by Ava Walsh
Alex sounded defeated. “I tried everything,” he told him, “I amped up the charm, played to her ambition and vanity, tried scaring her into taking it – I even flirted with her... nothing worked.”
Even in his current state, Sebastien couldn’t help but snicker. “You don’t usually see flirtation as a sacrifice,” he teased his friend, but Alex was not amused.
“She’s fat,” he replied, sounding like a whiny child, and Sebastien rolled his eyes.
“And she didn’t immediately fall for you,” he noted.
“And she didn’t immediately fall for me.” Alex confirmed the true source of his irritation. He was much too used to being adored by both men and women alike for his pride to take being brushed off so easily by anyone, let alone someone he considered severely unattractive – a category that included far too many people to make Alex a realistic judge of anyone’s physical appeal.
“So what do we do now?” Alex asked, all lightness gone from the conversation.
“You know what we do now,” Sebastien replied with a sigh. He hated being driven to such drastic measures, but he was desperate... and rapidly running out of time. If it had been only his life on the line, he’d never stoop so low, but his entire Clan was in jeopardy – and unless they found a way to defeat the disease, their entire species.
He had no other choice.
“I don’t like this, Seb,” Alex said gravely. Sebastien closed his eyes.
“Me neither,” he said. “But it has to be done. Keith confided in her. She was a big part of his research, even if she had no idea what she was doing, and knows more about the recent developments in his works than she’s aware. She could be instrumental to finding the cure, and we can’t risk missing that chance, no matter how small.” After all, if his brother-in-law was willing to put everything on the line to use her expertise, then she had to be able to do something he couldn’t, something he couldn’t get from anyone else.
They needed her, and if she wouldn’t come to them on her own, they had to take her by force.
“Have the team on standby,” he ordered. “I want her here tonight.”
Chapter Three
Kendra managed to finish her work just in the nick of time and was waiting for her cab at the curb in front of her apartment building by 9 pm. She honestly couldn’t wait to get on that plane and leave all her worries behind. She’d splurged way more on this vacation than she probably should have, but damn it, she needed some rest and relaxation, and more than deserved the pampering she’d arranged.
Just then, a cab pulled over and an uncommonly handsome young man stepped out from the driver’s side. “Miss Allenby?” he asked, and Kendra was too glad he was there on time to bother correcting him, simply nodding in reply instead. The cabbie said nothing, just nodded back and started loading her bags into the trunk before opening the door to the back for her.
“Thank you,” Kendra said, a little weirded out by his behavior, but choosing not to let it bother her too much. So the kid was a little antisocial, big deal. He probably had his reasons.
And she was right... but the cabbie’s reasons turned out to be more sinister than she thought.
For the most of the ride, other than the silence, nothing was out of the ordinary, and Kendra spent that time on her phone, replying to emails. It was by sheer accident that she happened to lift her head when the cabbie took what she knew to be the wrong turn. “You should’ve taken the left,” she said, her brow furrowing a little, but he said continued to drive as if she hadn’t spoken at all. Suddenly, Kendra began feeling anxious. She put the phone down and knocked on the glass panel between them. “Excuse me,” she called out to him, praying that he had simply misheard her but fearing much, much worse. “You’re going the wrong way,” she told him, but instead of a reply, he just stopped the car.
Out of nowhere, two more men entered the cab, one taking the passenger’s seat in the front, and Alexander Beauchamp taking the back seat with her.
Eyes wide in shock, Kendra reached for the pepper spray in her purse, but Mr. Beauchamp grabbed her by the chin, moving much, much faster than any human should’ve been able to, and his eyes, glistening silver, burrowed into hers.
“Sleep,” he ordered...
...and the next thing she knew, she was waking up on a bed in a strange room, rising up with a start, as if waking from a nightmare. Her heart beat wildly as she frantically looked around, trying to process what had happened to her, fear muddling her mind so much that she didn’t even realize someone else was in the room with her until they spoke.
“Good evening, Dr. Allenby.” A very deep, very masculine voice drew her attention to the chair by the window. Bathed in the dim light of a nearby floor lamp, a very rough looking man sat there, comfortably sprawled, chin resting atop his hand, his arm propped on the armrest. He looked indolent, yet the almost predatory level of focus in his eyes made Kendra believe he’d take no more than a second to pounce at her throat if he thought her a threat. There was something... very hungry about him, a sharp edge she couldn’t quite identify, but it hit her deep on a very instinctive level, and she knew she needed to be very careful around him.
But that didn’t mean she was willing to play the damsel in distress.
“Who are you and where the hell am I?” she demanded to know.
“You are where you need to be,” he replied, without much emotion. “And I am your host for the time being. My name is Sebastien Roche.”
Roche...
The pieces fell into place.
“Do you always kidnap people who refuse to come work for you?” she asked, showing what was probably too much anger for someone who needed to watch their step.
“If you’d taken our offer, there wouldn’t have been a need to bring you in by force,” he said dismissively. “All you need to know is that the only way you will walk out of here is if you do what I tell you to.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You will,” he told her with absolute certainty. “You have no other choice.”
Well. That wasn’t ominous or anything.
“People will notice I’m gone,” she said, trying to plant a seed of doubt in him.
It didn’t work.
“We sent an email from your phone to the resort, canceling your arrangement,” he replied matter-of-factly. “And we know you chose a secluded resort, and that no one expects to hear from you until after your return. Do your job right, and you’ll be released before anyone realizes something’s wrong.”
Insane. The man was positively insane. “And you think that I won’t instantly go to the police because...?”
Sebastien Roche rose from his seat and approached the bed slowly, like a prowling tiger. “You’ll see why soon enough,” he said, watching her intently. She should’ve been terrified of the way he looked at her, the way he loomed over the bed... but, as much as she hated to admit, though she still felt the need to be careful around him, the fear was slowly dissipating, making it harder and harder for her to ignore the raw strength emanating from him. It wasn’t just his build, either. Oh, yes, he was tall, taller than most men she knew, and built to exquisite proportion, all hard muscle under that mocha skin, accentuated rather than hidden by the tight black t-shirt and dark blue jeans that hung low on his hips. His dark hair was cropped close to the scalp, and his face, rough but handsome, carried features that spoke of his Creole ancestry, gifting him full lips, an aquiline nose and expressive, amber eyes.
But there was more to him than that. No man could exude such power on physique alone, even such an impressive one as his was. There was... a sense of command about him like he was someone used to dealing out orders and seeing them obeyed without question. It struck a very primal nerve within her, which annoyed her to no end. He had snatched her against her will and with the intent to force her into god knows what, all because she had refused to take the bait he’d dangled before her just earlier that day! She should despise him, not be thinking about how hot he was. For c
rying out loud, she’d just met the man – she should at least hold out for a few days before she let Stockholm Syndrome kick in.
For a minute or so, he just stood there, watching her, but then he closed his eyes and sighed, making Kendra wonder what exactly was going through his head.
“There’s food on the night stand,” he said, abruptly opening his eyes, and beginning to walk to the door. “The shower’s to your left, and your clothes are in the wardrobe. Eat, get dressed and come find me. The guards at the door will show you the way.” And, just like that, he was gone.
Frowning, Kendra got off the bed and approached the window. She had no idea where she was, though she suspected it was somewhere in Louisiana – she knew from conversations with Dr. Duquesne that Roche Laboratories was situated in Louisiana, and her host’s lazy drawl only solidified her presumption. The exact location, however, remained a mystery, for all she could see was an enormous lawn and the beginning of a wood that seemed to stretch out endlessly into the dark. The window was barred, and it seemed the room was at least two floors up, which instantly eliminated one possible escape route. She was still wearing the clothes she was in when her cab was jumped, so at least she knew they hadn’t violated her... any more than they already had, that was. She thought that the cabbie was probably in on the whole thing, and cursed herself for not trusting her instincts when she should have. Now she was in a mess she had no idea how to get out of, and had only the word of her captor that she would survive the ordeal.
She found the main switch on the wall and turned on the light. The room they had put her in was large, and decorated in the ornate elegance of Louis Quinze. Pretty, but not something she’d choose herself. Still, it spoke of the kind of luxury one couldn’t easily acquire within a single lifetime and confirmed many rumors about the reclusive Roche family, who were rumored to be involved in many charities and even more investments, working mostly through intermediaries so they could enjoy their lives far away from the public eye.
Turning her mind to her current predicament, Kendra began to investigate the room, hoping to find something, anything that would give her at least some advantage, but she was out of luck. Her kidnappers clearly knew what they were doing. The only things in the room were her clothes, shoes and cosmetics, all neatly arranged in appropriate locations. Her laptop, her phone, her documents... she had no idea where they were, but they sure as hell weren’t here.
Sighing in frustration, she decided that, for the time being, she needed to play the part of the good little captive. Perhaps if she made herself seem unthreatening, they’d loosen up the restraints they had on her and she could escape, or at least sneak a secret message out when they force her into sending one of those emails Sebastien spoke of. She sat on the edge of the bed, next to the nightstand, where a large serving tray held a covered plate and a bone china set consisting of a single cup and saucer, a sugar bowl, a creamer dish and a pot of coffee. She lifted the cloche off the plate to reveal a beautifully prepared meal of broiled chicken with steamed rice and a colorful mix of sautéed vegetables on the side. Her mouth watered at the sight of it – she’d skipped dinner, counting on the in-flight meal, which she had clearly never received. She wondered if she should leave the food untouched, but decided that would be counterproductive. If she intended to run the first chance she had, she needed to keep her strength... and she could really use the coffee. She had no idea what time it was, but it was night and she was obviously expected to stay up a while longer. The more alert she could keep herself, the better.
Half an hour or so later, the plate was polished, the coffee was gone, and Kendra had made full use of the bathroom, which was just as large and lavish as she expected it to be. She’d changed her clothes as well, and once she felt she was as ready to face whatever it was that awaited her outside this room as she’d ever be, she knocked on the door and waited for the guards Sebastien told her were there to open it.
She wasn’t surprised at all when one of those guards turned out to be Alexander Beauchamp.
This time, she didn’t even bother to control herself and smacked the bastard with a jab to the cheek that would’ve made her Tae Bo instructor proud.
She expected the other guard to restrain her, but he just laughed heartily while Beauchamp swore like a sailor.
“Well.” The other man turned to Kendra, clearly amused (and, dare she say, impressed?). “Now that you got that out of your system... I’m Stefan. You ready to go?”
She nodded, trading dirty looks with Beauchamp before they took her away to hopefully find out what the hell was going on.
Chapter Four
Sebastien slammed the door of his office loudly and rested against it, suppressing the urge to bang his head back against the hard wood. Damn it. He had not expected the visceral reaction he had to Kendra Allenby and had no idea how to deal with it. This was supposed to be a regretfully forceful but fairly simple operation – they would bring in the woman, introduce her to their problem and put her to work in their labs, where she would hopefully find whatever it was they’d been missing for the past year in time to contain the infection and secure the premises before the Great Gathering.
But all it took was one look at her and he wanted to throw all the plans through the window and take her to bed.
It disturbed him on a number of levels. He had a healthy appetite and enjoyed indulging it whenever a willing partner could be found, which was often. It was uncomplicated and carnal, and he didn’t need anything more. Oh, sure, a number of ladies had notions of snagging the Clan Prince for themselves, but Sebastien wasted no time dispelling such delusions whenever they appeared. He felt no desire to be tied down to a single woman, and sincerely doubted he ever would. Sex was both a need and an entertainment, but never in his 177 years had he met a woman who made him feel anything but a passing physical attraction.
But this... this human... she was unconscious, lying on a bed in one of his many guest rooms when he first saw her, and he wanted to snarl at everyone to leave them alone, lock the door, and lay next to her so he could guard her in her sleep. And, once she woke up, he’d feed her, and bathe her, and shower her in pleasures of the flesh until she screamed his name from the top of her lungs – and he would sink his fangs into the rich vein of her throat, taking sustenance and marking her as his, forever.
Except that was the absolute worst thing he could do right now. For one, he needed her focused on work... and, more importantly, he felt like enough of a bastard for ordering the kidnapping as it was. She didn’t need to deal with his rebelling libido as well.
Unless she wanted to...
With a groan, Sebastien shook his head, putting a stop to that train of thought. It would be so easy to seduce her, so easy to use his powers to manipulate her will and turn the fear she felt into lust. But, damn it, he’d never once forced himself on a woman, and he sure as hell didn’t intend to start now. He knew many of his kind who saw nothing wrong in using their minor psychic abilities to bend humans to their will, but most vampires raised their children to see any unnecessary violation of another’s free will as tantamount to rape, a crime made even more heinous by forcing the victim to artificially enjoy it. He could not do it to her any more than he could do it to anyone else... and probably more so.
Then again, there were plenty of other things that drew women to him. He could say without conceit that they found him physically attractive even though he was not classically handsome, his features a little too rough and his style a little too casual. That didn’t seem to hurt his chances – quite the opposite, in fact – and, paired with his strong personality, it made sure that his advances would be enthusiastically welcomed more often than not.
He could have her if he wanted, he thought. He could find what made her tick and play it like a violin until she was in his bed, writhing under him in shared ecstasy.
But that was not why she was there, he reminded himself, conscious of the fact that he’d need those words like a mantra if he intende
d to give his plans any chance of success.
It was going to be difficult, though. He’d always had a weak spot for strong women, and Kendra Allenby was amongst the strongest he’d ever met, inside and out. The reports he’d read about her fascinated him. Born in the slum that was Paterson, New Jersey to a pair of emotionally volatile drunks who were too busy going at each other’s throats to take care of their child, Kendra applied herself ferociously to schoolwork, working part-time jobs to support herself, fighting for her future with everything she had. She finished high school a year early and won a scholarship to Brown, but when the time came to enter medical school, she was forced to take out a loan.
It was there she met Dr. Keith Duquesne, a visiting professor who took a shine to the fierce young woman and used his influence to make every step of her way as easy as he could. On his request, she was granted both residency and fellowship at the Moffitt Cancer Center, finally taking her position as his assistant and working under him until he left MCC at the request of Sebastien’s father when the disease started ravaging through the Clan. He was grooming her to become his successor, and if things hadn’t taken a turn for the worse, she’d probably have been taking over his position in a few years.
And, as if all that wasn’t enough, she was also one of the most beautiful women Sebastien had ever met. Tall and statuesque, she had the build of a voluptuous Amazon, strong and thick in all the right places. Oh, sure, he could see how Alex could classify her as simply fat, but Sebastien though himself rather less shallow than his best friend. The way she held herself, confident and proud, and clearly perfectly comfortable in her own body, gave her an almost regal bearing, which only made her more attractive to him. It was obvious, despite the generous padding, that she took good care of herself, from the abundance of energy she exuded to the healthy glow of her dark cinnamon skin. Her style presented a rather strange but appealing mix of practical and bold. She let her hair coil naturally, cropped short and layered throughout, giving her a simple and elegant look that required minimum maintenance, but favored bold colors in her makeup. Her clothes, while simple, professional and cut to flatter her figure, combined dark tones with splashes of bright details, revealing a keen, meticulous mind and a wild, passionate heart.
