The community had been way ready for another easy case like Hannah when number six had come along: sweet-as-chocolate pediatric nurse, Gwyn, who’d immediately taken to the eight Mixed-blood children in Ţărână. Gwyn had definitely been on the road to adjusting well, but ….
Jacken’s stomach wrenched on a pang of regret. No one would ever know how that might’ve turned out.
Gwyn was the only acquisition who’d been stolen by their nasty Om Rău neighbors.
Şarvan had been in charge of guarding Gwyn that fateful day, but the dingus warrior had let himself get distracted flirting with Trinnía, the community hairdresser, who was, granted, a total babe. To add insult, Trinnía was also a fellow Vârcolac, which meant that they’d both been breaking all kinds of fraternization laws with their bonehead actions. Meanwhile, Gwyn had darted off to chase after one of the children who’d headed into Stânga Town, Ţărână’s slum. She’d come too close to the Outer Edge, the main entrance to the Om Rău Hell Tunnels, and been grabbed.
Jacken had fired Şarvan’s ass and tossed the fuckup in jail for a week. But that couldn’t bring Gwyn back. Nothing could. Not when it was impossible for a Vârcolac to enter the extreme heat of the Hell Tunnels.
Losing Gwyn had been Jacken’s worst day as a warrior, not counting those six other days when he’d had to abduct an innocent woman, knowing full well how much he was about to screw up her life. Each time he did that, the part of him that believed in protecting women, not messing them up, suffered a blow. In his mind, there had to be a better way to bring these Dragons into their community, but when he’d questioned Roth privately, his boss had been snappish on the subject.
What would you have us do, Jaċken? Just ask them, like we did with the Travelers? We all know how poorly that turned out.” Roth had flung a hand out. “But, yes, let’s imagine a delegation of our race showing up on a Dragon woman’s doorstep and saying, Excuse me, Miss So-and-So, would you mind giving up, (A) seeing your family on a regular basis, (B) your career objectives, and (C) any love interest you might currently have? And, oh, yes (D) would you also mind living underground, in permanent hiding, so that you might have babies with a vampire? I wonder what she would say? Or, no, perhaps I already know.” Roth exhaled impatiently. “We have to get the women down here to win them, Jacken. There isn’t another way.”
And Roth had the final word in these matters.
Besides, Jacken wasn’t in any position to make demands regarding Ţărână’s way of life, having lived here these last thirty-seven years subject to the generosity of the community. Besides, Roth had a point. People pretty much shut down at the first mention of the V-word, and wouldn’t give them chance one.
So, yeah, now here they were with number seven: recent acquisition, Antoinetta Parthen, doctor of hematology and all-around hot chick.
All Dragons were blonde and incredibly beautiful, a fortunate side-effect of their Dragon bloodlines, but Antoinetta was exceptional. Her hair was a flaxen waterfall streaked with fire flowing just past her shoulders, her eyes sapphire gemstones, and her body was a heart attack, the kind of leggy and busty combination that required a nearby drool cup to handle. On top of that, her scent was … had a …. Jesus, there was an added sweetness to her fragrance that had him working as hard to keep his pants on as his fangs choked back.
She was an unmated female, yeah, and all unmateds gave off a strong scent, a kind of a primitive pheromone which to a Vârcolac male smelled like she’d spritzed herself down with Eau de Screw Me.
Human females were more aromatic than Vârcolac females, and the Dragons were downright heart-stopping. But smelling this woman was like freebasing adrenaline and lust in one big fucking eight ball. He’d bet sweet blood like hers coated the tongue like a velvet orgasm. Squeezing his eyes shut behind his sunglasses, he pictured Antoinetta with her head thrown back, the graceful curve of her throat exposed, inviting him to take his fill. Or the creamy length of her thigh laid bare to him. Yeah, taste her essence, then go straight for the femoral ….
Jacken clenched his teeth, grinding them together until the bones in his head sounded like rocks tumbling down a cliff. He would never taste this woman…not in any way, ever, so he needed to shut his brain the hell up and pay attention. Not that there was anything much to pay attention to. Dr. Antoinetta Parthen had been silent for quite some time now.
He knotted the hands he had clasped behind his back into fists, and looked from Roth, who was seated behind his desk again, to Jess, then over to Antoinetta. The wait was killing him. Damn it, do something already, lady.
And then she did.
To his utter shock, she came out of her chair, snatched a letter opener off the desk, and pointed the nasty end of it at Roth. Jacken stiffened as the expression on her face clicked from shocked horror to hostility as fast as someone pushing the button on a slide show.
“You’ll excuse me if I must decline your invitation, Mr. Mihnea,” she said between gritted teeth. “But having turkey basters filled with “vampire” sperm stuck up inside of me isn’t particularly my idea of a good time.”
Roth looked mortified by the very idea. “I assure you, Doctor, that’s not at all what –”
“Don’t move,” she commanded sharply.
Roth stopped coming to his feet and sat back down, placidly placing both hands palms down on top of his desk. “We have no intention of hurting you.”
“You don’t move, either.” She aimed fierce blue eyes at Jacken, obviously sensing that he was about to go Medieval on her ass. “I know how to use a knife,” she warned, switching her grip on the letter opener with a flip of her wrist, now holding it in perfect throwing position. “And I’m telling you, if you take one step toward me, I’m going to plant this thing in your chest.”
He sneered at her. What a crock of shit. Just because the lady could probably wield a scalpel didn’t mean she could go Kill Bill with any blade she happened to pick up.
“P-please,” Dr. Jess stammered, his face white. “I think everyone just needs to –”
“And that would kill you, right?” She laughed, a bit of hysteria edging the sound.
Well, hell, looked like Jacken was going to get that meltdown he’d been waiting for, after all.
“I mean, you being a ‘vampire’ and all, and this being the proverbial stake in the heart. Or are you a zombie?” She backed up a step, keeping everyone within her sight line. “Maybe The Creature from the Black Lagoon, or – or, wait! – The Terminator. Yes! You look that part, don’t you?”
Roth shot him a droll look. “Well, this is new.”
“Put the letter opener down, now,” Jacken ordered her, pitching his voice to a lethal tone. “If I have to take it from you, Dr. Parthen, I can guarantee you won’t like my methods.” He came out of his stance, his arms swinging forward and his legs spring-coiling in readiness.
Antoinetta let out a startled cry, her eyes widening on his forearm tattoos. “Holy crap! You’re one of those cult freaks!” Leaping at Jess, she seized the doctor by the top of his hair and cranked his head back, setting the tip of the letter opener at his throat.
Jess squeaked in alarm.
Roth roared to his feet as if he’d been goosed in the ass by an ice pick. “No!” he shouted. “Please, I beg you to take care, Dr. Parthen.” He held out a staying hand. “Blood is sacred to us, and if you draw Dr. Jess’s that … that will be an act of claiming him.”
Unfortunately, in her humanness, she couldn’t give Roth’s warning the weight it warranted. “Then I suggest” – she dug in the tip of the opener deeper to emphasize her point – “you unlock that door and let me out of here right now!”
“Dear heavens!” Roth gestured emphatically at Jacken. “Stop her before she does something irrevocable.”
Finally, action. Jacken stepped forward –
It might not be said he could move as fast as a Dragon warrior, but he could definitely get his ass in gear when necessary. Fast enough, at least, to stupefy the hell o
ut of Antoinetta. Her eyes rounded when she found him suddenly standing right in front of her, his fingers wrapped around her weapon hand. Locking eyes with his target, he forcibly pulled the letter opener clear of Jess’s throat.
The doctor scrambled out of the way, smoothing a manicured hand down the front of his silk paisley tie.
Antoinetta’s blue eyes blazed furiously, the heat of her gaze sending blood pounding against Jacken’s temples and into his ears. He applied steady pressure to her hand, but she wouldn’t give up the letter opener. Stupid woman. He twisted her arm down and behind her, then realized his own stupidity when the move brought her jerking up against him, her full breasts squashing into his chest. An electrical charge went through him, a burning heat landing right in his groin.
Antoinetta’s cheeks flushed a brilliant red, the plump softness of her breasts rising and falling unsteadily against the underside of his pecs.
His balls tightened at the feel of her. Her powerful scent tunneled into the ventricles of his brain. A noise came out of him, a deep, guttural something. It rolled up from his gut and rumbled from his chest, sending a warning vibration through his fangs. Antoinetta clearly found the animal quality of it convincing. Her arm went slack. He took the invitation and tugged the letter opener from her grasp, then stepped back and jammed it into his belt. Without missing a beat, he grabbed her by the shoulders, propelled her back over to her chair, and ass-planted her into the seat.
Air spilled out of her in a heavy rush, her cheeks leaching of color as her eyes went stark with fear.
Yeah, he’d guess it was finally sinking into her brain pretty damned firmly that she was completely at their mercy. That part of him that didn’t like to mess up women? It was an all over body-throb.
Easing back into his own chair, Roth gave her a look of genuine regret. “I apologize for the necessity of that, Doctor. We truly don’t want to hurt you.”
She swallowed visibly, casting an apprehensive glance over her shoulder at Jacken.
Roth, ever the peacekeeper, gave him a discreet back-off nod.
Jacken moved out from behind Antoinetta’s chair and took up his usual position next to Roth’s desk.
Roth offered Antoinetta a sympathetic smile. “I understand your fear, I really do, what with all the lore and legend that has traditionally surrounded vampires. Let me unequivocally assure you, doctor, that Vârcolac are not monsters. We’re not undead creatures who sleep in coffins and transform humans with our bites. We can see our reflections in mirrors. We aren’t driven off by garlic or crucifixes, although,” he added dryly, “a sharp object like a letter opener being driven into our hearts will kill us.” Roth let out a sigh. “Those are just hyped-up lies invented by our enemies years ago. We’re quite human, doctor, just a different … species of human, if you will. Look at us and you’ll agree there’re many similarities between our races.” He gestured broadly. “We laugh, we cry, we –”
“Suck blood?” The question was asked in no more than a whisper.
Jacken nearly rolled his eyes. Guaranteed she was imagining some pasty-faced fiend swooping down on her and plunging stalactite-looking fangs into her neck. Dracula 101 crap all the way.
“That ….” Roth cleared his throat. “Yes. That’s something we do. We call it feeding, but we don’t do it for any sinister purpose, rather because of a limitation to our physiology, that blood-need I described earlier. It’s a weakness, certainly, as is our inability to go out into the sunlight; we’re severely allergic to vitamin D, I’m afraid. But our breed also has many strengths. We’re physically stronger than regular humans, we can move faster, and our senses are more highly attuned in many areas. Can you imagine the benefits we could’ve brought to the human race had we been allowed to do so? What kind of soldiers we would’ve made, or detectives or researchers or –”
“Please, Mr. Mihnea.” She held up a hand. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe any of this. I’m a scientist, and none of what you’re saying fits in with my knowledge of how the world works.”
“Ah, yes.” Roth stood up and strode around to her. “People of science tend to need concrete proof. I remember that with Ellen, our dentist.” He settled his hip on the edge of the desk, gesturing at the blood graph and photo next to him. “Something more tangible than these, I imagine?”
“No. I – Really. I’d just like for us to agree to accept our differences and go our separate ways.”
Roth looked over at Jacken as if she hadn’t spoken. “Where are Dr. Parthen’s mate-choices at present?”
Jacken glanced down at his watch. “In the gym training.”
“Excellent. They’re right down the hall. Jess, my good man, would you mind bringing them here?” Roth smiled. “I believe now would be a good time for Dr. Parthen to meet her future husband.”
Chapter Seven
Somewhere along the way, Toni’s brain had come unplugged. There wasn’t much going on inside her mind except a lot of white noise, backed by a repetitive holy crapping chant which seemed to be caught in an endless loop. No grand plans about how to get herself out of this disaster, that was for damned sure.
Okay, time to regroup. Line up her thoughts into a manageable row.
Right. The main thing was to Stay Calm. Panicking could only lead her into more acts of stupidity, like threatening three men who were in top-notch condition – one who looked to be set on permanent wanna-kick-your-ass mode – with little more than a letter opener. Not the best of ideas.
Behaving idiotically wasn’t her usual style, but in her own defense, this was the first time a group of individuals had drugged her, kidnapped her, told her they wanted to use her as a brood mare because she was a “dragon,” and then claimed to be “vampires.” Uh huh. Here’s what was really happening; she’d woken up on the TV show Scare Tactics, and any minute now Shannen Doherty was going to jump out and jeer, “Ha, ha, you fell for it, you boob.” See, because the last she’d checked, there was, you know, no such thing as vampires.
She fidgeted in her chair, her fingers flexing and releasing around the armrests. Okay, door number two, Bob. This wasn’t a reality TV hoax. She was being held hostage by a bunch of schizoid delusional freaks who appeared to have formed a cult – or, ahem, “community” – for all of their schizoid delusional followers. Oh, God …. Her throat shut off. A cult. What she wouldn’t give to go back to these guys being Mafia.
The moment she’d seen the tattoos on that Jacken creature’s forearms was pretty much the moment her self-control had gone bye-bye. The marks were almost exactly the same as the tattoo she’d seen on that corpse’s jaw the night of the crime scene, although Jacken’s were more like black interlocking lines, rather than flames… no, not lines: long, swooping teeth of the kind on a saber-toothed tiger. Seeing them had instantly filled her mind with nightmare images of having her skin stripped off her body in a ritual satanic killing.
Tension coiled across her shoulders as she tried to imagine what these sickos planned on doing to her. The possibilities, especially those of a sexually deviant nature, were endless. Just her luck that she’d ended up being kidnapped, not just into some vampire cult, but into a vampire sex cult.
“Ah, here they come.” Roth rose smoothly to his feet at the sound of male voices approaching. He pushed a button and the double doors buzzed open.
Dr. Jess reentered with three men trailing him, a blond, a brunette, and a black-haired one.
She came stiffly out of her own chair, schooling her face into an indifferent expression. The last thing she’d wanted from her challenge of Roth’s claims of vampirism was a meet-and-greet with the “vampires” she was expected to do the nasty with. Whatever concrete proof he planned to show her using them, she didn’t even want to try and imagine.
The three drew up in front of her, and only her years trained in the art of keeping bad diagnoses from her face allowed her to deadpan her reaction to them, because, Jesus, they were all ridiculously gorgeous.
To a man, they had phy
siques to die for, their powerful builds only enhanced by the dark workout gear they were wearing. Each was dressed in black wrestling shoes, a black lycra T-shirt, and black shorts styled after Calvin Klein boxer-briefs. The trim cut of the shorts emphasized each man’s … er, potency in a manner that gave the impression of straining seams and near-popping front laces.
Heat crept into Toni’s cheeks, and she forced her eyes away. How long had it been since she’d had sex, that she’d be staring goggle-eyed at the packages of men who were no better than Jim Jones wannabes?
Roth set right to the explanation of how matters stood. “Dr. Parthen and I have been discussing some of the distinctive traits of our breed, but, as one might expect, she’s having a bit of difficulty accepting the authenticity of everything without some proof. Ergo, I thought this might be a good opportunity for her to meet all of you and familiarize herself with your unique qualities.”
“Familiarize?” The blond, who had enough innate sex appeal to melt iron, despite some fading bruises on his throat and bloodshot eyes, cocked a single brow. “You mean, like … she wants to give us a medical examination?”
“Works for me.” The one with black hair, matching goatee, and a small Bad Boy gold hoop earring dangling from his left earlobe, glanced around the room. “Where do you want us to undress?”
Her face burned hotter. “I don’t think –”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Roth jumped in.
“Cut the shit, Nichita,” Jacken snapped.
“Yes, sir.” Bad Boy winked at her.
“You see, Dr. Parthen, there are different breeds of Vârcolac,” Roth explained, “within the entirety of the species, and each one has an extraordinary ability.” He laid a hand on Bad Boy’s shoulder. “Devid Nichita here can –”
“Excuse me, but please, it’s Dev,” Bad Boy corrected. “I hate Devid.”
The Community Series, Books 1-3 Page 6
