Tristol watched the young male drag the screaming woman through the veil that cloaked the fortress. The boy knew they weren’t allowed to feed here unless the human was one of theirs. If the fortress was discovered by humans, he would have to move it again. If the underworld found it, there would be hell to pay. He was too close to accomplishing his goal to worry about moving.
He needed four things now. His breeding plan, the Book of Battles, the emerald, and the death of Voltar. Tristol would prefer the warriors kill Voltar so he didn’t have to hide it from the Dark One, but if the warriors failed he would do it himself. Everything was falling into place. He would not allow a reckless youth to ruin his plans now.
He shifted into a black mist and rushed at the pair. The young male vampire turned at the last second, his eyes wide with horror as Tristol materialized in front of him. His face went even paler than it had been.
“You know the rules.” Tristol searched his memory for the man’s name. “Philip, you were told never to bring anyone here. We have humans on site for the job. If you need to feed otherwise, you must do it discreetly outside of this place.”
“I’m sorry, master. It won’t happen again.”
“No. It won’t.” Tristol knocked Philip out before draining his blood, and then he turned to the human, who had fainted. When he was finished with both, he left them there and continued to the house. Philip’s parents would not be happy. He was their only son. It was unfortunate, for vampires were too few, but secrecy was crucial. His plan could not be compromised now. Tristol’s personal servant, Joseph, met him at the door. He trusted his servant more than anyone.
“There are two bodies near the veil,” Tristol said. “Dispose of them.”
“Yes, master.” He handed Tristol a cloth to wipe his mouth.
“Move Faelan and Anna to the secret tower tonight. No one is to know they’re there.”
“Shouldn’t the guards do that?”
“They won’t be here long. They’ve been abusing Faelan.”
“Move the hybrid as well?”
“No. Leave him there for now. Has Joquard returned?”
“Not yet.”
What was taking him so long? He should have found the Book of Battles by now. Tristol wanted it returned to him and hidden away where other demons couldn’t find it. They all wanted the book so they could learn the name of the warrior assigned to destroy them and kill the warrior before he, or she, reached maturity. All but Tristol. His name wasn’t in the book, and he had to be careful that the other demons didn’t ask why.
“I have to leave again.”
“So soon?” Joseph asked.
“The Dark One has summoned me. He’s talking of restructuring things. He’s becoming tiresome.”
“Careful how you speak of him,” Joseph said. “The Dark One rules the underworld.”
For now, Tristol thought. After his breeding plan proved successful, and after the emerald was found and Voltar was dead, Tristol would give the Dark One the Book of Battles as a gift to persuade him to welcome his vampire children back into the fold. And in time, they would take over the world and the underworld. Tristol would rule it all. “Have you seen Lance?”
“No, master.”
“Have him killed when you find him.” Tristol walked through the large room, which was lit by sconces he’d liberated from one of England’s lustier kings. He’d liberated more than the king’s possessions, some of his best lords and ladies too. Even one of his wives. Royalty, peasants, it made no difference. The offspring between humans and vampires refused to thrive any more than the offspring of pure-bred vampires. The army he’d worked so hard to rebuild was headed for extinction, again, if he didn’t find a way to strengthen them and improve breeding. His hope now rested in his enemy. Warriors. They were human, but stronger, faster, better. If this plan was successful, he would create an empire of warrior vampires.
The vampires who had been lounging about the room stood as Tristol walked in. He gave them a brief nod and continued upstairs to his private rooms, where no one was allowed except his servant. He opened the door to his suite and stepped inside. The furnishings were lavish, with antiques and trophies that had begun to lose their appeal.
He opened his closet, which was the size of a small house, and stripped off his clothes. He reached for a black robe and slipped it on as he approached the secret door to the dungeon. The lever was hidden behind a long mirror he’d taken from yet another king. It was a hobby of his, stealing from royalty. When the door to the passageway opened, he shifted into a mist and streaked through the crooks and turns until he reached the dungeon.
He found Bart in the corridor. The guard lowered his head in deference to Tristol and moved aside. A cry of rage sounded behind the thick iron doors at the far end of the dungeon. “Was the mating successful this time?”
Bart hesitated only a second. “He didn’t kill her, so I assume so, master.”
“Did you drug both of them as I asked?”
“Yes, master. As soon as they fell asleep.”
“Good.” Tristol moved so fast the guard had no time for fear. He was dead before his body dropped. Tristol grabbed the key and moved to the Mighty Faelan’s cell. The warrior sat against the wall, holding Anna in his arms. Protective, even though he was unconscious. What would it be like to have someone care enough to want to protect him at risk to their own life? The closest thing he had was Joseph. The others feared him, admired him, lusted after him. But they didn’t love him. The only ones who had truly loved him had died more than a thousand years ago.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LANCE SLIPPED THROUGH the forest. The wolves wouldn’t start prowling the grounds until midnight. He hurried to his car, hoping this would be his last time inside the veil. He drove quickly, parking in the appointed dark alley. He checked his watch. Where was he? He turned as a dark shape materialized from the shadows, huge even in human form. He looked like a giant biker with his faded leather pants, wild brown hair, and rugged face. “Master, you’re here.”
“Is everything ready?”
“Yes. Tristol left the fortress. You have two days.”
Voltar folded his massive arms over his chest. “Lead me to the warrior.”
“Tonight? The wolves will start moving soon.” And he didn’t want to be there. He’d heard Tristol order Joseph to have him killed. But he was just as afraid of the demon standing in front of him.
“Then we’d best hurry. I want my warrior, and I want that hybrid dead.”
Lance didn’t mention the woman. He didn’t want Voltar to know she’d followed him. And by now she should be dead.
The prisoner felt unusually comfortable. He couldn’t recall ever feeling a bed so soft. He must be dreaming. He heard a soft cry and turned to find Anna lying beside him. They weren’t in the dungeon. They were in a bed. A big bed. He sat up and discovered he was naked. Anna’s hand was knotted in the covers, her cheeks wet with tears. Had he ravished her again? His stomach knotted. He lifted the edge of the sheet and saw her bare shoulder. She was naked as well. Where the devil were their clothes? The last thing he remembered was holding her after the guard threw her back in the cell. He must have given them another sleeping potion. Damn the things.
He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid he’d frighten her. He still felt shame at the memory of what he’d done. Knowing he’d probably saved her from death, or worse, didn’t soothe his guilt. He’d taken pleasure from the act. What kind of depraved soul was he?
Was that why she cried? Reliving what he’d done or what had happened after they’d taken her away? She wasn’t the crying sort. He’d known brave women—his mother was brave—but this one acted with boldness and strength he’d never seen in a woman. His mother? He got a glimpse of a fair-haired woman, but it vanished like a wisp of smoke.
Anna let out a small sob. He moved a bit closer and stroked h
er cheek. She turned toward his hand, and his heart flipped a few times before stilling in his chest.
“Don’t,” she whimpered.
What had they done to her? Or was it him she dreamed of? He must be the reason for at least some of her tears, and he reckoned that made it his duty to soothe her. He bunched the covers between them, creating a wall of sorts, and then held her closer, stroking her back through the bedding. He would get her out of this place and back to her family. To her friends that she’d told him about. To safety. That would be his mission from here on out. To right the wrong he’d done to her. How can you undo something like that, you bloody bastard?
He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud, but Anna jerked awake and bolted from the bed.
The prisoner’s jaw dropped. Anna looked down and gasped, then put her hands over her female parts. Damnation. Before he could drag his eyes away, she jumped back underneath the covers as quickly as she’d left them. “I’m naked.”
“Aye.” And the sight would forever be burned into his mind.
She looked at his bare chest. “You too?”
“Someone took our clothes.”
“And moved us,” Anna said, looking around the room. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know. The last thing I remember is the guard bringing you back to the cell. You were unconscious. Are you hurt?”
She frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“What did they do to you?”
The two delicate lines deepened in her forehead. “I don’t know. I remember the guard opening a door. It was dark inside. I saw someone…I remember a roar.” Her eyes grew wide, the color startlingly beautiful. “The hybrid. I think the hybrid was there.”
A cold hand squeezed the prisoner’s guts. The hybrid. The one they’d referred to as a monster. In a place with a breeding plan? What had they done to her? She hadn’t been tortured. That quick glance at her body had told him she was uninjured. On the outside anyway, but some injuries didn’t easily show. “You don’t recall anything?”
She shook her head.
He recalled how bravely she’d fought against the guard. Something must have happened. Why take her away and do nothing to her? Had she blocked it? “Perhaps they’ve taken your memories too.”
“Lance gave me a shot. The drug must have made me forget what happened. But I do remember Tristol.” She looked like she wanted to jump up. “I can’t believe he’s here, right under our noses. I have to go back and warn the clan.”
“You know him?” The odd thing was that he felt he did too.
“Every warrior knows Tristol. He’s a demon. A powerful demon.”
“Demon.” As he repeated the word, a memory struck him so hard he felt as if he’d been kicked in the head by a horse.
The man’s skin thickened, the bones lengthening, not human. Then a child screamed. He knew the child. Was it his?
He rubbed his head.
“What’s wrong?” Anna asked.
“My head. What do you mean, a demon?” More flashes. Ugly faces and sharp teeth.
“Humans aren’t the only creatures on this earth that walk upright. Demons disguise themselves as humans, but they’re trying to destroy us. That’s where warriors come in. They protect humans by destroying demons or locking them away. And I’m almost certain you’re a warrior.” Anna touched his chest, running her fingers over the marks there. They were tingling. “These tattoos on your chest. Do you remember getting them?”
His hand immediately went to his chest, and his fingers brushed against hers. “No.”
“Did you have a talisman, a necklace, when you came here?”
His hand moved higher. He didn’t feel anything, but he imagined something warm there. Something metal. “I think so. I’m not certain.”
“You touched your neck when I mentioned a talisman. I think your brain is trying to remember.”
“You think I’m a warrior?”
“Everything about you says you are. These marks on your chest. I’m sure they’re battle marks. Each warrior is marked according to his weaknesses and strengths. Most males have them on their chest. Mine are on my lower back.”
“Yours? You’re a warrior? A lass?” In spite of his throbbing head, he gave her an indulgent smile. The trauma of this place must have gotten to her.
Anna’s shoulders straightened. Her beautiful eyes were fierce. “I’m a warrior.”
“You’re not a…prostitute?”
“What?” She gaped at him.
“I thought…your dress, it was…short.”
“No, I’m not a prostitute.” If she spoke the truth, and he believed she did, she should have been more offended. As it was, she looked intrigued, as if she’d solved a mystery. “I’m from Clan Connor.”
He struggled to catch his next breath. “Connor?”
Her eyes narrowed, making them look like slivers of jewels. “Do you know the name?”
“I don’t know.” But his head felt like it would split down the middle. “How could I be one of these warriors and not remember such a thing?”
“It’s amazing that you’re not a vegetable after all they’ve done to you. All the drugs and beatings. After we get out of here, I’ll take you to a doctor I know. Maybe that’ll help us find out who you are.”
It gave him a warm feeling that she had said us after all she’d suffered at his hands. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“If you apologize again, I’m going to hit you.” She stared at him, her face fierce.
While he was trying to figure out what to possibly say, she looked around the room. “We have to figure out where we are.”
“It’s a sight better than that dungeon. It looks like a tower.” The room was round, with stone floors covered by plush rugs that must have cost a fortune. The bed they were in was a four-poster. The comforter was a rich brocade like he’d seen once in a palace in India. India? Another memory? Tapestries and sconces hung on the walls, while ornate tables and chairs decorated the room.
“I don’t care if it’s the White House. I want away from this place,” Anna said.
He didn’t know what a white house was, but he was all for leaving too. “Got any fig leaves? I’ve broken out of towers before, but never naked—damnation, I think I remembered something else. A castle…and screams.” He was so encouraged by the glimpse, he started to get up, but stopped when he saw her eyes widen. “We can’t stay under the covers forever. There’s got to be something in here we can wear. I’m going to see what I can find.” He slipped out of bed, holding a pillow over his groin. He walked around the room, looking for anything that might be used for clothing, taking care to keep his arse turned away from her. He must have failed because in a minute she cleared her throat.
“You need another pillow,” she said.
He glanced back at her and saw her quickly look away. “Or you could just close your eyes.”
She snorted. Snorted?
Did all female warriors make such rude sounds? Though she looked very bonny when she did it. He was relieved she was acting more like the brave, bold woman he’d seen when she’d first arrived. Not the one who’d looked haunted and broken. He didn’t particularly like bold women, but it was the lesser of two evils. “Why would they move us from the dungeon to a tower?” He opened another drawer and found it empty. “And why did they take our clothes?”
“Remember what the guard said about breeding? Tristol mentioned testing. Maybe you passed the tests.”
“You think Tristol is planning to breed me to his demons? Like hell he will. I’ll rip his bloody bonny head off, demon or no.”
“I doubt that.”
He glared at her. “You think I can’t do it?” How could he protect a woman who had no confidence in him? Hell, how could he protect a woman when he didn’t know his own name?
She shrugged one sho
ulder, a lovely shoulder. “It wasn’t an insult. Tristol is a demon of old.”
“What does that mean?”
“The ancient demons are incredibly powerful. They have to be assigned.”
“Assigned?” The headache was coming back.
“They have to be matched to a warrior’s skills and strength.”
“Assigned or not, I won’t sit here and let him breed me like a stallion.” And what about her? Was she part of this breeding plan too? If this Tristol didn’t have some use for her, he would have killed her. I remember a roar, she’d said. The only roar he’d heard had come from the hybrid. A male.
He saw a door and opened it, thinking it might be a closet.
“Bollocks. What’s that?”
“Have you found a way out?” Anna grabbed a pillow from the bed and joined him. “It’s only a bathroom.”
“Bathroom?” There was a tub, but it was large enough for a small family. It had basins and a pot like the one in his cell, and another contraption enclosed in glass. It was strange looking, but he had a feeling he’d seen one before. He tried to focus on the strange room and not all the bare skin sticking out from behind the pillow next to him. He stopped and turned to the tower door. “Someone’s coming.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
A moment later, a voice ordered, “Open it!”
The prisoner grabbed a heavy vase from a table and stepped in front of Anna.
“The master will be angry,” another voice said.
“I’ll do it myself.” The door flew open, and a man stepped in. He was dressed in black and had long blond hair, pretty as a woman’s, and pale blue eyes.
Anna softly gasped and stepped beside him. The bloody woman wasn’t easy to protect.
Another man rushed into the room, holding a box. Tristol’s manservant. He’d seen him a few times before. “Are you a fool?” he asked the blond, without his usual quiet dignity. “Someone might have seen you. You know he has this section secured.”
The stranger came closer, his movements smooth, as if he slid across an icy loch. “I’ll be damned.” His blue eyes moved intently over the prisoner, from the pillow covering his groin to his hair. “The resemblance is amazing. I would believe it myself, but I saw him recently, and he didn’t have this.” He reached out and tugged the prisoner’s beard.
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