The End (Deadly Captive Book 3)

by Bianca Sommerland

  He brought me close to the edge of release. Stopped. Thrust his tongue into me, dragging me to the peak yet again before leaving me gasping and straining to rise.

  Without warning, he flipped me over, jerking me up to my knees. The chains tightened around my wrists, pinching my skin between the links so hard they broke the flesh. Blood trailed down my forearms, small droplets disappearing into the black sheets as he positioned himself behind me.

  Sliding his dick up and down over my pussy, he taunted me, moving out of reach every time I shifted my hips to urge him on. I pressed my head to the mattress between my forearms, whimpering as he finally pressed into me, inch at a time, so fucking slow I wanted to scream at him. But I didn’t. I was afraid he’d stop.

  “So desperate. Tell me, Lydia. Tell me what you need.” He ground into me, stroking one hand down my spine. Wrapping my hair around his hand, he jerked me up as far as the chains would allow. “You know how much I love it when you beg.”

  He’d used my own body as a weapon against me. A twisted part of me was so fucking turned on, I craved his every sadistic urge. I let out a low moan as he drew away, biting into my cheek as the flat of his palm connected with my thigh.

  “Tell. Me.” He tightened his grip on my hair until my eyes teared and I cried out at the pain in my scalp. “Say the words or I’ll leave you here with a toy to keep you this hot and pathetic all fucking night.”

  “You…” I pulled as much as I could in his grip, meeting his hard gaze over my shoulder. “I need you.”

  Claiming my lips in a rough kiss, he filled me with one smooth thrust, pulling my hips back in a hard rhythm, filling the room with the sound of flesh slapping flesh. He shoved me back down on the mattress, his hand on the back of my neck, curving his free arm around my waist and scissoring his fingers at either side of my clit.

  Everything inside me clamped down and I screamed as pleasure burst out like flammable liquid ignited under pressure. The flames spread within and without, undulating my core, blazing along every nerve. I shuddered as he slammed in over and over, never slowing, never letting up, bringing me to another climax so intense that ecstasy spotted my vision with flashes of red through darkness.

  Raking his nails down my back, he drove in one last time, a feral sound escaping him before he wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his weight on me as though his release had taken the last of his strength.

  Warmth slicked his chest and my back, blood spilling from the flesh he’d clawed, but I had scars from much worse wounds he’d left on me. This was nothing. Compared to all the other times he’d taken me, this was almost…gentle.

  Appreciating being fucked by him in any way was so messed up, I refused to think on it too long. As my body cooled, the scent of sawdust and dirt returned to me and I shivered. Being pinned down reminded me of being trapped in the earth, so close to freedom, unable to take it because the risk was worse than the nightmare surrounding me.

  The story of my fucking life.

  Easing away from me, Cyrus grabbed a set of keys from the nightstand and quickly undid the lock on my chains. He released me, letting me lie down on the bed as he disappeared into the bathroom.

  He returned with a damp, black facecloth, and used it to clean the blood from my back. The wounds stung, but I bit into my tongue to keep from making a sound. This side of him, this attentive tenderness, wasn’t real. For some reason, he’d chosen to play the part of a kind lover. If I let myself believe he cared at all, he’d destroy me when he got bored of this game.

  “I might not, you know.” He carefully lifted one wrist, then the other, cleaning the blood off them as well. “You rarely bore me and I rather like the idea of you purring for me now and then. You aren’t a loyal bitch, wagging her tail for scraps. More like a kitten, ready to curl up in my lap, or bite my hand if I rub you the wrong way.”

  I let out a tired laugh, not sure what to make of him constantly trying to mold me into some kind of pet. That wasn’t what he really wanted from me. I wasn’t sure he even knew what he did want. Tonight, it was this, and I wouldn’t fight him on it. After what I’d gone through, I needed some time to figure out my own mind.

  Cyrus tossed the cloth aside, then pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair, trying to comfort me in a way that proved my reality had been turned inside out. I lay staring at the ceiling for hours, long after he’d drifted off. The smell of dirt lingered. Stale air. My own blood. The grave still held me, more tangible when I closed my eyes than the soft bed beneath me, or the solid chest where I rested my head.

  Maybe I hadn’t gotten out at all. Maybe this was a dream. A fucked up dream because I couldn’t imagine anything better than this gilded cage I was in. My fantasy was not being tortured. My only hope that my sacrifice would mean something. So long as I had those basic comforts, what more could I want?

  Other than the mercy of death.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cuddled up on a massive, black wood and red velvet throne chair, wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, I lost myself in one of Cyrus’s favorite books. The horror genre didn’t really interest me, I’d experienced enough real horror to last me a lifetime, but reading kept me from staring at the clock, wondering when Cyrus would return.

  Thinking about what he’d want from me when he did.

  If he wanted to fuck me, I’d be fine. Sex didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t anymore. Finding the pleasure I could in the act was more than enough. I’d sold my body for his protection, and I didn’t regret it for a second.

  Not that I’d had a choice. Fuck, I missed the days when I’d had that kind of freedom. When my body was my own and being touched and kissed was…special. When I’d been more than some kind of prize.

  The door opened. I kept my eyes on the page, not seeing the words. If I didn’t draw attention to myself, Cyrus might leave me alone. Hopefully, he’d only come to change out of his latest blood-soaked outfit, which he did several times a night.

  I didn’t ask where all that blood came from. I didn’t want to know.

  He strode across the room, into the closet. Tossed a buddle of clothes at my feet. “Get dressed.”

  A glance at the clothes made my brow furrow. Jeans and a plain white tank top. Neither gave me any clue what was going on, but he seemed agitated. “Why—?”

  “Do as your told, Lydia.” His tone was hard, and he barely spared me a look as he changed into one of his fancier style suits, dark blue and gold embroidered frock coat, with tight pants and a frilly white shirt. Victorian or Georgian or some shit like that. I could never tell the difference, even though Daederich had tried to teach me a bit of history.

  Knowing the age of the vampire you were going after could mean the difference between life and death. Not many dressed as elaborately as Cyrus, but quite a few of the older ones had some kind of tell. An old watch, a cane, the way they walked, what they wore around their neck.

  Once Daederich had stopped me from going after a young woman who’d been killing hookers in LA. She dressed like every girl her age, tiny shorts, a snug little top. But she had an authentic rondel dagger Daederich figured was from the 15th century. That bitch would have torn me in two with a flick of her delicate wrists.

  He’d given Elah a call and let the hunters have her. She killed two of them before they put her down.

  Not that there was much chance of me getting into that line of work again, but if I did, I’d have to pick up on those little details.

  “It’s a mix of Victorian and Georgian.” Cyrus leaned against the bedpost, folding his arms over his chest as I quickly dressed. “Which means I’m old enough to fuck you up. And will if you don’t hurry.”

  I dragged my hair into a ponytail, then slipped into a pair of plain black army boots. “Where are we going?”

  “To the theater, of course.” He scowled and tugged at the ruffled sleeves of his shirt. “With no warning, because dramatic invites add to the excitement, naturally.”

  The ‘theater’ could on
ly mean one thing. I swallowed and shook my head. “You said you wouldn’t let her have me.”

  “And I won’t.” He gestured impatiently at my clothes. “Why do you think I’ve made you as unappealing as possible?”

  Yep, jeans and a tank top. That’ll keep me safe.

  “Don’t push me, Lydia. I’m not in the mood.” He grabbed my hand, yanking me to his side. “With her upbringing, you’d think she’d have better manners, but instead she’s the same selfish, entitled little bitch she’s always been.”

  “Why go if you’re this pissed?”

  “Because my reputation will suffer if I don’t.” He let out a sharp laugh. “They’ve forgotten who I am. Tonight, I’ll remind them.”

  One of Cyrus’s men drove us to the ‘theater’ in a town car, pulling up in front of an old mansion a few miles from the city. There were fancy cars parked everywhere, some even on the grass, but absolutely no one outside except for a guard by the front entrance.

  He inclined his head to Cyrus as we started up the stairs. The massive doors swung open and two servants held them as we stepped inside. The entryway was immense, with gleaming marble floors and two curved staircases leading up to the second floor. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, lit with hundreds of candles. There didn’t seem to be any electricity here. Either that or the owner wasn’t afraid of the place catching on fire, because as we made our way to the ballroom, there was no other lighting.

  The ballroom was crowded, mostly with older men, but there were several women in fancy gowns, seeming more part of the decoration than anything else. I moved closer to Cyrus as eyes turned my way, then stopped myself, inhaling roughly when he released my hand and shot me a knowing look. I might need Cyrus’s protection, but I couldn’t make that too obvious. Among these creatures, I could either be predator or prey. Being Cyrus’s ‘pet’ didn’t take me off the menu. If these elite fuckers thought I was valuable to him, they might make an offer to find out why. For the right price, Cyrus would hand me over, no hesitation.

  “But it would be a very high price.” Cyrus chuckled, pulling a chair out for me at one of the round tables set up close to the stage, which was smaller than any I’d been forced to perform on, with thick black curtains hanging above and around it in a semi-circle. There were only a dozen tables, almost as though the entertainment wasn’t the focus of the evening.

  Most of those in attendance would be standing, which was weird. It reminded me a bit of the masked ball I’d snuck into with Elah, posing as a guest. There had been drinking and dancing, but the highlight of the party had been the appetizers.

  Children.

  I’d never forget all those little faces, big eyes filled with tears or…lifeless. The hunters had freed all who’d survived after we’d massacred most of the guests, but had any of them recovered once they were returned to their families? I’m sure the hunters erased what horror they could from their minds, but there were scars that would never go away. A touch would bring back a flash of fear, but they wouldn’t know why. The only reminder would be the marks left on their bodies, which no one could explain.

  The damage that had been done to them… I wish I could make those bastards suffer for it all over again. Maybe one day I’d meet them in hell and get my chance.

  “No need to go so far, my sweet.” Cyrus motioned a servant over, taking two glasses of champagne from the tray he carried, handing me one before holding his own up in cheers. “I’m right here.”

  I couldn’t respond, because the room had gone quiet, all eyes turning to the doors at the opposite side of the room from where we’d come in. The doors opened slowly, almost as though to prolong the anticipation, but there was nothing to be seen in the shadowy hall beyond. A soft murmur filled the room and every man leaned forward to see better. I couldn’t see anything from where we sat, but I sensed a change in the atmosphere as the first man caught sight of whatever they were waiting for.

  There was a strange buzz in the air, eagerness and hunger and lust. I pressed my eyes shut, listening for the crying of children, visualizing the room for the closest way out if I had to fight to save at least a few of them. I would. I couldn’t sit here and watch them suffer. Putting Alrik at risk terrified me, but if I survived maybe I could get to him in time. Or at least find a way to warn Vince and Nicole.

  My own freedom wasn’t worth putting him in danger, but if they’d collected little ones again for their sick desires, I’d have no choice. There was no one else here to help them, no one coming, no hope unless I found a way to give it to them.

  I wasn’t much as a savior alone, not like I’d been with a dozen hunters by my side, but I’d damn well make these fuckers regret their menu for the night.

  When I opened my eyes, Cyrus was watching me, a little smirk on his lips. He nodded toward the doors as figures in white robes entered the room in single file, heads down, hands covered in the long sleeves.

  “They aren’t children, but they are young. Teenage girls, all runaways, found selling their bodies on the streets, who came to this place willingly. They’ve been kept here for months, fed and clothed, treated well as they were taught what would be expected of them.”

  “And what’s that?” I clenched my jaw as the girls stopped, facing the crowd gathered in front of the elegant windows, their backs to the few sitting at the tables with us.

  Cyrus lightly stroked the back of the hand I’d fisted on the table. “You know exactly what, pet. But don’t worry, they won’t be killed. They’re much too valuable. Rosali’s training is exceptional. These men have paid a high price for a taste of what they can do. They’ll pay more to keep them.”

  This was so…so fucking wrong. But I couldn’t stop it from happening. If the girls were willing, they would resist any attempt to free them. Who knew what they’d been promised? They’d run away for whatever reason and endured the hardship of homelessness, being used for their bodies, for who knew how long, just to make enough money to survive. Some may have had terrible addictions and Rosali had helped them break away from the deadly habits. Their blood smelled sweet and fresh, without a hint of any kind of contamination. As they lowered their hoods I could see their hair was long and silky, their skin glowing with health.

  What could I offer in the moment that would even tempt them to escape?

  Absolutely nothing.

  A scream pierced the air. Kicking and twisting her body, one last girl was dragged into the room. Her white robe was torn and bloodstained. Two guards were holding her, and she wasn’t strong enough to wrench out of their grips, but she never stopped trying as they dragged her onto the stage. Her blond hair stuck to the blood spilling from her bottom lip as she whipped her head back, catching one of her captors in the mouth.

  He growled and lifted his hand to hit her.

  “Leave her.” Rosali’s tone was sharp, but as she stepped onto the stage, the soft rose silk of her own robe flowing around her, her expression was calm. The guards shoved the girl to the floor at her feet and she curved her hand under the girl’s chin, looking down at her, a sad smile on her lips. “I had such hope for you. Why have you changed your mind about the life I’ve offered you, Kimmy?”

  “I don’t want this anymore. You said we had a choice.” The girl, Kimmy, couldn’t have been more than seventeen. Her smooth cheeks glistened with tears as she stared up at Rosali. “Please let me go. I want to go home.”

  Rosali giggled and bile filled my throat as she looked down at Kimmy as though her pain and fear were the sweetest treat. Kimmy must have been desperate to agree to any of this, but she’d realized this wasn’t the life she wanted. Her instincts were probably screaming for her to get out of here.

  But it was already too late.

  “Sweetie, I didn’t think any of you would be stupid enough to reject such a generous offer.” Rosali let out an exaggerated sigh. “I thought we’d gotten rid of all the weak ones.”

  Kimmy shook her head. “They got to walk away. Why can’t I?”


  “Oh, honey. You actually believed that?” Rosali leaned close to the girl, but spoke loud enough for us all to hear. “They’re dead. Every one of them. They didn’t go quick and neither will you.”

  A few of the girls standing in line glanced over, then quickly faced forward, likely not wanting to join Kimmy on stage.

  Trembling, Kimmy’s lips parted. She rose abruptly, but Rosali grabbed her and slammed her down, rising with the sharp heel of her black stilettoes on Kimmy’s throat.

  “None of that. It’s time to put on a show!” Rosali gestured to the stage. “We set this up just for you.”

  “No…No!” Kimmy screamed as a guard came over, reaching up out of sight behind the overhanging curtains to pull down two shackles connected to long chains. A second guard hauled Kimmy to her feet, lifting her wrists so the first guard could restrain her. She was still shaking her head as Rosali watched her, lips slanted in amusement. “You can’t do this!”

  “I already have.” Rosali clucked her tongue. “You don’t think you’re the first to make such a horrible choice, do you?”

  One guard handed Rosali a whip and Kimmy’s eyes widened. She paled and jerked at the chains. Metallic clinking filled the room as the crowd watched Rosali back up a few feet, lazily sweeping the length of the whip across the floor like it was a new toy she couldn’t wait to play with. She flicked her wrist.

  CRACK!

  “Stop!” I shoved away from the table, my heart in my throat. The whip hadn’t touched Kimmy, but she sobbed and trembled as though fear alone had ripped her apart. She wouldn’t last long being tortured and if Rosali wasn’t having fun, she’d kill the girl. Or leave her to the guards, which would be so much worse. “Let her go.”

  Rosali arched one delicate brow, glancing over at Cyrus, who’d relaxed in his chair, watching me as though I’d just done a neat trick.

  Seeing that he wouldn’t interfere, Rosali turned her attention to me. “But why?”