If she hadn’t already been tied up with a bag over her head, she would have run for the voice, pushing between people, trying to locate whoever it belonged to. Because she somehow knew it did belong to someone. She hadn’t imagined it. Though the voice had sounded in her head, she knew she picked up on it from someone who was very real, and, as every second passed, that person was getting further and further away. The distance made her want to weep. It felt as though she’d had a lifeline dangled in front of her and someone had snatched it away.
Right now, however, there was nothing she could do to find the person the voice belonged to. She prayed it wouldn’t be the last time she heard it. If it was, she thought she might end up spending the rest of her life searching for it. Of course, the way things were currently going, she wasn’t sure the rest of her life would amount to much anyway. She might end up dead within the next hour.
As well as the dull thud of a bass, she caught the whiff of old rubbish, and the ground appeared to be damp underfoot—she could catch sight of it from beneath the bottom of the bag. The stale stink of old beer—something she recognised from one of her jobs working in a bar, where she had to empty out the drip trays from beneath the beer taps. Yes, she’d definitely been brought to a bar or a club of some sort, though she had no idea why. What did these people want from her? She hated feeling so goddamned helpless.
Rough hands pushed her forward, and Lauren staggered on. With her hands tied behind her back and her face covered, she was terrified she was going to trip and fall. She wouldn’t be able to put her hands out to protect herself if she did.
Ahead of her, a door opened with a click, and the thump of the music immediately grew louder. It wasn’t loud enough to make her think she was being ushered into the main part of the club, however. The music was still muffled, though not as much as before. The observation only gave her a little comfort. She didn’t want to think what sort of club she’d be going into if they thought it was okay to push someone who was bound and with a bag over her head right into the middle of it. No, they must have brought her through the back way.
Lauren tried to take in everything as best she could, constantly alert for the first opportunity to try to escape. Her feet hadn’t been tied, so she considered trying to make a run for it, but she knew she wouldn’t get far. She couldn’t see where she was going, and her hands were bound. They’d catch her in an instant.
The hands on her arms roughly pulled her to a halt. She sensed a second door opening and was pushed though. It grew quieter again, only her heavy breathing, and the footsteps around her. They stopped once more, and she heard the sharp knock of knuckles on wood. Then a male voice with a deep timbre called, “Come,” and she was pushed through the door and into whatever fate held for her.
“Everything went smoothly?” the same deep voice asked of her captors.
“As smoothly as it could have gone.”
“No one saw you?”
“No. Not a soul.”
The deep voice again. “Good.”
“This one will go for a good price. Can you smell it?”
Alarm shot through her. Price? Smell it? What the hell were they talking about? Was this some kind of weird kink? Oh, God. Was she about to be sold into the sex industry? She’d heard of people trafficking but had always assumed it happened to young, foreign women somewhere remote. Not in the middle of London.
In front of her, the man with the deep voice inhaled, long and deep. “Ah, yes, you’re right. I can. Good job.”
She heard the smirk in the other man’s voice. “You know I have a good nose for these things. She’s going to get us a pretty penny. Considering the ... special circumstances ... I think I should be able to renegotiate my cut?”
“No. You’ll be paid the same as before.”
“I want forty percent this time, not thirty.”
“You’ll get the thirty, just like every time before.”
“You won’t be seeing any more like this one from me, then.”
A cold laugh. “There are hardly any more like this one even alive. And if they are, they’re certainly a lot better protected.”
Lauren’s mind swam. What the hell were they talking about? It didn’t feel as though the men were discussing her, though she knew they were. Special? She wasn’t special—far from it. Her own mother certainly hadn’t thought so, so she couldn’t see why anyone else would. But now wasn’t the time to start reminiscing about her lack of parentage. The only thing she could think was that they had the wrong person. Maybe they’d been expecting one of the other girls at the hostel to make an appearance, and she’d been taken by mistake?
“Please,” she managed, hating the begging tone of her voice. She also hated that she wasn’t able to see the people she was addressing, as though, by having her eyes covered, she existed in a different realm than the men who’d taken her. “This is all a big mistake. I think you’ve got the wrong person. If you just let me go, I won’t say anything about what happened here. We can all go on our way. No harm done.”
Men like these didn’t just let people go. Deep down, she knew that. They’d be more likely to kill her and be done with it than take the risk of putting her back on the streets, only for her to report what had happened. Still, her survival instincts meant she had to try. She’d been through a lot in her life, and she’d never given up, whatever had happened. She was a fighter, and she’d continue to be a fighter right through to the bitter end.
The men ignored her.
“Take off that bag,” the one with the deep voice instructed. “I want to make sure the face matches that tight little body, and the scent of the blood running through it.”
His words made her want to weep. The idea of sex was bad enough, but why was he talking about her blood?
But to her relief, the hood was pulled off her face. Lauren blinked against the sudden glare of light, her eyes watering, unable to see anything clearly for a few moments. But then her vision cleared and she was able to look around. She was in an office—well decorated, all leather and chrome, with a large desk and a couple of expensive looking couches. She was standing in the middle of the room, two men at her shoulders, and a third standing at the front of his desk, leaning back in a casual stance that went well against her own situation.
Her eyes widened at the sight of him. She knew this man, recognised him from earlier in the day.
The man whose wallet she’d stolen.
Lauren knew this was no accident. She hadn’t just been unlucky or at the wrong place at the wrong time. She’d been taken deliberately. They’d known what sort of person she’d steal from, what time and place she’d be.
Someone had planned for this.
The question was—why?
Chapter 5
Nikolai couldn’t keep still. He paced the floors of his penthouse, feeling the tug of need deep within him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ivan demanded. “I haven’t seen you acting like this since I first turned you.”
He shook his head. “Honestly, I have no idea. One minute, I was just sitting there, thinking how the last person in the world I’d ever want to do business with was Deacon Thorn, and the next, all I could think about was blood.”
Ivan frowned. “It hit you that fast?”
He nodded. “I don’t know how else to explain it. It was as though something took over me, and I couldn’t control it. All I could think about was the thump of the pulses of all the humans in the club, and I knew the only thing that would quench my thirst was sinking my fangs into a sweet, young neck.”
Just the thought caused his fangs to lengthen again, and he clamped his hand over his mouth. Shit, what the hell was going on with him?
But Ivan had stopped and was staring at him. “What did you just say?”
“Sorry? I said that I wanted to bite a young neck.”
He wound his finger through the air in a rewind motion. “No, before that. You said the only thing that would quench your thirst ...”
Nikolai threw both hands up in the air. “So?”
“I think I know what happened to you. Have you ever heard of The Thirst?”
He frowned, thinking. “I don’t think so.”
“There have been a number of cases in American recently. I hadn’t heard of it reaching the UK yet, but I’m starting to think it might have.”
Nikolai stared at him. “Would you tell me what the fuck you are talking about?”
“The Thirst makes the vampire it’s affected lose control of their normally in-check desires to feed and fuck humans. All humans. But especially those young, beautiful ones.”
What Ivan was describing was exactly how he’d felt at the club—like he no longer was able to control what made him a vampire. But there was one thing Ivan hadn’t mentioned yet.
He lifted a finger in the air. “But what about the smell?”
Ivan frowned. “What smell?”
“The magnificent nectar I caught a hint of as you were dragging me out of there. It was like nothing I’d ever smelled before. All I wanted was to be near it.”
Ivan’s fingers went to his mouth, rubbing his lips. His gaze was on Nikolai’s face, examining him as though he were a new species he’d recently discovered. “I haven’t heard any reports of a scent like that being linked to The Thirst. Having a heightened sense of smell for the location of fresh blood, yes, but not like what you’ve described.”
“It was as though it was calling to me, pulling me in. I recognised it like you might recognise the smell of your own home, or a blanket from childhood, or your mother’s skin.” It had been a long time since Nikolai had smelled any of those things, but he still remembered how it had been.
His maker pursed his lips. “I can’t help wondering if the two things are actually unconnected.”
“What do you mean?”
“That it’s just coincidence you caught that scent at the same time The Thirst hit.”
Nikolai’s tone grew hard. “What’s the scent, Ivan?”
“It sounds to me like you picked up the scent of your Bloodmate.”
“My Bloodmate?” He sought his mind for what that meant. “You mean the one person who is destined to be my mate?” He almost laughed at the idea. “That’s preposterous!”
“Is it? Why?”
“Because a vampire having a Bloodmate is a fable. A fairytale. It’s like a human claiming they met their one true love, and knew it the moment they laid eyes on each other.”
“Love at first sight, you mean?”
“Yes, exactly!” Nikolai stared at him, and then burst out with laughter. “So this is love at first smell?”
Ivan’s lips twitched with amusement, but then tightened again. “This isn’t a laughing matter, Nikolai. If The Thirst really has taken hold of you, it will only get worse. This Bloodmate may be your answer, however. If you find her, she’ll be able to help you.”
The laughter died from his lips. “How?”
“She’ll be able to quell the rage inside you. You’ll find peace in her arms. I’m afraid, if you don’t find her, there may only be one future for you.”
“Which is?” he prompted.
“You will eventually lose control, and then you’ll be too dangerous to be allowed to live. You’ll massacre any and every human you come across, so The Directive will eventually be forced to step in and end your life.”
Nikolai could barely believe what he was hearing. “This is insane.”
He started to pace, walking the breadth of his apartment, the windows overlooking the London skyline, which normally brought peace to his soul, tonight failing to do so. But even though only an hour or so had passed since he’d fed off that poor girl—the first human he’d fed from directly in decades—already he could feel the tightening of his throat, and the fizz of the blood in his veins as the need to feed struck him again.
But morning was coming, and even if he wanted to feed again, he was unable to. He was also unable to go back to the club right away and try to track down whoever the scent belonged to. Even if she wasn’t his Bloodmate, he still wanted to know.
“I need to go back to the club,” he growled.
Ivan lifted his eyebrows. “You think they’ll let you anywhere near that place after the performance you gave? If it wasn’t so obvious you were out of your mind, I’d be pretty fucking furious with you myself right now. You’ve totally screwed things up for me and Kira.”
“The wolf’s daughter? I don’t know how you can stand to be around a wolf in the first place, never mind fuck one.” He wrinkled his nose at the thought.
“Kira is only half wolf, and to me she smells great.” His tone lowered to a growl. “Not that her father is going to let me anywhere near her now.”
“She’s a grown woman, isn’t she? Can’t she make up her own mind about who she dates?”
“You know what these wolves are like. It’s all family, family, family. They care so much about the pecking order, I wonder if they even have minds of their own.”
Nikolai lifted an eyebrow. “And yet you want to get involved with one of them?”
“I already am involved with one of them. And it wasn’t a choice. Sometimes, we don’t get to choose who we fall for. Maybe you’ll understand that more after you find your Bloodmate.”
Nikolai’s lips twisted. “Hmm, I’m not so sure about that. But I do want to find whoever’s scent I picked up on. I don’t totally understand what’s happening yet, but I know I feel different, and I know the vampire back in that club, who attacked that girl, wasn’t the same vampire I normally am. If I have to go and try to find this ... Bloodmate ... then that’s exactly what I’ll do, whether Deacon Thorn likes it or not.”
But for now he had no choice but to sleep. Morning was almost here, and, unlike ancient vampires, he was unable to walk in the light. The sun drove him to his coffin-like bedroom for the day.
He just hoped whoever the scent belonged to would still be at the club once the sun had gone down again.
Chapter 6
Lauren was locked up in a cellar beneath the club.
It was cold and dank, with that same stink of stale beer that she hated. The men had left her hands tied, but at least they hadn’t put the bag back over her head. It was a small thing to be thankful for, but right now it was all Lauren had.
From their conversation, she got the gist of things. She’d been taken because she was going to be sold. Her life was no longer her own. The men seemed to think there was something special about her, though she had no idea what.
No amount of screaming or yelling had made any difference. She looked around the cellar, trying to spot something she might be able to use as a weapon, but there was nothing. It was just a cold, dark hole, locked from the outside world by a metal barred gate.
She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, trying not to get lost in the void of despair that faced her as she pictured what her future might hold. She didn’t want to think about it, but at the same time, she knew she had to. If she was going to get out of this alive, she needed to face up to what might be about to happen in order for her to see a way out of it.
Her thoughts went to the voice she’d heard in her head as she’d been brought here. Had she been imagining things? Had the amount of stress she was under pushed her towards some kind of psychotic break? And yet it had felt so real, as though someone had been calling to her, pulling her in. She’d taken comfort in it, even though deep down she knew it couldn’t have been real.
Lauren didn’t want to cry but could feel the need burning at the backs of her eyes.
How long had she been sitting down here? It felt like hours. Her backside ached from sitting on the cold, hard floor, and she hurt all over from where she’d thrown herself around in the boot of the car. She’d passed the time by pacing, and, when she grew too tired, she sat back down again. Her head dropped to her chin, and she jerked it back up, not wanting to fall asleep. Sleeping would make her vulnerable, and she didn’t like t
hat, but she was also exhausted. Night must have passed by now, which meant she was into the next day, and still no one had come for her. Was that because they needed to move her, and knew they’d be better off doing so under the cover of night? Yes, that must be it. She didn’t want to think about where she’d be going next. Would they try to get her out of the country, or would she at least be sold to someone who lived in England?
She hoped so. It was a small thing to hope for, but at least then she might stand some chance of escape. She had her wits about her and knew how everything worked in the UK. All she’d need to do was make a run for it at the first opportunity, or just get to a phone or computer and call the police. If she ended up somewhere strange and unknown, and not being able to speak the language, she didn’t know what she’d do. That thought terrified her more than anything.
From somewhere down the long, low-ceilinged corridor, she heard footsteps and the clang of metal.
Lauren jumped to her feet.
The footsteps got louder as they came towards her, loud and hollow in the confined space. A bright light flicked on in the corridor outside, and two shapes came to a halt outside the bars of her prison. Her eyes took a moment to adjust, but then she saw it was the same two men who’d taken her. No, that wasn’t right. Lurking behind them was the bearded third man, staying in the shadows as though he didn’t want to be seen.
“We brought you something,” the first man said. He held up what looked to be a dry cleaning bag.
What the fuck?
“I don’t want anything you have to give me,” she snarled.
The man unzipped the front, revealing a ball gown style dress in the deepest red. It would look amazing against her dark hair and golden skin, though she wasn’t about to tell them that. Besides, she didn’t do dresses. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d worn one—it must have been when she was a child. Certainly not since she’d run away from home. Living on the streets and pretty dresses didn’t exactly go hand in hand.
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