Blood Entangled

by Amber Belldene

  “Why?” Leo replied with a whine.

  “Because you’re just a…you’re too young for me. And you shouldn’t have sex for the first time in a prison cell, or a closet.”

  And, on top of not really being into the annoying kid, maybe he should be honest…

  “And, because I’m with Pedro.”

  Even if he hates me, and we’re stuck in blow job limbo.

  Seated on the floor with his knees drawn up, Lucas dozed in and out of sleep. He awoke with a jolt when the door to the closet opened again. A man was shoved into the dark space and the door slammed behind him. What now?

  “Who’s here?” the man asked. His voice wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, but Lucas couldn’t place him.

  “Leo Caroli.”

  “Lucas Bennett.”

  “Fuck.”

  Whoever he was, he knew them, then. “That on your birth certificate or just a nickname?”

  “Derek Nichols.”

  Lucas remembered the competent suck up from the mission against Marasović.

  The three Hunters sat in silence until Derek spoke. “Lucas, I wasn’t expecting you to be held captive—thought you’d be a vampire hero after the stunt you pulled to save that male blood slave.”

  Leo drew in a breath, about to speak. Lucas kicked him, or to be more precise, he kicked into the dark and hoped to hit the kid. It landed with just enough impact to shut him up.

  “Expected wrong, then, didn’t you. How’d they catch you?” Lucas had a feeling Derek hadn’t been as stupid as Leo.

  “Doing a little project for your brother. Got sniffed out.”

  “I thought Ethan called everything off,” Leo said.

  Lucas had to give the kid credit. Not a bad question, actually.

  Derek cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I’m part of the research team.”

  Surely Derek didn’t know about the book. What else would Ethan be researching?

  “So why haven’t they killed you?” Derek asked.

  Nope, he didn’t know about the book, or he would know their blood was liquid gold to the vampires.

  “Mercy,” Leo answered, and Lucas smiled in the dark.

  Derek snorted. “Yeah, right. But why? No offense—you two aren’t exactly hostages worth bargaining for—kid cowboy and fag traitor.”

  Perhaps emboldened by his new label, Leo spoke up. “Is this like a metaphor or something? I didn’t think Hunters and vampires ever bargained?”

  Again, not a bad question. Kid was too smart and too queer for whatever small town he was stuck in. With new respect for Leo, Lucas answered the question. “It’s not unprecedented. There are a few cases when a high profile Hunter was captured and exchanged for a head start evacuating the vampire’s household. But, Derek here knows he’s not that important.”

  “True, and nobody wants to give Marasović a head start,” Derek confirmed. “So, seriously, what’s your theory on why you are still alive?”

  Leo replied, “It’s not a theory, man. They didn’t kill me because they say I’m a kid, which I’m not. But apparently they don’t kill kids.”

  “They told you that?” Derek asked.

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll tell you why I’m alive if you answer one question for me first,” Lucas said. He was beginning to form a plan. Leo would cooperate, but would Derek?

  “I’ll decide when I hear the question.”

  “Why do you hate vampires?”

  “Because they are—”

  “Stop.” If the answer came that fast, it wasn’t the one Lucas was looking for. He gave him another chance. “Don’t repeat what you’ve always been told. Look inside. Why do you hate them?”

  Derek was quiet for a long time, far longer than he would need to answer what Lucas had asked.

  “Not going to share?”

  “Still thinking about it.”

  “Take your time.” There was no hurry, but there was a limit. When they reached the limit, Derek would cooperate or Lucas would have to kill him barehanded in the cell. Not impossible, but it would upset Leo, for sure.

  Lucas balled up his sweater and used it as a pillow. Time passed in silence, and he drifted in and out of sleep.

  The door opened suddenly, and light flooded in, blinding him.

  “Get out here, Nichols,” Kos said.

  The door slammed behind him. Lucas checked his watch—four a.m.

  Outside in the workroom, Derek cursed the vampires with the same old Hunter drivel. A terrible ripping sound began, so loud Lucas’s scalp crawled until he recognized it—duct tape being pulled off the roll.

  They were probably taping Derek to the table, the same way Ethan had Pedro—nice turnabout move. That could have only been Pedro’s idea.

  They wouldn’t come close to the kind of torture Ethan had inflicted, but Derek didn’t know that, which is what would make it effective.

  “I wonder if he knows about the girl?” Leo said.

  “What girl?” Lucas asked.

  “The blond cook.”

  “What about her?”

  Cold sweat beaded on Pedro’s forehead and dribbled down his temples.

  “You could just talk, you know. Put an end to all of this.” Kos sounded even and calm, like his always-reasonable self.

  “Fuck you, filthy parasite.” The Hunter spat. He did not sound so reasonable.

  They had matching sets of goddamn golden peepers, he and the Hunter. Derek’s yellow eyes seemed sharp even though his drivel of hate revealed he was dumber than he looked.

  Vertical, he was about Pedro’s height, a few inches shy of six feet. But he lay horizontal. Omar held him down, as Andre taped wrists, ankles, hips. It had been Pedro’s own damn idea, but it triggered some nasty stress of the post-traumatic variety. He was right there in the shed on Ethan’s operating table all over again.

  Kos clapped a hand on Pedro’s shoulder. “You okay? You’re sweating bullets.”

  Derek’s eyes flashed wide. What did you know: his freak-out played right into their plan. Good cop, bad cop, totally fucked in the head cop.

  “I’m just happy somebody else is on the table this go round.” He tried to sound gleeful, vengeful. He just felt sick.

  Kos caught on fast. “Yeah, you were in bad shape when Lucas brought you back. How are your toes now?”

  Derek’s heart hammered loudly, a steady beat all the vampires could hear.

  “My toenails are growing back. The scars are gone around my ankles too. Vampire healing is cool shit. Too bad you won’t have that going for you, Hunter.” He patted the man’s shin.

  Derek struggled uselessly under the tape. “Fuck off. You’re evil, disgusting—unnatural!”

  Was that what Hunters really thought? Because that wasn’t how Lucas treated him.

  Kos untied the Hunter’s shoes. “Bennett took off most of the skin up to your knee, right Pedro?”

  “Hey, I don’t really want to talk about it.” Truth. “Let’s get down to business. I hear Omar’s a real professional when it comes to this sick shit. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Pedro studied the Hunter. Acrid sweat and a pounding heart gave away his fear, though he looked calm enough. The faster they triggered his panic, the faster they could stop the charade. And Pedro would like to get as far as he could from memory lane.

  “You’re the enemy of humans and you have to be exterminated! All of you. Evil, parasites. Fuck you.”

  The hate was his mantra. Derek shouted out anything and everything he had ever been told about vampires, or at least that was how it sounded—like a checklist.

  Shit, exterminated?

  Somehow Pedro knew that when Lucas kissed him, held him, sucked him, he wasn’t thinking about extermination. Derek’s hate put Lucas into sharp relief, and made his betrayal with the drawings feel small-time.

  Andre stood off to the side, concentrating on the scene with a grave glare.

  Kos stood next to Pedro, looking back and forth between him and the Hunter. “Y
eah, Omar’s the real deal. But I hope it doesn’t go that far. Why don’t you just talk, Hunter? Save us all this ugliness.”

  Pedro jostled Kos’s shoulder. “Shut the hell up. I don’t wanna be spared the ugliness. You saw what Bennett did to me, right Omar?”

  “Yeah, man, I saw it. But I don’t mess around with extremities. That tape is perfect Andre, just high enough to leave access to what a man values most.”

  Derek’s pupils dilated and his lips were a white line. “You sick fucks! Nasty, dirty, blood suckers!”

  Pedro’s job was to be fucked-in-the-head cop, so he tried to make his torture sound like foreplay. “Seems like a shame—it’s over so fast that way. Ethan really knew how to draw it out.”

  Kos arranged tools on a tray like an OCD nurse preparing for surgery—perfectly aligned butter knives and garden shears, not the pliers and blades Ethan had used on him…he sucked in a lungful of air, and a bit of tension melted away.

  Something about this ridiculous role-play was changing the memory. The shed receded further in his mind.

  “Oh, I can make it last for him.” Omar’s grin cut a huge white crescent in his handsome onyx face. Pedro very nearly smiled back.

  Kos sucked his teeth and shook his. “Last chance, man.”

  Omar smacked him. “Kos, you softie, shut up and cut his pants off.”

  “Listen,” Derek suddenly spat, “I really don’t know anything.”

  “That’s what they all say.” Omar crossed his long arms over his chest.

  “They do.” Now Kos was nodding agreeably with that same pitying expression. “You’ll have to start with what you do know.”

  Again, Pedro wanted to laugh, but Derek’s shout came first. “Seriously, nothing!”

  Omar began to cut up the leg of his rumpled khaki pants. Only the sound of the scissors snipping broke the silence. “Okay. Okay. We know about the wine. That it makes you strong.”

  Pedro snorted. That much was a no-brainer, since they’d tried to burn the vineyards down.

  “What else?” Kos whispered, all gentle, good-cop coaxing.

  Omar kept shearing the pants open.

  “That’s it!” Tears ran down the Hunters face, spilling from his widened eyes.

  “What’s Ethan up to?”

  Derek gasped and sobbed as Omar’s scissors neared his groin. “I don’t know! Oh fuck, stop, please stop.”

  Omar paused mid-snip. “You think that’s all he knows, Kos?”

  Kos leaned over and peered into the Hunter’s face, sniffing. Finally, he ran his palm up his forehead and grabbed hold of his hair. “Yep. Useless. You really do know nothing.”

  A loud guffaw filled the workroom, barreling out of Andre, who’d been silent during the entire interrogation. He slapped his thighs. “I don’t mess around with extremities! That was a good one, Omar!” He covered his mouth with his big paw. Dude had been stifling his giggles the whole time.

  The laughter was contagious, spreading to Kos and Omar.

  “No no, the best line was ‘Ethan knew how to draw it out.’” Kos doubled over. “Pedro, I don’t know how you could turn your own torture session into a dirty joke. You are one sick fuck—the Hunter’s right about that.” His eyes were watering.

  As they laughed, a weight lifted from Pedro. He felt better, a lot better. Free, even.

  Still taped to the table, the Hunter’s brow creased in utter confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  Pedro met his gaze. “We faked you out, man. We don’t do torture. Aren’t you glad you don’t know shit? You would have felt really stupid if you spilled your guts.”

  Suddenly, Pedro’s limbs tingled, and there were way too many people sharing his oxygen. “I need some air. Gonna walk outside for a while.”

  Kos got between him and the door. “Hey, you okay? That couldn’t have been easy.”

  “I’m good, actually. It kind of helped. Just need some space.”

  With one more good-cop nod, Kos sidestepped out of the way.

  When Pedro was almost to the door, Andre called out. “Surviving is one thing. It takes a bigger man to face his demons.”

  It felt good to be outside. The air was cool and sweet. His breaths came easy, easier than they had in weeks. What were his demons, anyway? His lingering trauma? That didn’t seem so bad anymore. His feelings about Lucas? He didn’t seem like the enemy anymore either.

  Chapter 26

  KOS CLASPED THE HUNTER’S WRIST with one hand, not that he was putting up a fight. Clammy, pasty, reeking of fear—the guy was the epitome of wrecked.

  “Feeling a little topsy-turvy?” Kos slid a box cutter along the edge of the table, slicing through tape and freeing the Hunter.

  “Go to hell.”

  “Hmm.” Kos didn’t look at him, just balled up the tape and tossed it in a trashcan. “That’s where Hunters go, I expect.”

  Without any force, he tugged the Hunter off the table and toward the cell, where Kos nudged him inside.

  “Kos?” It was Lucas.

  “Not now.”

  “You need to hear this,” Lucas insisted. “It’s Lena.”

  Kos’s legs went limp, and he grabbed the doorframe to steady himself. What could Lucas know about Lena?

  A slice of light illuminated Leo, sitting cross-legged against the wall. He drew his knees up. “I saw an email about her from some other vampire who wanted to hire her. Sent it to Ethan right before you captured me.”

  No. That couldn’t be true. Lena was safe from Hunters at Mason’s. Ethan couldn’t know where she was.

  “There was no address on that email. He couldn’t find Mason’s house. And no one followed us.”

  “What’s going on?” Andre stepped up, a pillar of support behind Kos.

  Lucas raised his voice as if volume would penetrate the fog in Kos’s mind. “Ethan knows about Lena. He’ll use her against you if he can.”

  The only time Kos had seen Ethan had been on the hill above the charred vineyard. Lena had rushed into Kos’s arms, and the Hunter’s golden eyes had honed in on them. He would know Lena mattered to Kos.

  “Krist.”

  Lucas stood, but made no move toward the door. “Derek. What do you know about this?”

  Derek rubbed his eyes, then looked from face to face. Finally, he shrugged. “He thinks he has some kind of secret weapon.”

  Kos went cold, couldn’t feel his hands or feet—only his heart, squeezing, racing. An animal cry burst from his throat, bypassing his brain altogether.

  Andre’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Don’t panic. Call her.”

  “She won’t take my calls.”

  “Shit.” Lucas covered his eyes with his palm. “You vampires should have your own soap opera.”

  Kos tried to push past Andre out the door. “I’m going to find her.”

  Andre didn’t budge. “It’s dawn.”

  Where had the night gone?

  “We’ll send Vania,” Andre said.

  Kos pushed again. “I can make it now, if I fly.”

  “No, Kos. Think. She needs you alive, strong.” Without stepping from the doorway, Andre flipped a light switch outside the closet, filling the small space with bluish light. His stare settled on Leo. “Why are you telling us this?”

  It was Lucas who answered. “Because Leo is coming around.”

  “Around?” Kos’s brain wasn’t working.

  “He’s starting to see things my way. Becoming another vampire sympathizer.”

  “You must be joking.” Andre leaned into the doorframe. “There is no such thing as a sympathizer among Hunters.”

  “Why else do you think I’m here?” Lucas asked.

  Kos clenched his fists. Damn it, he wanted to punch something—Lucas, Andre…he settled for the wall. A fist-sized dent appeared in the plaster, chalk dust filling the small space.

  In the silence that followed, he said, “While you all negotiate peace between our races, I’m going to organize a rescue mission.”


  At Vania’s door, quiet snores vibrated through the hardwood. Kos burst in.

  “Wake up.”

  She bounded to her feet in seconds, fully dressed and alert, fine soldier that she was. “What’s happened?”

  “Ethan knows about Lena. Is planning to use her against us somehow. It’s dawn. I need you to find her.”

  She pulled on a holster, a shiny black leather jacket, combat boots. “I’ll start at Mason’s.”

  “Vania. I need you to find her.”

  “I’ll do my best. Not for you, the idiot who let her go. But because I like her, and she makes the best damn scones I’ve ever tasted. And most importantly, because I hate those mother fucking Hunters.”

  She slammed her fist into his gut, hard. Enough time around vampires had taught her not to pull those punches.

  “Learn anything from Derek?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Go back. See if he knows where Bennett would take her.”

  Lena was dreaming again. She knew it was a dream because even after Kos’s message, he hadn’t shown up to rescue her. And making love with him was too good to be true.

  His big hands lifted and stroked her breasts, teasing her nipples. His fingers slid down her belly, over her hips, and parted her legs. A corner of her mind remained firmly planted at Mason’s house. But, she gave herself over to the pleasure of the dream as his tongue swept up her core.

  The sensations were so real.

  Too real.

  She forced her eyes to open. Mason’s face was between her legs, rubbing stubble on the inside of her thighs.

  “Miss me?” His breath tickled her sensitive flesh.

  “No.”

  He laughed, and he wasn’t the only one. At the sound of another voice, Lena sat up. A man and a woman watched from across the room. Not again. Lena sighed, exasperation outweighing her fear.

  The woman was human, but the man was definitely a vampire—he was too flawless and ageless to be anything else. She rubbed her eyes and saw that the clock next to her bed said quarter to seven in the morning.

  “Jarred and I were having such a great time, Lena, that we decided to bring the party home to you. This is Shannon.”

  The woman was pretty in a faded around the edges way, like someone who partied a little too much for her age.