She nodded and the guard lifted me off my feet, his solid grip pinning my arms to my sides and my legs together. Even with the blood I’d fed on, I wasn’t strong enough to fight him. I screamed as he lowered me, hoping Cyrus would hear. Nothing else would have had me desperate for him, of all people, to come save me, but I’d take anyone at this point.
Someone had to come.
But no one did.
The guard released me. A slam and there was nothing but darkness. The scent of sawdust filling my lungs. My own rapid breaths echoing back at me.
And the coffin was lifted. Brought somewhere else, as I’d known it would be.
I managed to hold on to some sense of calm until the first shovelful of earth hit the top of the coffin. Then something inside me snapped. Screaming, beating and clawing at the wood until my nails were torn and my hands were bloody, every bit of sanity I’d clung to shattered.
There was nothing in the coffin with me.
Nothing.
But I could still feel them. All around.
Crawling on me.
Slithering around.
Endlessly.
Chapter Eleven
“You don’t get to give up.”
Something scaly brushed my thigh. I clawed at nothing. Slammed my head into the base of the coffin.
“You’re stronger than this.”
Tiny legs, skittering across my cheek. I brushed away…nothing.
“Let me tell you a story.”
I shouldn’t hear his voice. His voice shouldn’t comfort me. But in the darkness, he was here. The man I loved. The man I’d never doubt, because he’d saved me, again and again. He’d fought by my side. He’d given me a life when all I’d had was…nothing.
Part of me had loved him the first time he’d forced me to eat, but I’d truly given him my heart when he’d found a way to take me out of that cell with a fantasy, a place he’d finally brought me to for real, but couldn’t compare to the oasis I’d needed so much when death was the only escape from another day in hell.
There was no way to know how long I’d been in this coffin, buried deep in the earth. So deep that I couldn’t even shift the lid. Screaming and crying had stolen my voice. My hands had healed only for me to tear them up again, but I couldn’t recall what I’d been trying to do. There’d been no plan. No thought. I’d been like an animal, ready to chew its own leg off to be free.
Losing myself had been a small blessing, because I couldn’t remember making those deep grooves in the wood I could feel now as I ran my hand along the walls of the coffin. I couldn’t remember bleeding so much that the scent of my blood tainted the air and I could feel flecks of it dried to every inch of my skin.
His voice had brought me back. But I was still alone.
He wasn’t looking for me.
He probably didn’t even know I wasn’t in my cell anymore.
Maybe he wouldn’t care, but the voice I heard was from the man I’d known would always fight for me. A man I’d give my life for. He was the one I needed to listen to if I was ever going to get out of here.
I continued brushing my fingers along the side of the coffin. There! The head of a nail. I worked my fingernail under it, tugging, wincing as my nail began to tear.
“Think, Lydia!”
“I’m trying to!” I growled, envisioning Daederich lifting his brow and folding his arms over his chest, looking at me the way he did when I was being stupid. “I’d like to see you get out of a fucking coffin.”
He’d probably smirk at that. For all I knew, he’d done it already. In half the time.
“Yeah, well someone give the man a fucking medal.” I sucked my teeth, which wiped the smile right off his lips. He hated when I did that.
Yep, I’m losing my fucking mind.
The nail would give me a way to weaken the wood. The planks were too thick to punch or kick through, even with supernatural strength. Well, my supernatural strength anyway. An older immortal could probably split them with a single punch, but I had a few decades to go before I’d have that kind of power.
Running my hands down my body, my fingers touched the zipper on my boots. Perfect! I twisted one tab, but it broke loose much too easily. The metal on my jeans zipper was stronger. I couldn’t break it off, but I quickly shed my boots and jeans, holding the end of the zipper tab and digging into the wood around the nail. When there was enough space, I pried the tab between the wood and the nail, tugging the nail up, bit by bit.
I’d almost given up on the damn thing when it came out enough to wiggle free. Palming the nail, I lay back down, pressing my eyes shut and steadying my breaths. There was no air in the coffin. I didn’t need it. But breathing fast brought panic closer and I had to fight it. Breaking out of the coffin would take awhile, but I would get out.
Those words played on repeat in my mind as I used my boot and the nail to make a line of holes in the wood, close together, in one thick plank of wood. There were at least a hundred holes by the time I was done. My head spun and my stomach clenched, all my veins tight from lack of blood. I wouldn’t have the energy to keep moving soon.
Around me, the walls seemed closer. Another deep breath. I drove the heel of my palm into the holes.
“Harder!”
I shouted as I hit it again, hearing his voice with mine. The wood splintered, cutting into my palm. Dirt spilled into the coffin. I pushed it toward my feet, turning my head as damp earth covered my face. The dirt came faster. I shoved at the wood until there was enough space for me to sit up.
Once I was out of the box, the loose earth was easy to dig through. I stood, reaching up until I felt the opening…
Searing pain. I yanked my hand back, trying to spit the dirt out of my mouth.
The sun was up. I couldn’t climb out now.
And the coffin was filled with dirt.
Forcing my arms up in front of my face, I did my best to pack up the dirt around me. The earth pressed against me, holding me tight, even worse than the walls of the coffin.
“Close your eyes.” His voice was soothing. I could almost feel him, holding me, whispering. “I’m so fucking proud of you. This will be over soon.”
“Tell me…” A sob locked my throat. I spit out another mouthful of dirt. “Tell me that story again. Romeo and Juliette. I love the way you tell it. Reading the real version fucking sucked.”
His laughter made it easier to forget I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. That no one would come if I screamed. That if I freaked out and tried to escape my grave now I’d be burned alive.
He told me the story, exactly as he had so long ago, in the cell we’d shared.
Then I heard him calling my name.
“Lydia!”
He couldn’t be out there, could he? Had the sun set?
I carefully pushed my fingers through the dirt.
A hand closed around mine, pulling. The pressure around me disappeared. I collapsed on the grass, coughing out dirt, too weak to stand. A cool breeze brushed against me. My whole body shook.
I was free.
Finally free.
“Lydia, look at me.” Hands cupped my cheeks. Brushed dirt off my face. “I searched for you for days. I could destroy her for what she did to you.”
Oh, that would be nice. I smiled. “We can destroy her together.”
“Hush. I can’t protect you if she hears you speaking that way.” Soft lips pressed to my forehead. “But she won’t come near you again, I promise.”
He cradled me in his arms and I rested my head against his chest as he carried me. This wasn’t Daederich.
Daederich wouldn’t have come for me. But Cyrus had. He might have found me if I’d stayed in the coffin a little longer. He was the one holding me. Whether I liked it or not, he was the only one who could keep me safe.
“But you freed yourself, Lydia. Don’t forget that. Don’t you dare fucking forget.”
Chapter Twelve
Tears trailed through the dirt smeared on my cheeks as Cy
rus brought me into the house, up the stairs rather than back into the cells below. His room here was just as lavish as the one in the house he’d kept me in before, but he didn’t hesitate before laying me on a pristine white lounge near the window.
He used his fangs to tear open his wrist, then pressed it to my lips, holding still as I drank my fill. His jaw hardened as he looked me over. “You’ll stay with me from now on. I won’t have her using you in her petty games.”
“She wants Alrik. She’s looking for him.” I wiped his blood from my lips, ignoring the dirt on my tongue. “If she hurts him—”
“She won’t. She’ll never find him, Lydia. I swear.” Cyrus’s brow furrowed. “I would take you away from here if I could, but she won’t release Elah. I can’t fight for both of you.”
“Why? Since when do you let anyone have this kind of power over you?”
He let out a dry laugh and shook his head. “Only her. She’s my sire. She’d know the second I turned on her and I rather enjoy living.”
I wanted to ask if he was afraid of her, but I couldn’t see that question leading anywhere good, so I kept my mouth shut. His lips slanted slightly, as though he knew what I was thinking. Then he stood, brushing the dry earth off his surprisingly plain black suit.
“Stay here while I pour you a bath.”
“A bath? I’ll be soaking in dirt.” I rubbed my face, my skin stiff with the grit covering every inch of me. “Let me take a shower.”
“You’re not strong enough to stand yet.”
“Then help me.”
His shock matched my own. Because I meant it. I wanted—I needed his help. I needed the dirt off me. I needed to know Rosali wouldn’t walk into the room and take me out to be buried again. I shivered as I considered how she could make the next coffin impossible to escape. Put it somewhere Cyrus would never find.
He could stop her. Without him, I would fall apart. Spend every moment waiting for her. Watching the door of my cell. She might never come, but the wait would be enough to drive me insane.
I’d rather die. I almost wished I was dead now, but I had to live. Cyrus wouldn’t stop Rosali from taking Alrik if he didn’t have me.
There was no reason to fight him anymore. I wanted to belong to Cyrus.
Being his was all I had left.
“As much as this pleases me, I don’t want you to lose yourself, Lydia.” He pulled me to my feet, supporting me with a hand under my elbow when my knees buckled. “You’ll recover and hate me again tomorrow.”
I laughed, moving like I’d aged a hundred years, leaning against him as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Do you want me to hate you?”
“No.” His lips quirked slightly. “But don’t make it too easy.”
“You call this easy?” I sucked air through my teeth as he lowered me to the edge of the tub, leaving me there as he went to turn on the water in the large glass shower, heating it until steam filled the room. “I know who you are, Cyrus. That hasn’t changed.”
He unbuttoned his suit jacket, tossing it into the corner of the room, then started removing his shirt. “Then what has?”
“I don’t care.”
His brow lifted. He stopped undoing the buttons.
“You were there. I know it’s fucked up, and tomorrow I might be telling you to go to hell, but…I don’t think so. And it doesn’t matter because we’ll always be playing this game.” I let my arms fall to my sides as he came to me, taking off my shirt, then helping me stand so he could slide off my dirt-caked panties. “I won’t win without you.”
He inclined his head. “I’ll still hurt you, pet.”
“Do you want to hurt me now?”
Tilting his head to one side, he frowned. “No. I want to take care of you. Which is new.”
I laughed, biting my bottom lip as he finished stripping. For a sadistic, evil fucker, he was damn sexy. And seeing him that way was twisted, but I couldn’t help looking him over, appreciating the view for the first time. His long, sleek black hair, his toned body, cut with muscle in all the right places. The V of his pelvis drew my eyes down to his thick length, which I’d never paid much attention to before.
He wasn’t circumcised, but neither was Elah, and even though I’d seen enough online to know most women found an ‘uncut’ dick ugly, I liked them as much as any other dick. The way a man used it was all that mattered.
“You’ve never looked at me that way before.” Cyrus helped me up, wrapping my dirty hair around his hand and tipping my head back. “I’m not sure any woman has.”
Leaning forward, I flicked my tongue over his bottom lip. “Like what?”
“Like you aren’t afraid of me.”
“Then I’m putting on a good fucking act, because I’m not that stupid.”
His lips curved in a devilish smile. “What a relief. I was afraid I’d lost my touch.”
I was lying and he knew it. Apparently, I was that stupid, because at that moment, he didn’t scare me. He might hurt me tomorrow. He’d continue hurting me every chance he got. But he didn’t want to break me, and I was close to the edge.
“Enough of that. Come.” He led me to the shower, checking the water before easing me under the spray. “Lean against the wall.”
Resting my back against the warm tiles, I relaxed as he soaped up a sea sponge and began washing me. The mist around us carried the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut oil, and the horror of the last few days drained away as the dirt swirled down the drain. Once he’d scrubbed my hair with a shampoo that smelled like honey, I felt like I’d been pieced back together. Real again.
And other than cleaning me, he’d done nothing. He could have fucked me against the wall of the shower. I wouldn’t have stopped him. Instead, he stepped out of the shower naked, pulling fluffy white towels from a shelf by the bath, and held one out to me after wrapping the other around his waist.
Then he carried me to his bed, sitting me on the edge as he found a long white shirt for me. He used the towel to dry my hair, then sat behind me, gently brushing my hair until all the tangles were out and my eyes were drifting shut.
He laid me on his bed, covering me with the blanket before climbing in beside me.
His breathing slowed.
He’d fallen asleep.
This couldn’t be happening. Cyrus knew I was grateful. He knew I’d let him have anything he wanted from me. This scared me. If he lost interest, I was fucked.
I didn’t believe he was giving me a night to recover. Sure, this whole wanting to take care of someone might be new to him, but wouldn’t entertain him for long. I’d seen what happened to those who bored him. I couldn’t be one of them.
Coming on to him was one option, but that wasn’t like me. He’d be suspicious. He’d accepted me needing his help before because I was desperate. Shaken to the core. Now that I felt like myself again, what would he expect me to do?
Probably exactly what I was doing.
This was a game. It always would be. And it was my move.
Slipping out from under the blanket, I stood. Took a step toward the door.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I glanced back at him, not surprised to see him fully awake, his head braced on his hand. “Then what would you do?”
“I would have accepted the very generous gift of a few hours rest. Waited until I was strong enough to demand what was expected of me.” He gave me a hooded look. “Then probably tell me I could have saved myself. If I didn’t kill me while I slept.”
“You wouldn’t care if a young boy died for your actions.”
“Not in the least.”
“I could almost like you if you weren’t such a demented bastard.” I sat on the edge of the bed. No point in pretending I was going anywhere. “What the fuck do you want from me, Cyrus?”
He crooked a finger at me, smiling as I crawled across the bed. “You could have gone with seducing me.”
“But then you wouldn’t be in control.”
“You’re learning. Good.” He rose up, pulling me under him and trapping my wrists in one hand. “Give me that control. Not to avoid pain. Not to keep Alrik safe. Let me have you. All of you. Because you want to see what it feels like when you’re not fighting me.”
“I won’t fight you tonight.” I relaxed in his grip, meeting his eyes. “But I won’t promise I never will again.”
“If you promised me that, I’d know you were lying.” He reached his free hand past the edge of the mattress, pulling up a thick chain, clucking his tongue when I jerked at my wrist. “You’re not off to a good start, pet.”
Pressing my eyes shut, I panted as he wound the chains around my wrists, wincing as a lock clicked into place. The cool metal on my flesh reminded me too much of my first memories, laying on the gritty floor, naked, bound, and blind, on display for the crowd. He’d done that to me.
The horror, the fear, seemed so long ago, but the bite of the chain brought it all back. Still, I didn’t fight him. There hadn’t been a point to fighting then. There was even less of one now.
Tears wet my lashes as Cyrus tore open my borrowed shirt. I winced as he brought his lips to one breast, but he simply brushed a soft kiss over my nipple, teasing the tender nub with his tongue until it tightened. I squirmed as sparks of pleasure skittered along my nerves, trashing my efforts to remain detached.
Curving his hands under my breasts, Cyrus lifted one, then the other to his lips, sucking and biting until I jerked at the chains, the erotic sensations triggering the need to move. To be closer to the stimulation. My body had betrayed me before, but this time, I welcomed the way it overruled my mind.
I wanted what he was giving me. Wanted one damn moment when I could give in willingly and push aside the past. It would be waiting for me when we were done. It always was, even though most was nothing but a gaping black hole.
Moving down my body, Cyrus pushed my thighs open, his tongue slipping against my folds, dipping into me, driving me out of my mind. I lifted my hips to him, but his hand pressed down on my pelvis, locking me in place.
The End (Deadly Captive Book 3) Page 12
