“It’s over. Neither one of us had a choice.” Her eyes were cold and calm now. This was the woman who was brave enough to fight the guard. “He’ll pay. I’m going to rip his balls off.”
“No. I’ll rip them off. One at a time. We have to find a way out of here.” The guard wouldn’t be satisfied now. He would want more.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and they heard the frantic voice of the guard.
“Master, I didn’t expect you back this soon.”
The master appeared around the corner, his long black hair and face bonny as a lass’s.
The prisoner heard Anna gasp. “Tristol!”
CHAPTER SIX
ANNA JUMPED TO her feet, adrenaline flooding her body as she stared at the ancient demon. Every warrior knew Tristol’s name and his face—although he looked a little different than the pictures, more human—but Anna had never seen him in person. Where most demons were hideous, Tristol was beautiful.
He was rarely spotted. Faelan had been the last known warrior to see him, along with the other three demons who comprised the mysterious League of Demons. That was back in 1860 when Druan locked Faelan in the time vault. What was Tristol doing here? The prisoner had also moved, placing his body between her and Tristol.
This must be Tristol’s fortress. Did he know that vampires were sneaking around the place? Or had he invited them? It was beginning to look as if the demons and vampires were working together.
Tristol moved closer, his movements so smooth she hardly saw him step. “Who brought her?” he asked the guard, his voice deadly quiet.
The guard shrank back. “She sneaked in, master.”
“Sneaked in? The place is cloaked.”
“I know, master. That’s why I didn’t kill her. I figured you would want to know how she got here. I think she’s a warrior. She wears one of those necklaces.”
Tristol walked closer to the cell. He was tall, stunning, his body graceful but full of power. His eyes were dark as sin. A curl of something dark and sweet rolled through Anna, numbing her shock and fear. She wanted to move closer, to feel his presence. She grabbed the prisoner’s hand and felt him flinch when she touched the broken finger. She softened her grip.
Tristol’s gaze hadn’t left Anna. “That’s because she is a warrior. The most powerful female warrior in the clan. Hello, Anna.”
“You know me?” Anna was surprised. Rumor had it that Tristol was the Dark One’s favorite demon. What would he know about her?
“Of course I know you. May I ask how you breeched my fortress?”
Anna stepped beside the prisoner. She could feel the tension in his body. She held tight to his hand as she fought Tristol’s pull. “I followed one of the guards here.”
“It was Lance, master,” the guard said from behind Tristol.
“He wasn’t supposed to leave,” Tristol said.
“I told him that,” the guard said nervously, “but he had some errands. If you know the truth of it, I don’t trust him.”
Tristol glanced at the guard. “Did you kill him?”
The guard shuffled nervously. “No. I thought you’d want to question him too.”
“I do. Tell me, Anna, where you saw my guard.”
“Let us out and I’ll tell you.”
Tristol laughed, his perfect white teeth glistening.
Anna felt the pull again. It was bizarre to have a demon affect her this way. She hated demons. She was born to hunt and kill them.
“I can’t do that,” Tristol said.
The prisoner was staring at Tristol, muscles tensed. “What do you want with us?” he asked.
The ancient demon studied the pair. His gaze moved from their faces to their linked hands. “I need your help.”
“Our help? That’s why you’ve been torturing me.”
“Torture?” Tristol turned on the guard. “I told you to test him, not torture.”
The guard backed up. “He’s exaggerating, master.”
“Does this look like an exaggeration?” Anna asked, glancing at the prisoner, whose bruised face and bloodstained clothing gave testament to his treatment. “You should see his back.”
“That’s because he tried to escape,” the guard said.
“Liar,” the prisoner said.
Tristol was very still. So still it made Anna afraid. The guard was shaking in his boots. Tristol turned toward him, whispered something, and left.
The guard stood in front of the prisoner’s cell, his manner docile. “Time for another trip.”
The prisoner’s body tensed. “Move back and be quiet,” he whispered to Anna, and then he stepped away from her, toward the door.
“Not you,” the guard said. “Her. Let’s go.”
“No,” the prisoner whispered. He gripped Anna’s hand so hard it hurt. “No!”
The guard opened the cell and took out his gun. “Now.”
The prisoner kept his body between Anna and the door. “No. Take me.”
The guard pointed his gun at Anna. “Get out of the way, or I’ll shoot her. You think she’d be just as pretty missing a finger or a toe? Maybe an ear.”
Anna pulled her hand free and touched the prisoner’s arm. “Please.” If he didn’t stop, they would hurt him again. She was afraid he couldn’t withstand another beating. “I’m coming.” You fat toad. She went to the door and slipped out. The guard locked it as the prisoner rattled the bars.
“Take me!” he roared. “You bloody bastard.”
“Not this time,” the guard said.
The minute Anna stepped outside, she turned on the guard. She spun and kicked him in the crotch. He doubled over, and Anna lunged for his gun, but the guard quickly recovered and jumped out of reach, pointing the weapon at her head.
“Stop,” the prisoner pleaded.
Anna took her eyes off the angry guard and looked at the prisoner. His eyes were desperate. “Don’t fight him. He’ll make it worse. I beg you.”
She clenched her jaw and let the guard march her toward the torture room. She glanced back and saw the prisoner pulling against the bars.
Tristol watched from the shadows as the warrior tried to bend the cell bars. His muscles bulged, and one of the bars gave. Magnificent. Tristol smiled. This was what he wanted to harness. Even brutalized—and the guard would pay for taking it too far—the warrior was powerful and fiercely loyal. He would fight to the death for Anna. Both were characteristics Tristol hoped to breed into his vampires.
And Anna was a surprise. A pleasant one. She had a body and face that would bring human males to their knees. Tristol wasn’t usually attracted to human females, but this was the closest he’d gotten to Anna, and he had to admit that she was one of the most stunning of any species that he’d seen. Even imprisoned, with her gown torn and dirty, she exuded beauty, power, and grace. But that beauty was wrapped in fury now. If not for the gun, the guard would already be dead instead of nursing sore balls.
Both warriors would have to be moved. Tristol didn’t trust the bars or his guards now. It was obvious that Bart was lying. He would pay for abusing the experiments. Lance would pay too. It was time to take charge of this experiment. The outcome was too important to let anything stand in the way, even the Dark One’s frequent summons, which were interfering with Tristol’s plans.
The breeding plan had been twofold. Feed his vampires some of Faelan’s blood to strengthen them and then breed the warrior with his most powerful female vampire. If the outcome was successful, he would gather more warriors. He hadn’t planned to use female warriors yet, since they couldn’t produce as many children as quickly. But since Anna was already here, why waste the opportunity? He would breed her with one of his male vampires. There was no one quite like Anna. No one with her pedigree, though she didn’t realize it. He had only discovered it himself recently. If he could combine her strength
and prowess with that of his strongest male vampire, the results could have great potential.
A roar sounded down the corridor, and Tristol had a brilliant idea. His hybrid had some vampire blood, but was still mostly human. Tristol hadn’t been able to determine his ability to reproduce since the hybrid killed all the female vampires as soon as they were brought to him. There was more warrior blood in him than vampire blood. Perhaps he would recognize Anna as a fellow warrior and not kill her. With Anna’s genetics and the hybrid’s, a child born to them could prove to have extraordinary abilities. If the plan succeeded, then he would give her to his best male vampire. Or keep her for himself.
He hadn’t created his own offspring because a child could become a weak link. Most ancient demons avoided procreating for the same reason. The other demons would use the child against the father. Especially in his case. All demons were bitterly jealous of his position. But two of the League were gone. After Voltar was destroyed, Tristol would have greater freedom to pursue his goals.
In a black mist, he moved to the cell where the warrior was still struggling to break free. “Calm yourself,” he said to the warrior. He didn’t want him injuring himself to get to Anna.
The warrior had no choice but to stop moving, but his face was still filled with rage. Along with the swelling, he made a frightening sight.
“Sleep. You will need your rest.”
The warrior tried to fight it, but his eyelids started to droop, and he leaned against the wall.
“Sleep,” Tristol said again, and when the warrior slumped to the floor, he went to catch up with the guard and Anna.
Anna wanted to rip the guard into pieces. She was considering giving it another go when Tristol appeared in front of them. She stopped in surprise. Where had he come from? Again, she felt the compelling pull and had to force herself to stand still.
“Change of plans. Put her back there,” he said, nodding deeper into the dungeon.
“But he’s—”
“Yes. Exactly.”
The guard’s look of surprise didn’t bode well with Anna. When she glanced back at Tristol, he was gone, as if he’d simply vanished. She wasn’t aware of any demons with that ability.
“Let’s go then,” the guard said.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To see him.” He gave her a cruel smile.
Him? Surely he didn’t mean the hybrid. “Are you taking me to the hybrid?”
“You know about him?”
“I heard you talking. What is he?”
“You’ll see.” He sneered at her. “And he’ll probably be the last thing you see. The other women didn’t last ten minutes with him. And they were special.” The guard sniffed Anna. “You smell good. Really good. Maybe he’ll like you.”
“Get your nose away from me or I’ll break it.”
“Let’s see if you talk that tough after he’s finished with you.”
The hybrid must be part of the breeding plan. God no.
Anna considered her options. The guard was out of reach. If she attacked him, he’d probably shoot her. Even if he didn’t, if she managed to kill him, Tristol would come after her. He was probably watching now. She’d never seen anyone move with such stealth. She couldn’t attack Tristol without being assigned. That would be instant death. And Tristol would take out his anger on the prisoner.
The only thing she could do was wait for a better opportunity. Where? In a locked cell? Piss-poor options. Better than dying now and leaving the prisoner alone in this hellhole.
The guard forced her down the long, dark corridor. They paused at a doorway blocked by iron bars. The guard pushed a lever, and the bars lifted.
Lance appeared behind them. “What are you doing here?”
The guard paused, repositioning the gun at Anna’s head. “Taking her to him.”
Lance seemed surprised. “He’s going to breed her?”
Anna’s throat tightened. The other man she’d felt in the cell when she woke up must have been the hybrid. He hadn’t killed her then, or done anything worse. Maybe he wouldn’t this time.
“She’ll probably be killed like the others,” the guard said. “Why are you here? The master is looking for you.”
“Tristol’s servant had a question for you. I can take this one if you want to go.”
The guard looked hesitantly at Anna. “Hell, she’ll die anyway,” he muttered. He handed Lance the gun and hurried away.
Lance’s helpful expression faded the minute the guard left. “Just you and me now,” he said, pressing the gun to her head. She felt a sting in her arm.
“What was in that needle?” she asked, rubbing the spot. Had he drugged her or poisoned her?
“Something to keep you from fighting back. When he’s finished with you, you won’t be talking to anyone.” Lance laughed and steered her several more yards toward a thick iron door. “Step back.”
Anna debated whether she could take him. He wasn’t as strong as the fat guard, but he had the gun, and the drug was already kicking in.
He unlocked the door and shoved her inside. “Good riddance,” he said, slamming the door.
She pressed herself close to the door and reached for her talisman, forgetting it was gone. She searched the shadows of the dark room. There wasn’t even a sconce here. Slowly she made out shapes in the dark. A sink, like the one in her cell, and a toilet, a bench. This one even had a bed. And someone was in it. A sound came from the bed, something between a growl and a cry.
She stayed near the door, fists clenched, ready for an attack. But her legs were already wobbling from the drugs Lance had given her. This would probably be her last fight. Images raced through her mind. People she loved. The people she considered her family—Angus, Ronan, Faelan, Duncan, even irritating Brodie with his pranks. And the women. She’d never been close to women, only Sorcha, until Bree and Shay. Then there were the people she hated—like her father. You didn’t have to know someone to hate them. And lastly, the prisoner. She couldn’t leave him alone with these monsters. He was powerful, but he was hurt.
The figure on the bed sat up. The next minute he had her by the throat. Nothing could move that fast except a vampire. He—she could tell by his size and smell he was a male—stood close, sniffing her. A burst of adrenaline cut through the fog of the drug. Lifting her arms between his, she jabbed him under the chin and shoved his chest. She didn’t have any weapons to pierce his heart or remove his head, so she went for his groin, hoping vampires had balls to go with their fangs. But he was too quick and jerked back. She glimpsed dark hair and white teeth, but no fangs.
She only saw his face for a moment. In the time it took her to blink, he flipped her over and lifted her gown. Not again. But he’d stopped. His hands were running over her battle marks. Then he leaned over her, close as a lover, and put his head next to hers. He sniffed her. Anna stayed still and tried to think how to get out of this. She would die before she let him rape her. The prisoner was different. She felt something for him. He’d been kind…and gentle.
Slowly the hybrid rose, pulling her with him. He sniffed her again as his fingers dragged along her skin, brushing her hair off her cheek. She heard a short, hard exhale, the sound loaded with shock. “I know you,” he whispered.
And she knew his voice. But he was supposed to be dead.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DYING MAN pulled in another shallow, wet breath. “You have to protect it. Swear you’ll protect it.”
“I swear,” the prisoner said, watching the man’s life fade from his eyes.
The prisoner woke with a start. He was in the cell, not in a forest with a bleeding, dying man. Anna! He jumped to his feet and stumbled to the cell door. He was dizzy, his legs weak. Bloody potions. He put his foot against one bar and wedged his back against the wall, pushing with all his strength. His legs shook too badly to do much goo
d. Curse the bastards. Curse them all. His eyes blurred as the guard appeared, carrying the woman. She wasn’t moving. Was she dead?
“I’m surprised you can stand after I drugged you.” The guard bent down and laid her on the floor outside the cell.
“What have you done to her?” The prisoner knelt and put his arm through the bar he’d bent. Her hand was still warm.
“You’ve bent the bars,” the guard grumbled. “You’ll have to be moved. Stay back.”
“What are you doing?”
“If you want her in there with you, then move away from the door.”
He stood and moved out of the way. The guard unlocked the door and dumped Anna inside. The prisoner couldn’t attack with his legs weak as twine and Anna injured. He knelt and put his ear to her breast. Her heartbeat was strong. She was just unconscious. What had they done to her? He checked her over. No cuts or bruises anywhere that could be seen. Did he dare look elsewhere? He settled instead for running his hands over her. No blood, but she moaned and started to shiver.
Gently, he picked her up and carried her to the corner where his blanket lay. Cradling her head, he laid her down on the blanket and sank to the floor beside her. When he was situated, he lifted her onto his lap, holding her against his chest, and covered them both with the blanket. She shivered against him, but in minutes, he felt her skin growing warmer.
They hadn’t beaten her, but the guard might have assaulted her. At least she was alive.
Her eyes opened, wide with alarm, and her body tensed.
“It’s all right,” he said, loosening his hold.
“You,” she mumbled, and sank back against him. He pulled her closer. Her body was limp. The guard must have given her a potion too.
From somewhere in the dungeon, the other prisoner roared, but this time it sounded different. Lonely. They had to find a way out before the guard took her again. But his eyelids were drooping.
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