everything in my power to correct the egregious injustice which resulted from my error.” He shakes his head quickly. “Correction. I will right this injustice whether or not you forgive me.”

  “Thank you.” Why am I thanking him? He’s just admitted that my being here is his fault.

  “Why are you thanking me?” he asks.

  My back stiffens. “Can vampires read minds?”

  “No, most cannot.”

  “Can you?” I realize this man is not only cryptic, he’s very literal, and his, ‘Most cannot,’ answer told me nothing. If he wants me to trust him, he’s going to have to be more forthcoming.

  “No. I cannot read minds.” He shifts slightly. “In fact, at times I believe I am less skilled in this regard than most people on earth, no matter their species.” His head twitches, just slightly, as if admitting this hurts him.

  “And you did not answer my question,” he continues. “Why did you thank me, given my actions caused you great harm?”

  The raw honesty in his question, his need to understand my feelings, moves something inside me—shifts something profound in the utter core of me. “I was thanking you for stopping that Psycho guy from raping me.”

  “Ah. Yes.” He nods as if I’m a magician who just revealed my best trick. “For that you are most welcome. I only wish that I could have spared you the threat.”

  “Back there…” I clear my throat. “Why did you call me your mate?”

  He nods. “For that too, I must apologize. It was a presumptuous lie, but a falsehood designed to appeal to his values in order to stop him. I hoped that, even as a criminal, he might follow some basic rules of civility.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, feeling like an object that the two men made an ownership agreement over. “You mean… you appealed to his bro code.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “I do not understand. Oh!” His eyes light up. “Bro is short for brothers. Yes, that is correct, in a sense. I appealed to a code of brotherhood.”

  I want to ask more about what the word ‘mate’ means to vampires, but there are so many other things more pressing right now. And I need to conserve my hoarse voice and use it to find out all I can, before I pass out from fatigue.

  I was alone when I woke, but the vampires who found me said I was brought in with a male vampire. I assumed it was Ryker, but now I wonder if I was brought in with Zuben? I remember when he was handcuffed in the square. “Why did you leave me alone down here?”

  “I did not leave you. I would never do that.” He leans toward me. “Not voluntarily. I too woke alone and had no reason to believe you were down here. My first priority was to search for a guard so that I could inform them that I was captured in error. But upon hearing a commotion, and the mention of a human female…” Closing his eyes, he shudders. “I rushed to investigate, on the remote chance that the human might be you.”

  My surroundings are clearer now as my eyes adjust to the light, but the better sight is not easing my fear. Some of the pieces of furniture look like they’re meant for torture—or something—and the center of the room is a mattress, not unlike that room we passed with the orgy.

  “You think there are other humans down here?” I ask.

  “I do not know that with certainty, but no, I do not believe so.”

  Fatigue threatens to steal me. I can’t sort through all my questions. If this is a prison for vampires… “Why am I here?”

  “I too am trying to ascertain the answer to that question.” His dark eyebrows draw together and he pauses, as if thinking. “I have not yet fully recovered from the silver—” His eyes widen. “But I remember… You were trapped under that silver netting alongside the pirate. The silver burned you!”

  Eyes wide, he shakes his head in wonder. “I do not comprehend why silver would harm you, but because of that, the security team must have mistaken you for a vampire. Still, that does not explain why the silver burned you, where we are, or why either of us are here. Nor does it offer any clues as to the pirate’s location.”

  His candor takes me by surprise, increasing my faith in him. My gut instinct says to trust Zuben—I have no one else—but my skeptical side keeps urging me to test him.

  Remembering that netting, I shift, and a sharp sting radiates from my shoulder.

  He moves next to me in a flash. “What is causing you pain?”

  I lean forward, revealing my shoulder and back to him, wishing I weren’t still wearing this skimpy red dress that exposes so much of my skin.

  “Your burns from the silver have not fully healed,” he says. “That is most interesting.”

  Making a face, I look up at him. “My burns are interesting?”

  He bows his head slightly, a soft smile on his lips. “Once again, I find I must apologize.” He places his hands over his heart. “Your pain, Ember, causes me pain, and I wish I could take it away.” Something flashes in his eyes, like he’s had an idea, but it goes away as fast as it came.

  “My interest,” he continues, “is in why you burned. And why you seem to have partially healed, but not fully. Have you always had this reaction to silver?”

  I shake my head, my throat so sore, my mouth seeming even drier now that he’s so close.

  He shifts off the sofa and kneels in front of me, putting his eye level with mine. “Ember, may I ask you a highly personal question?”

  I nod. Just because he asks, doesn’t mean I’ll answer.

  His head tips to the side, his brows drawing together. “If my suspicion is correct…” Closing his eyes, he shudders, as if his thoughts repulsed him. “I expect that you will not know the answer to this question, but nevertheless I must ask it.”

  Curious, I nod, encouraging him to just get on with whatever it is he wants to ask, but not wanting to waste the pain and effort of words.

  “Did the pirate—did Ryker—did he drink from your vein?”

  I clear my throat to answer, and cough. “Yes.”

  Anger flashes in Zuben’s eyes, but then the obvious curiosity of another question takes them over. “How do you know that he fed from you? Did he tell you that he took your vein?”

  “He didn’t need to,” I answer, remembering that Ryker was also surprised that I stayed conscious. I felt him bite me. I felt it while he drank. “I didn’t fall asleep.”

  Zuben’s eyes light up, sparking with interest. “Tell me more. Tell me everything.”

  I lift my hand to my throat remembering the pleasure his feeding gave me.

  “Forgive me.” He stands. “You are dehydrated, exhausted and clearly in dire need of liquid refreshment. There is none in this room, but I will find what you need. There must be water in this dungeon to satiate the non-vampiric prisoners.”

  My body tenses. Earlier he said I was the only human down here. “What—who else is down here?” It hurts to speak and I wish I could make myself stop talking, but I have so much to ask.

  “I cannot answer your question with any accuracy,” he says, “having just arrived myself. But based on my observations, in addition to mostly vampires, this prison contains all manner of what you humans would call supernatural creatures.”
>
  “Plus a bear.” I swallow in a vain attempt to wet my parched throat.

  “A bear? I doubt that.” He takes a step back from me. “I will leave you now to locate some water.” He’s at the door in a flash.

  “No!” The word scrapes out of me, and my body shakes, imagining what would happen if Psycho found me in here, or anyone else for that matter. Based on what I saw, the rooms in this hallway are used for sex, and drinking blood, and I have zero interest in being a participant, involuntary or voluntary, in any kind of a vampire orgy. “Zuben, please don’t leave me alone. Please.”

  In a flash, he’s kneeling on the sofa at my side. “But you must drink.”

  Again I see an idea flash in his eyes. His lips part and his fangs spring out.

  I press back against the sofa cushions. “No…”

  He shakes his head, offering reassurance with his eyes. “I am sorry for startling you. I have no intention of feeding from your vein. Instead, I mean you to feed from mine.”

  He bites his wrist and then presses the ripped flesh against my lips, moving so quickly I don’t have time to react, or to seal my mouth closed before his wrist is there. The taste of Zuben’s blood—coppery, salty, meaty—hits my tongue, and even before I swallow anything, a rush flows through my body unlike anything I’ve felt before.

  The idea of drinking vampire blood, anyone’s blood, is repulsive, but my lips part of their own volition, and I suck, gulping, drawing long draughts of the hot liquid that not only soothes my pain and my thirst, but my entire body, waking it, like an instant influx of energy.

  But it’s more than just energy. I’ve never felt so alive. It’s not unlike when Ryker fed from me, or shot his seed inside my body—but it’s different...even better. It’s like there’s a wind tunnel inside me, but the wind brings pure joy, pure energy, and unimaginable pleasure.