by Todd Gregory
Yes, the boy on the cell phone.
That was the last thing I remembered, walking up to him and then everything went green.
I had no idea how I’d gotten here, wherever I was, or what he had done to me.
He’d known who I was, had called me by name, said he’d been waiting for me.
Who the hell was he, and what did he want from me?
I tried remembering what he looked like, but for some reason whenever I tried to picture his face, his body, what he’d been wearing, all I could see was green haze.
I blinked rapidly a few times, and the water cleared. I needed to get an idea of where I was before the next hunger pang consumed me again.
The room was dark as pitch, but of course I could see through the darkness. I tried again to sit up but my arms were restrained at the wrists. I tried to raise my head, but there was also some kind of restraint around my neck. I was tied down, spread-eagled, so that I could barely move.
And I was naked.
This is exactly the way I’d been restrained by Sebastian that night.
I swallowed and closed my eyes again. Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? I opened my eyes and turned my head to one side. I could make out the wall—it looked like it was cinder block. There were no windows on that side, so I rolled my head the other way to stare at another wall of cinder blocks. There was a small rectangle up near the ceiling that could be a window, but it was completely blacked out. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, moving my eyes as much as I could—but there was nothing I could detect that would be helpful up there, either.
I strained to listen, to see if I could hear anything beyond the walls; there was nothing but silence.
Of all times for that stupid bitch to not be listening to my thoughts, I thought angrily. How was I taken without them knowing anyway?
I opened my eyes and looked around the room again, as much as I could without being able to lift my head. I felt the cramp coming and started breathing more rapidly in an attempt to lessen its exquisite agony. When the pang came, it was even more blindingly intense than the last one. With no other choice, I opened my mouth and screamed as loudly as I could. It seemed to go on forever; it felt like my body was on fire and being ripped in half.
Death would have been preferable.
It faded away, leaving me gasping for air, tears streaming out of my eyes.
If I didn’t feed soon—
I heard a door swing open, and the room filled with a dazzling light from above as a switch was flipped. I couldn’t see who it was but could sense him—for it was definitely a male. Men and women smell profoundly different.
And more important, I could smell his blood, hear his heartbeat. It took all of my strength not to growl in anticipation.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” the man said in a soft, low voice. I heard him shuffle across the room until he was at my side, and I rolled my head to the left so I could look at him.
He was dressed in a black silk shirt that was open to just below his rib cage, revealing smooth skin and a deep valley between his pectoral muscles. His pants appeared to be made from clinging black velvet that outlined the strong muscles of his legs. There was a prominent bulge in the crotch area. He had long, curly blond hair that fell gently to his shoulders and deep green eyes that almost glowed in the darkness on either side of a strong, sculpted nose. There were dimples in his pale cheeks as he looked at me, and his lips were thick and sensual.
Around his neck was a gold chain, from which hung a green stone.
The green stone—it was like the one in the boy’s ring.
As I stared at it, it started glowing.
He stretched a white wrist to my mouth, and with his other hand stroked my forehead. “Go ahead, bite my wrist, drink from me,” he instructed in a soft, gentle voice. He smiled. “You are so beautiful, so much more beautiful than I thought you would be, than I could have possibly hoped for. Go ahead, don’t be afraid—I’m not going to hurt you.” He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Can’t you hear my heart beating? Can’t you smell my warm blood?”
But it wasn’t just his blood I could smell. Oh, the metallic coppery smell of his blood was definitely there, and there was an underlying sweetness that was unusual—and I could feel my cock beginning to harden from its scent—but I could smell his essence above that.
It wasn’t quite human.
Don’t drink from him—it’s a big mistake.
The hunger tore through me again, and I sank my teeth into his wrist, even if I knew somehow I shouldn’t. I had to stop the agony, make it go away, do whatever it took to never feel that way again. My canines sliced through his skin and the blood . . . I could taste it at last and nothing else mattered.
His eyes closed and he moaned as I tore into his skin, ripped it apart in my need. I closed my mouth around the jagged holes, and his warm blood flooded my mouth. I gulped hungrily, greedily, yet even as I lost myself in the unspeakable pleasure of replenishing myself, I knew there was too much blood. No one I’d ever drank from before had filled my mouth so quickly.
Something was definitely wrong here.
The blood tasted sweet, as though it were mixed with raw honey, and it was also more viscous than most. I gulped it down and felt intoxicated from its power and taste. I could feel my muscles growing stronger with every swallow, my veins almost on fire as this blood absorbed into my system and ran through me. My eyes began moving rapidly from side to side, and my cock got harder, my balls were aching and demanding some form of release, and I could feel it; an orgasm was beginning. I was going to come, but I didn’t care, not as long as I could drink from him. Who was he? What was he? I didn’t care . . .
“That’s enough,” he whispered in my ear. “Let go of me.”
It was a command, and even though the bloodlust was still driving me, I withdrew my fangs from his arm and opened my mouth.
He held the wrist above my mouth and allowed more blood to drip into my mouth. “You know what to do,” he whispered, and my tongue darted out, licking the tears and getting the last drops, until the wounds closed.
He smiled and waved his arm. The blinding overhead light went out, and candles mounted in sconces on the walls burst into flame, casting flickering light and shadows through the room.
“I find candlelight to be more pleasant than electric light, don’t you?” he asked in a slightly bemused tone.
I used my tongue to get every last drop of blood on my lips and dribbling down my chin.
“For such advanced creatures, vampires are truly little more than animals,” he said. His voice was full of both wonder and amusement.
“Why have you taken me?” I asked. “Let me go.” I pulled against the wrist restraints.
“That isn’t possible,” he replied. He held up the green stone, which sparkled and flashed in the candlelight. “It wasn’t my idea to take you in the first place. I think this is a terrible mistake—”
“We all know what you think, Nico,” a similar yet deeper voice said from the doorway.
I strained to see him, but the bond around my neck wouldn’t allow me to raise my head enough to see this newcomer.
“He was responsible for Sebastian’s death,” the voice continued.
I could hear his footsteps as he walked into the room. He, too, I could smell—his essence was very similar to the one he called Nico. He moved to my side, directly opposite Nico, and I turned my eyes that way so I could get a good look at him.
He was very similar to Nico; they were identical in every respect, only where Nico was fair, this stranger was dark. Thick, dark curls cascaded to his shoulders. His eyes were almost black under broad dark eyebrows. His skin was swarthy rather than pale, like Nico, and he wore a white silk shirt, open so I could see the almost identical chest development. But where Nico was smooth, thick curly black hair covered the skin of his chest, and the bulge in the front of his white velvet trousers was bigger than of the man on my other side. It was
almost like one was the negative image of the other, identical but somehow reversed.
Two halves of a whole.
Sebastian and Quentin.
Twins—yin and yang—the most powerful witches came in pairs. Twins.
“Sebastian was a fool who played with fire and asked for death, if not from this one than from another, more powerful one,” Nico replied with a toss of his head that made his curls bounce defiantly. “Why avenge the death of a fool?”
“Fool or not, he was our master, and his spirit will not rest until we avenge him,” the dark one replied. “You know that as well as I.” He looked down at me and stroked my cheek with his hand. “He is beautiful, though. Such a waste of masculine beauty. Perhaps . . .” He smiled. “We don’t have to kill him right away, you know. We can have fun with him first.” He leaned down so his eyes were gazing into mine, and I could smell his breath. “Would you like to have some fun with us, honored guest?”
“I’m sorry, Cord.” Nico sniffed disdainfully. “My brother, as you can see, while extremely brave, is also exceptionally stupid.” He crossed his arms, and I could see the veins in his forearms. “Sebastian was as big a fool as you, my brother. He tried to do something forbidden without the help of his twin. We can work together.” He smiled. “And be much stronger than Sebastian ever could have hoped to be.”
Quentin. Sebastian had wanted my vampire-tainted blood so that he could be a god—could he have succeeded had he been working with Quentin?
What were these two going to do to me?
I could feel strength, power, coursing through my veins. My muscles felt stronger, the fibers thickening as though my skin couldn’t contain them as they grew, and my eyes, my vision, I could see even better than I could before.
What had his blood done to me?
Witch blood—was I becoming an abomination? A hybrid of vampire and witch?
“Why am I here?” I asked again. “What are you going to do to me?”
The dark one smiled at me and reached down to run his fingers along the side of my face again and then down my neck. I thrilled to his touch; his fingertips felt like they were sending currents of electricity into my body, and involuntarily my head turned to him, like a flower turning to the sun. “You see, Nico?” he said mockingly. “He turns to me rather than you, as they all do eventually.”
“And they always leave you in the end, too, don’t they, Lorenzo?” Nico said in an equally mocking tone. “One after the other, they run as quickly as they can, to get as far from you as possible.”
“Just my touch makes his cock hard,” Lorenzo continued in his taunting tone, as though Nico hadn’t spoken a word. He moved his fingers down my throat and down the center of my chest, toying with my nipple. I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip.
He was making me incredibly horny, damn him to hell.
“His cock was already hard, you fool.” Venom dripped from every word. I sensed something violent radiating off Nico.
“Why am I here?” I asked yet again, not expecting an answer. “Just let me go.”
“Our master demands you be sacrificed in order that he might find his eternal rest,” Lorenzo said dreamily as his fingertips continued to brush against my skin, moving from my clavicle down my stomach. His index finger slid into my navel, and he scratched the inside of it softly, gently. Desire shot through me, and I wanted him in that moment. No, I wanted both of them—
The green stone hanging around Lorenzo’s neck began to glow brighter, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Nico’s stone was glowing also.
“He cursed you,” Lorenzo went on as his fingertips grazed the skin just above my pubic hair, “and his mark is on you. You keep him tethered to this world, this dimension, and he longs for peace.”
“Then maybe he shouldn’t have cursed me.” My voice sounded weak, wavery, and breathless to my ears, and my breath was coming in quick little gasps as his fingers continued to stroke the skin between my navel and my cock, the tips barely brushing against the skin—enough contact to make me tremble and ache with need and desire, but just barely, and all I could think was how I wished I was free of my bonds so that I could hold both of them against me, kiss them both even if they were brothers.
“It isn’t the curse that keeps him here,” Nico interrupted my reverie, and I wished he would touch me in the way Lorenzo was, “and you know that, Lorenzo. You simply want revenge because Sebastian was with him and you’re jealous. Sebastian wanted his blood, yes, but Sebastian also desired him, could have loved him in time, and you—”
“Silence!” Lorenzo roared so loudly my ears rang, and even worse, his fingers were no longer in contact with my skin. I could feel anger coming from him now—the violence was still radiating from Nico, and the two energies met just above my stomach, and I could almost see it.
Their stones were glowing so brightly the room seemed to be alive with green fire.
“Perhaps we should leave him, my brother,” Nico said smoothly, but his breath was shallow, almost panting, “and continue this discussion in private?”
“Don’t leave me here alone, please,” I pleaded as their eyes locked over my prone body. The green stones began to dim as their faces relaxed and they smiled at each other. They both leaned over and kissed me on opposite cheeks, and they joined hands over me and walked out of the room.
The door shut behind them.
I let my head fall back and closed my eyes.
I was a prisoner, and this all had something to do with Sebastian.
Sebastian had been their master, and they wanted me for something. Maybe they wanted the same thing Sebastian had wanted, to drink my blood and become gods. They loved each other, but at the same time they were competitive, almost to the point of hatred and violence.
And what were the green stones?
But, I reasoned, at least this proves that Miss Know-It-All Rachel was wrong about Quentin. He doesn’t have anything to do with this.
Small comfort. I was still the prisoner of this strange pair of twins.
Sebastian’s soul was still tethered to the earth, and I gathered from what Nico said that he was something more to Lorenzo.
Yet neither of them was the boy from Dauphine Street who had mesmerized me with his own green stone. Who had that been?
How many of them were there?
Rachel and Nigel couldn’t possibly have any idea where I was. They hadn’t even known I was being taken, so I couldn’t hold out any hope they would come to my rescue. Besides, if these two were witches—and what else could they be?—Nigel and Rachel wouldn’t be able to read their thoughts or find them. I didn’t know how long I’d been gone, yet surely they knew I was missing by now.
But maybe, just maybe, they could find me.
I cursed Jean-Paul for not teaching me the vampire telepathy trick.
I might as well give it a try.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, pictured the two of them sitting around in the living room of my house. I focused on both of them and thought with as much concentration and energy as I could muster.
“Rachel! Nigel! I’ve been taken prisoner! Please come find me!”
As I repeated the thought over and over, I felt power surging through my body—power I’d never felt before. The candles flickered as I kept focusing, and I closed my eyes to shut out other distractions. My body was tingling, every hair on it standing on end.
There was no answer.
I don’t know how long I tried, but when I finally opened my eyes again, exhausted and frustrated, the candles had burned about halfway down.
Angrily I yanked my head to one side—and to my surprise, the metal cuff holding my neck down snapped free of its hasp. Stunned, I sat there for just a moment, not sure what had just happened.
The surge of power I’d felt . . . Had drinking Nico’s witch blood somehow made me stronger, more powerful?
I closed my eyes and tried to raise my arms, focusing on the muscles in my upper arms and shoulder
s. They strained, but I felt the surging power and strength, and those cuffs, too, snapped as if they were made of paper.
I sat up and rubbed my wrists, which felt stiff and a little sore from being so rigidly restrained.
I looked around the room, but I didn’t see my clothes anywhere. I slid down the stone slab, and in a matter of moments snapped my ankles free. I hopped down from the stone slab and stretched. The only window was far over my head, the one I’d noticed before that had been blacked out, and I couldn’t reach it. I pressed my hands against each wall in turn. They were stone, and cold, and there was a cold breeze blowing from a vent above my head. I looked up at it, but the ceiling was easily fifteen feet above the floor; besides, even if I could somehow reach it, it was far too narrow for my body to fit through. I went to the door and turned the knob. I almost laughed out loud as it turned in my hand and opened.
No need to lock the door when you have me tied up, right, guys ?
I hesitated before walking out, though. Surely Nico had known what his blood would do to me? And the door being left unlocked—maybe it was a trick, a trap of some sort.
I peered out the doorway into a long hallway with other, similar doors in even intervals its entire length. Candles burned in sconces mounted on the walls. There was no one around, so I slipped out into the hallway. I checked in every cell, but each was empty. I was apparently the only prisoner in this building. I hurried down the hall, keeping an eye out for anything I could use to cover myself with. I had to find clothes of some sort—there was no way I could walk around outside stark naked once I managed to escape this building—with no luck. Finally, I reached the end of the hall. I opened the door and found myself staring across a long lawn of perfectly manicured grass to where a huge mansion stood, surrounded by massive live oaks, beards of Spanish moss hanging from their heavy branches. The mansion was ablaze with light. There was a long driveway on the other side, lined with huge oak trees. There were an awful lot of cars parked along the driveway, which made me curious.
Something was going on at the house.
