Scions: Resurrection

by Patrice Michelle

  Bullets continued to pepper the pavement around them as he moved around a building, then ran underneath it into a dimly lit parking garage.

  When he stopped next to a small black car and the trunk popped open, Ariel began to scream once more. She kicked her legs at the same time she pounded on his back and butt with her fists.

  Pain splintered across her shoulder from her actions, but she was fighting for her life. Adrenaline had to be the only way she was staying conscious.

  “Keep your mouth shut or I’ll knock you out,” he ground out in a cold tone right before he rolled her from his shoulder into his compact trunk. The parking lot’s yellow lights glowed behind his head, casting his face in shadows. She had just enough time to curl her legs inside the small space before he slammed the lid down.

  Newly shampooed carpet invaded her nostrils as Ariel moaned at the pain in her shoulder. She knew her injury had gotten worse from being tossed in the trunk. The engine revved and wheels squealed. As the car backed up, she jerked sideways. Ariel bit her lip to keep from screaming out at the fire spreading across her shoulder. She lay in the darkness, whispering over and over again, “You must stay conscious. Breathe easy. In and out.”

  She heard him talking in a low tone, but she couldn’t make out what he said over the sound of the car’s engine. They rode for a while, and she had to force herself to keep her eyes open in the pitch dark. The pain in her shoulder burned so much her body begged to succumb to the darkness surrounding her.

  The car finally stopped and she heard birds squawking. A foghorn blew in the distance. They must be around or near the river docks, she thought just as the trunk opened.

  The interior light shone in her eyes, and Ariel blinked against the brightness, trying to see her captor’s face.

  He grabbed a fistful of her linen shirt, and the sound of fabric tearing echoed between them as he used the shirt to stand her upright on the ground beside him. Ariel winced at the pain that speared through her shoulder when he released her.

  Her stomach churned in queasy fits and her feet turned to lead blocks. Her anxious gaze traveled the man’s towering frame. He had to be at least nine inches taller than her own five feet seven inches.

  He gripped her upper arm, his penetrating eyes narrowing as his dark eyebrows drew down in a frown. “I have a pickup to make. You will behave.”

  His eyes were so black they appeared bottomless. No—soulless, she mentally corrected. The five-o’clock shadow across his angular jaw and the thin scar that ran down the side of his neck only magnified his deadly persona. She scanned his tall physique, looking for something distinctive. He appeared human, but no human could leap across buildings as easily as if he were jumping cracks on a sidewalk. He could be a vampire. The thought echoed quietly in her head, but she refused to acknowledge it. Vampires were extinct.

  When her gaze returned to his face, his mouth was set in a hard line, apparently waiting for her response. Her stomach knotted and her shoulder stung as if it were being attacked by an army of fire ants. She quickly nodded her agreement. What the hell else could she do?

  Her captor tugged her up a ramp that led into a wood-planked three-story building. The warehouse sat on wooden pillars that disappeared into the Hudson River below. Before they walked inside she noted the sign marker on the side of the building: Pier #48.

  When they stepped off the wide ramp, she saw that the deserted floor of the building had cement columns supporting the weight of the floor above it. Glancing back at the reinforced ramp they’d just walked up, she realized this floor must be some kind of parking garage. Why hadn’t he parked inside? And why had he brought her here?

  The man didn’t give her time to ponder her surroundings or his actions. He hauled her beside him over to a stairwell door along the building’s side wall. Once he pulled open the heavy metal exit door, he flipped on the light, and they began to climb the stairs. With each step she took apprehension dug in her gut like termites slowly eating their way through.

  Their shoes rang on the metal stairs beneath their feet, and Ariel’s heart thumped at an erratic rate. She’d never been more frightened in her life, but if they met someone along the way, she wanted to stay focused so she could somehow let the person know she wasn’t there of her own free will. Glancing at her torn thin tan jacket and white linen blouse underneath, she saw she was covered in black carpet lint.

  Blood had to have seeped from her shirt through the back of her jacket. Every move she made caused the shirt to peel away and then restick to her skin. Someone only had to see her disheveled, bloody appearance to know she needed help. At least she hoped that was all it would take.

  When they reached the third floor, he opened the stairwell door and drew her close to his side as he entered the long hall. The man’s booted feet echoed on the scratched-up hardwood floor as they walked down the hall toward a closed door.

  His firm grip never loosened on her arm while he knocked three times and waited.

  A bearded man with messy red hair answered the door and glared at them. The snake tattoo on his bicep, exposed by his wife-beater tank shirt, seemed to hiss at her. Somehow she didn’t think this person was the Good Samaritan type. Disappointment set a twenty-pound weight on her chest.

  The man’s brown gaze darted briefly to Ariel. “I don’t like this short notice.”

  “Where’s my merchandise?” her kidnapper said in a clipped tone.

  He sighed and backed up, opening the door wide to let them in.

  As they walked past him, the smell of lukin weed and sweat slammed into Ariel. The bearded man reeked of the powerfully addictive hallucinogenic drug as if he’d been bathing in it, yet no smoke filled the room. He must just do his drug business here, she thought as a sudden secondary concern rushed to the forefront of her mind.

  Oh, no! My kidnapper is a junkie. Maybe that’s why he took chances as though he had superhuman strength, though she couldn’t explain his ability to jump from buildings without a scratch. Bitter anger welled within her as an image of her brother Peter, whacked out on lukin, materialized in her mind. Peter hadn’t survived his jump—but then, she didn’t think he’d planned to.

  Her chest tightened and her heart rate sped up as they walked farther into the open room that spanned the entire top floor of the building. Huge-paned windows lined the far wall all the way across, giving a view of dock lights reflecting off the dark water below.

  The fluorescent lights above them shone on the dealer’s bushy hair as he preceded them, heading toward a long table near the windows. Other than a few shipping crates scattered throughout the room, the wobbly, scarred wooden table was the only piece of furniture.

  After the man walked around behind the table, he popped open a small silver briefcase sitting on the surface. They approached and he turned the three-by-twelve-inch case toward them. “Fourteen grand.”

  A dozen slender vials of clear liquid nestled in the foam lining inside the case. She didn’t know lukin weed could be used in liquid form. But she did know the case held a lot of drugs. What did any of this have to do with her?

  “We agreed on eight.”

  At her captor’s deadly tone, Ariel’s gaze snapped to his.

  “The last time we talked, price was a casual mention, not set in stone.” The drug dealer shrugged and tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. “What are you going to do with all this stuff anyway? It’s useless in this form.”

  The man stepped forward, dragging her with him. His movements slow and precise, he shut the case and snapped the hinges closed. “Eight grand.”

  A high-pitched whining sound drew Ariel’s attention back to the redhead. “You’re more reasonable when we deal in weapons. I said, fourteen.” He held a pulser gun aimed at the tall man’s chest, a stubborn look on his face.

  Her kidnapper’s unreadable expression never changed, but his fingers cinched tighter around her arm. Damn, this can’t be good.

  The bearded man licked his dry, cracked li
ps. “So what’s it gonna be—” He stumbled back and fell, screaming out in pain as he grabbed his upper arm.

  “That’s for trying to gouge me.” Her captor kept his own pulser gun trained on the redhead.

  The man scrambled to his feet, his face contorted in rage. “Sonofabitch! I’m going to kill you—” he yelled as he lifted his weapon toward them and fired off a shot that whizzed in their direction.

  Without losing his grip on her, her captor turned his shoulder. Moving at lightning speed, he’d avoided the shot that would’ve hit him in his chest.

  Shocked at the near miss, she returned her gaze to the drug dealer and saw a black singe dot between the man’s eyes. He crumpled to the floor like a discarded marionette doll.

  “That’s for trying to kill me,” her kidnapper bit out. He released her arm, then lifted the slim briefcase from the table and set it down beside his feet on the floor.

  Ariel looked away from the dead man’s beady, accusing eyes staring back at her. Her heart seized and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Death surrounded her tonight.

  Was she next?

  Pulse thrumming, she pivoted and started to run toward the entrance. She’d only taken a couple of steps when fingers dug into her upper arm and she was jerked to a halting stop. Pain lanced up and down her arm, spreading to the wound in her back.

  Her vision blurred, but she refused to go down easily. She tried to jerk free of his vise hold. “Let. Me. Go!”

  When he aimed his gun at the windows, Ariel’s eyes widened in confusion. Her jaw dropped as he rapidly pinged off bursts from his gun in a circular pattern toward the huge glass panes. She’d never seen anyone move as fast as he did.

  Before she could utter a word, he cut his gaze to the door as if he were waiting for someone and placed himself between her and the entrance.

  “Take a deep breath.” His tone was low and intense, yet his focus remained locked on the doorway they’d just come through a few minutes before.

  Ariel’s “What?” came out more like “Whaaaaat” when he jerked her arm with a strong, ripping force.

  She didn’t have a chance to fathom his intent as her body flew across the room toward the wall of glass. Shrieking, she crossed her arms in front of her face right before her body slammed against the fragile surface.

  The window gave with the impact, and she burst through, her heart rate stuttering. Ariel flailed her arms in a pathetic attempt to save herself, but gravity took over where momentum left off. Her screams of terror turned to frantic pleas for survival.

  I don’t want to die.

  Pulser and traditional gunfire ricocheted inside the building above her right before a huge explosion sent a heat wave full of bits of wood and shards of glass shooting down around her as she barreled toward the water.

  She hit the surface a few seconds before something big displaced the water beside her. Ariel’s vision pixelated to hazy fuzz and then went totally black.

  Chapter 3

  S waying movement jarred Ariel awake. Someone was carrying her. The person smelled of water and outdoors and something she couldn’t place…an elusive, exotic, indescribable scent.

  Pain wracked her body and she whimpered at the sharpness ravaging her. Wet clothes clung to her skin. Her shoulder burned as if someone had set a hot iron to it. She wanted to moan, even heard the sound in her head, but she didn’t have the energy to make the noise.

  “Shhhh, you’re safe.” She rolled closer to the man’s comforting voice, inhaling that appealing scent. When her nose came into contact with soft, wet leather, the distinctive scent brought everything rushing back.

  She hadn’t dreamed a horrible nightmare. She’d lived it.

  Fear took over her mind, a cloud of suffocating black smoke. Her skin prickled and her sluggish pulse began to race. She stiffened and immediately regretted her action as fresh pain lashed through her.

  An involuntary moan escaped. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids wouldn’t obey. “Hurt. So tired.” She rasped the stilted words.

  “Weak, pathetic and vulnerable.” The judgmental words slid from her captor’s lips in a low rumble before he said, “Sleep, Ariel,” and blessed blackness washed over her once more.

  Jachin carried Ariel’s limp body over to his bed and laid her on it. Her long white-blond hair clumped in a wet mass under her head. He spread the damp strands against his navy pillow case. Glass cuts sprinkled her fair skin, while her long lashes lay against the dark shadows under her eyes, making her look even more waiflike.

  He picked up her limp arm and encircled the thin wrist with his fingers. “So tiny and fragile. How are you to be Braeden’s mate?” he murmured as he let her arm slide out of his fingers to fall to the bed.

  Jachin knew he needed to look at her shoulder. He was afraid he might have dislocated it when he sent her through the window.

  Grasping Ariel’s wrist once more, he held her arm out, feeling around her shoulder. Yes, he’d dislocated it, damn it to hell.

  With a quick yank on her arm he reset her shoulder. Her body jerked from pain, but he was glad she didn’t waken.

  Working at an efficient pace, Jachin began to remove her torn, bloody clothes. He wanted to know just how much damage she’d sustained. She needed to be fit to travel as soon as possible.

  The Sanguinas had apparently learned about her book. His vampire clan members would be relentless in their pursuit of Miss Swanson. They’d hunted him and Ariel from the news station to the warehouse. He knew he was on borrowed time.

  Once he’d removed Ariel’s clothes and moved closer to assess the extent of her injuries, her appealing scent of peaches and sugary almonds washed over him. Jachin quickly backed away and focused on her on a business level. Fortunately she didn’t appear to have any glass imbedded in her wounds, but she had a ton of cuts that needed to be closed.

  He sat down beside her on the bed and stuck his index finger in his mouth, then ran the wet tip across the gash on her arm. The tension knotting his shoulders eased when his saliva stopped the bleeding and the wound began to close.

  Jachin continued until all the small wounds on her front side had begun to heal. Gritting his teeth against the erection pressing against his wet pants, he wouldn’t allow himself to acknowledge how soft her skin felt underneath his fingertips or how long he’d been without a woman.

  When he rolled her limp body over and saw the crusted bullet wound, Jachin set his jaw, angry with himself for not noticing she’d been hit earlier. He tried to heal the wound on her shoulder the same way he had her others, but the gash was too wide. It had started to bleed again. If he didn’t close it soon, she’d lose too much blood.

  Stilling himself, he lifted her upper body across his lap and leaned close to sweep his tongue against her cool, pebbled wet skin.

  The taste of dried and fresh blood made his body tense in agonized response.

  Life—the zing he’d been missing.

  Instantly his fangs unsheathed, ready to devour.

  Jachin turned his head away and ground his fangs against his lower lip, hoping the pain would help him regain control over his primal need to feed. He wasn’t done yet. Her wound was deep.

  Tensing his gut, he prepared for the poison to grip his belly in painful knots as he pulled her close and ran his tongue over her wound once more. Fresh blood rushed forth, coating his tongue.

  His stomach twinged, but nausea didn’t overwhelm him. He was a bit stunned but thankful he’d been able to finish his task without poisoning himself. He slowly swiped his tongue along the open wound one last time.

  This time her flavor tasted sweet and nutty, full of erotic promise.

  Heat swept through him, gripping his groin in agonizing waves so strong they rushed over him in throbbing pulses of need.

  Surprised at how good she’d tasted, Jachin rested his chin against her temple and squeezed his eyes shut at the thought that this human’s blood might not be poisoned like all the others. But then, he shouldn’t be s
urprised. He’d been right to take her.

  Something about her was different. The prophecy would be fulfilled and he’d regain his rightful position among the Sanguinas.

  When he opened his eyes, it unsettled him to see he’d instinctively pulled Ariel’s naked body across his lap. The goose bumps he’d felt on her skin earlier had disappeared, turning her flesh smooth and silky underneath his palms.

  Shaking his head at the possessive hold he had on the woman, he straightened his spine and slowly uncurled his fingers from her body. He glanced at her wound, satisfied to see it had begun to close. As he laid her gently on her back, his heart thumped uncharacteristically at a rapid pace.

  Adrenaline due to tonight’s events, he told himself as he stood beside the bed and pulled the thick covers over her shoulders.

  The journey would begin as soon as she woke.

  Ariel awoke to the sound of Sandy Myers’s voice. She kept her eyes shut and listened to the news that had to be coming from a nearby projector.

  “The shootout that led to the kidnapping of debut author Ariel Swanson has stumped law enforcement. Due to the skills the kidnapper possessed, there is speculation that Miss Swanson’s book was more than a work of fiction but indeed based on some truth—that vampires aren’t extinct. From the speed with which he moved to his ability to leap to the top of a building, her kidnapper’s actions were more supernatural in nature.”

  Ariel’s heart jerked at the news. Was Sandy right? Was the man who’d kidnapped her a vampire? Terror gripped her chest, and her throat burned from the stomach acid that quickly rose to the surface.

  No. Her book was supposed to be cathartic. Writing from a bird’s-eye view within the vampire world was supposed to help her see them as more than monsters, a kind of self-help therapy. It wasn’t supposed to lead a vampire wannabe right to her.