Through the gasps and the pain, Pandora lifted her head a few inches, staring right back into the same spot between his eyes—close but not close enough.
"You want to heal? Drink the blood off the floor like a dog. Lick it clean. And then sit calmly and wait for my return. No invisibility, no escape attempts, no speaking at all."
Glancing away as quickly as she could, Pandora dropped to all fours and sank her mouth into the sticky liquid still warm against the cold floor. Slurping like a child, she sucked it up, in too much pain to be anything but grateful for the delicious distraction of the blood sinking down her throat, euphoric as it slowly healed the stub where her finger used to be.
Tatsuya quietly left.
But she followed his orders, licking the floor like an animal until every last drop of blood was back inside her body. And then she sat, crossing her legs, staring through the glass, pretending to follow his orders. A camera blinked in the upper corner of the room, zeroed in on her.
Pandora ached to go invisible.
Ached to punch her fists against the glass so hard it shattered.
Ached to fight, to escape.
But she knew better. He had weapons made of vampire teeth—she wasn’t the first bloodsucker to be held here. The glass surrounding her was undoubtedly created to withstand all the force she could throw against it. There was no way it would break. Not a chance. The only way she was getting out of here was to wait until he had underestimated her so thoroughly that he opened the door and set her free.
So the best course of action was to sit like a good little girl and make him think he had her controlled, make him think he could waltz into her cell and do whatever he wanted, that he was safe from her. And while she waited, she would plot and observe. The security cameras in the corners weren’t the only ones she’d noticed. Tatsuya had been arrogant enough to leave her eyes uncovered as he led her to her cell, so Pandora had seen it all. The entire place was wired with cameras. All the doors were protected with keycard access. Vampire guards had been stationed down each hallway, but there was a bored look in their eyes, hollow. She could slip by them easily if she were invisible. And if she let the healthiest prisoners out first, they’d be able to fight their way out, fight the way clear for the weaker ones. If she could just get her hands on one of those keycards, maybe make her way to the control room, she’d be golden.
It was only a matter of when.
When—
"Nicely done," a voice whispered from over her shoulder, warm breath flittering over her neck, bringing goose bumps to her icy skin. "Even I'm not sure when exactly you regained your autonomy. Chopping your own finger off? Very thorough. I'm impressed. Then again, you've always been a fighter."
Pandora inhaled sharply but managed to hold still for the camera.
She'd only heard that silky voice once before, but she recognized him—the man from the club. A phantom, a vampire, a figment of her imagination? She wasn't really sure which. But she did know he'd been the first person to ever disappear on her. Eying the camera again, she opened her mouth a hair, letting one word slip out. "How?"
"Pandora," he murmured, letting her name roll off his tongue smoothly, with the barest hint of pleasure, as though saying her name was a treat, as though it was a word he savored. For some reason, the sound sent a subtle tingle down her spine, the barest shiver. "I got in the same way you can get out, if you're willing to trust me."
Pandora swallowed, letting her gaze roam the cell. His voice had shifted, no longer at her back but coming from the front. Yet she couldn't see him, couldn't even sense him. He was completely and utterly invisible.
And he was stalking her.
And disturbingly skilled at breaking and entering.
And most likely insane.
Just my luck.
But what options did she have, really? No one else was helping her. And if he was a ghost, maybe he had some otherworldly wisdom he could shine down on her.
"How?" she whispered again, barely parting her lips, still unwilling to break Tatsuya's direct commands when the camera was focused directly on her. Unless this guy offered a better option, Pandora was sticking to her own plan.
"Join me in the shadows," he said, undeniably alluring. His voice cast a spell over her, making her want to listen. Some inexplicable force blossomed deep in her gut, urging her to follow him, to believe in him, as though part of her somehow belonged to him. As though she were already his.
Burning fingers grazed the skin at the back of her neck, tracing a line of fire across her icy core as they gently shifted her hair to the side. Lips pressed against her ear. "I can teach you how to use your power, to really harness it. You're so much stronger than you know, so much stronger than they led you to believe."
"What?" Pandora snapped at his words, breaking through the trance. Camera forgotten, she pulled the shadows around her, disappearing from sight and wrapping herself in darkness as she jumped to her feet and spun. He was standing directly behind her, merely a few inches away, watching over her with a sort of affection that spoke of history—much more history than what she remembered, much more history than a few stolen words in the middle of a crowded club. Those blue eyes were intense and bright and hungry. She fought the sudden dryness in her throat. "What do you mean by they? What do you know about my power?"
He lifted his hand to her cheek.
To her surprise, she let him, entranced by the warmth in his touch. What was he? Those frosty eyes spoke of vampire, but the heat in his touch and the tanned hue of his skin spoke of something else entirely. Something she didn’t understand—yet.
"I know everything there is to know about your power," he said, using his thumb to stroke her skin, a loving sort of gesture, so gentle that for a moment she wondered if she was imagining him. "Because it's my power, and it has been for a long time. I can show you everything, if you'll let me. But first, we need to get out of here."
He dropped his hand, stepped around her, and pressed his palms to the glass.
"Wait," she blurted, blinking as though waking from a dream. The distance between them gave her room to breathe, room to think—some much-needed fresh air. "Who are you?"
He turned, looking at her over his shoulder, lifting the corner of his lip into a devilish smirk. "You can call me Sam."
Sam?
But that was so…ordinary.
So all-American schoolboy, prom king, quarterback of the football team, goes to church on Sunday, ordinary.
And the man in front of her was anything but that.
"Sam?" she questioned, not fully able to keep the snark from her tone.
He shrugged, smirk deepening. "Yeah, Sam."
"How old are you?"
Lifting a single brow, he shook his head and turned back to the glass, drawing her attention to his golden hair in the process. It was long, longer than boys usually wore it these days, meaning he was probably old—vampire old. Intriguingly old—as in, why would he care what happened to her, a newbie vamp and a thief at that, old. It looked so smooth, so soft, so utterly graspable—like sexy, midkiss, passionately in-the-moment graspable.
Why am I thinking about this?
I should not be thinking about this.
Escape. Escape first, swoon second.
No, wait. Swoon never.
Resist the swoon at all costs.
Shaking her head to clear her foggy thoughts, Pandora took a quick peek at her finger—still healing, still a stub. Chances were her plan would cost her another limb or two before the time to strike came. If Sam could get her out before that happened, she had to try.
Pandora reached down, grabbed the knife made of vampire teeth, and stuffed it into her back pocket—just in case. And then she stepped up beside him, pressing her hands to the glass. "What now?"
"Now," he said, almost excited, "we—"
An alarm interrupted him, blaring mind-numbingly loud to her sensitive vampire ears. But above the noise, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps p
ounding closer. Tatsuya’s cameras had picked up on her invisibility—he was coming for her, coming to get her back under his control once more. She had to be gone before that happened.
"What do I do?" she asked, determined and completely focused, forcing the fear to a small place in the back of her mind.
"The shadows are a separate plane of reality," he said, speaking quickly, flashing his blue gaze toward the door. But he wasn't so much nervous as annoyed. "You aren't just drawing the darkness around you to vanish from sight. You're moving your body into a different place entirely. Or at least you will be, with the right training."
"Training that starts now?" she asked.
Sam grinned. Then, with a shove, he pressed into the glass and, well, passed right through it.
A ghost.
Definitely a ghost.
Pandora's jaw dropped and just as quickly snapped back up. "I can't do that!"
"You can," he said, now watching her from the other side, watching her from freedom. "You just don’t know it yet. Go deeper into the darkness than you've ever been before, drown yourself in it and believe."
Drown herself in it and believe?
A little easier said than done.
Taking a deep breath, Pandora calmed her senses, tugging at the shadows, drawing them closer. But before she could even try to go deeper, the door to the room slammed open, iron smacking into stone, distracting her completely.
She heard Sam scoff.
A moment later, she knew why, because her own nostrils flared.
What the heck was he doing here? Here, of all places, when she'd left him buried safely out of sight in a tomb? When she'd risked her own ass to save his? When he was the only reason she was trapped here in the first place?
Okay, maybe not the only reason.
But a big one.
The shadows fell away immediately as her anger propelled her right back into the world of the light.
"Jax!" she yelled.
He stepped through the door, dressed head to toe in titan combat gear, grinning from ear to ear with a blowtorch in his hands. "Dory, Dory, Dory. We have to stop meeting like this."
Smug little…
"What are you doing here? What the hell are you doing here?"
"You know," he drawled, sauntering forward, enjoying this moment a little too much for Pandora’s liking. "If I were you, I might try a little less screaming and a little more groveling. Oh, Jax, thank god you're here. Thank you for coming to rescue my sorry, ungrateful but adorable behind. Thank you for continuing to chase me down day after day even though I keep telling you to leave me alone and punch you until you're unconscious and lock you inside tombs."
Her chest contracted uncomfortably.
She did feel a little guilty about punching him…twice. But there was just something about the way he watched her, as though he knew every lie spilling from her lips, could read every ounce of truth brimming in her eyes, that was infuriating—infuriating in a way she’d never quite experienced before.
And he was doing it right now.
"You were fine," she snapped, crossing her arms and cocking her hip in the same moment, keeping her guard fully up. "In fact, I'd say I did you a favor, wounding your ego, bringing it down a notch or two from its extremely high perch."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, mocking her. "Which one of us is captured right now, and which one of us is part of the rescue team? Who exactly has the boosted ego?"
"I've got it under control," Pandora growled. “I’m fine.”
Jax continued to step closer until he was right on the other side of the glass, very close to where Sam had been standing a few moments ago. Was he still here? Still watching unseen from the shadows?
"You're fine?" Jax asked.
Pandora pursed her lips. "I'm handling the situation."
"I see…" He eyed the stub of her finger dubiously. She dropped her hands behind her back. "And what's the big plan?"
Pandora narrowed her eyes but remained silent. After all, she couldn't exactly tell him her plan was to enter another plane of reality and walk through a wall of glass so thick that even a vampire's considerable strength couldn't shatter it.
He grinned. "Ask me for help."
"No."
"Dory," he chided. "We're running out of time. The window to escape is narrowing by the second, and I know how to get you out. Just say the words. Just say you need my help."
If looks could kill, he'd be dead.
"My name is Pandora” She forced the words through her gritted teeth. "And I don’t need your help."
His smile only deepened, making his perfectly white teeth even more noticeable against his dark skin, making his eyes shine even brighter. Four years and he hadn't changed a bit—he still loved nothing more than getting under her skin. Only this time, it wouldn’t end with a kiss-and-make-up.
Definitely, definitely not.
He reached into his black vest and pulled a key card from the pocket. "You see this? I stole it off the vamp who'd been guarding your room. The now very dead vamp who'd been guarding your room. One swipe and the glass will rise, and you'll be free. For once, just admit that you need my help, and we can go."
Okay, that's it.
Pandora dove back into the shadows, falling through the darkness, wrapping herself in waves and waves of ebony. Over Jax's shoulder, Sam watched her intensely, smiling ever so slightly, urging her on.
Because she would prove Jax wrong. Oh, yes, she'd show him that she didn’t need his help, not now and not ever. All he ever did was swoop in and make promises he had no intention of keeping. All he ever did was get in her way.
Drown myself in it and believe, she thought, repeating Sam's words.
Drown myself in it and believe.
Drown myself in it and believe.
Drown myself in it and—
Pandora lashed out, punching her fist into the glass, envisioning her knuckles sliding through the wall, landing smack-dab in the middle of Jax's cheek, and erasing that knowing gleam from his eye. She believed, heck yeah she believed. Everything about her wanted to prove him wrong, wanted her body to slide smoothly through the glass, proving once and for all that she didn’t need Jackson Rodriguez’s help anymore, and she wouldn’t need it ever again. So she kept the image strong, kept it in the forefront of her thoughts as she infused all her vampiric strength and speed into that punch.
And—
"Shit!" she screamed as her hand crashed against the glass, bones shattering upon impact. The shadows flew away as she dropped to the ground, cradling her completely broken hand against her chest, whimpering from the pain.
Jax snorted, immediately lifting his palm to his mouth and trying to cover it with a cough, but she heard. Oh, she heard.
"That, was, um, interesting," he said, struggling to get the words out. "Are you ready to accept my help now?"
She glared up at him from her position on the floor. "Open the door, Jax."
"Dory…"
She jumped to her feet and smashed her palms against the glass, ignoring the new bout of pain. "Open the door right now, Jax, or I swear I'll, I'll…" She looked around, searching for a threat, any threat. "I'll bite you," she hissed, flashing her fangs.
He leaned in close, winking as a fiery glow entered his green eyes. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Rage.
That was all she felt. Pure, blinding rage. But she couldn’t quite tell if it was at him or at her own traitorous mind for flashing a quick memory of the moment he was referencing.
Heat burned her chest, a lightning spike.
"Jax!" she shouted, because she didn’t know what else to say, and she was determined to keep the blame on him.
"Give me a week," he said quickly, sensing she'd reached her limit.
But Pandora wasn’t ready to make that sort of promise. “We have to go. We don’t have time for this. Just open the cell so we can get out of here while we still have the chance.”
“No way, Dory,” he said, shaking
his head, not even an ounce of urgency in his words. “I’d rather get thrown in there with you than let you out without knowing you won’t just disappear on me again. Promise me one week. Give me one week to convince you to come home. And if I can't, I'll stop following you. I'll let you go. One week, that’s all I ask. And after that, you’ll never have to see me again.”
"One week?" she repeated softly. Seven days. That didn’t sound too bad. But considering it had only taken a single night to turn her world upside down and one moment to turn into a vampire, a week suddenly seemed like an awfully long time. Yet she was running out of options. The alarms were still ringing, Tatsuya was probably on his way to her cell, and once again, Jax’s ass was on the line whether he realized it or not. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting for her perfect moment, not anymore.
"Okay, one week,” she agreed quickly before she could take the words back. As soon as she spoke them, she felt Sam vanish. Not disappear, but vanish. She couldn't explain it, except to say that the same awareness that had mysteriously drawn her toward him felt undeniably empty after she'd made the agreement with Jax. There was no justification except that he was gone just as quickly as he'd come.
But Jax was unaware, nodding in agreement. Surprising her with his lack of gloat, he raised the keycard to a spot on the glass, and it shot open.
"Let's go," he said, reaching for her fingers, pulling her toward freedom.
And at first, she followed. She really did.
But then they reached the door.
"Are you serious?" she muttered under her breath. Because on the other side of that door was a raging freaking inferno—conduit fire so strong she could hardly breathe and was already burning from the heat.
How in the world was she supposed to make it through that alive?
Chapter Eight
Frost (Midnight Ice Book One) Page 9
