by Aubrey Ross
Uncertainty crept back into her expression as she whispered, “No.”
“It’s a sacred covenant that must be entered into willingly. If you accept my vow of protection, my strength, my energy and my life are yours. I will protect you or die trying. Regardless of your mother’s retaliation, I will be there to keep you safe.”
Her lips trembled and her lashes swept down to shadow her eyes. “And what is the cost of this ‘sacred covenant’? What must I offer in return?”
“Your body.” She blinked then their gazes locked, so he softened the stipulation with a lazy smile. “You must willingly submit to me or the covenant is not valid.”
“I will never be any man’s slave.” Defiance made her eyes appear more red than brown, but it was the natural color of her irises, not Vladya energy.
“You’re already my slave. I’m offering you an alternative.”
She scooted back then sat, drawing her legs up in front of her as she huddled against the headboard. He allowed the retreat, needing her to consciously make the decision to trust him. “I refuse and you take what you want from me, or I ‘willingly submit’ and…what? How does one differ from the other?”
“A sex slave is kept naked and in chains. The sole purpose for your existence would be to service my needs.” He sat and crossed his legs in front of him, which made his pants even tighter. Damn it. How was he supposed to think when all the blood in his body was trapped between his legs? “If I were your sworn protector, you would be the honored guest of Strigo strain. You would be treated with respect and indulgence, so long as you kept your end of the bargain.”
“Meaning as soon as I refuse you any pleasure, you’ll slap me back in chains?”
He raked his hair with his hand, growing impatient with her objections. “If I don’t form this bond you will die. A healer might not be around to infuse your levels next time.”
Her gaze sharpened and she tilted her head. “What healer? I thought you infused me before.”
“All I did was flash you to people who were able to help. If we’d stayed at the hunting lodge you would be dead.”
“Where are we now?” Her brow arched in silent challenge. “Upstate New York?”
“This place is called the gatehouse. That’s all a prisoner needs to know. My bound companion, on the other hand, would be free to move about and explore.”
“And you would be able to feed me without the assistance of others?”
He nodded. “The bond will allow me to pass energy directly to you.”
“And all it will cost me is my dignity, my pride?”
He should be insulted by her reticence. Any woman on Strigoia Prime would have been thrilled by his offer. He was a member of the royal family, nephew to the king. Eloise wasn’t even pureblood, she was an initiated human. But this wasn’t Strigoia Prime, and Eloise was in danger so long as her symbionts slumbered.
Still, he had pride too. He would not beg her to accept something she should consider an honor. “Your pride in exchange for your life? Sounds like a fair exchange to me.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees, eyes wide and luminous. “I have only your word on all of this. How do I know this bargain is necessary? You could be able to pass me energy at any time for all I know. Why should I trust you?”
“Because I saved your life—twice.”
“You took me from the Levari because you believe I have information you want and you’re keeping me alive for the same reason.”
He crawled off the bed, unable to remain close without touching her again. “That’s why Prince Alexi wants you alive. My interest is different, I assure you.”
She just stared at him, delicate features tense yet expressionless.
It would be so easy to grab her ankles and pull her legs away from her chest. He’d drag her ass to the edge of the bed and drape her legs over his arms then drive his aching cock deep into her sopping cunt. She was so aroused, so ready, he could still smell her musk, taste it on his tongue. But she saw him as her enemy.
He was her enemy. Why was he letting desire confuse the issue? This was not a courtship, it was an interrogation.
“Are you finished with me for now?” Her tone was brittle, eyes cold. “I’d like to take a shower.”
The inference that he’d made her feel dirty irritated him. He’d just crawled off the bed without fucking her, even though her body literally belonged to him now. Why was she provoking him? He snatched his shirt up off the floor and tossed it to her. “I’ll let you speak with the healer. She has no reason to lie.” Before she could argue with his decision he flashed from the room.
* * * * *
Rage pounded through Desmond, filling him with lethal purpose and ruthless determination. He had spent the past nine hours gorging on blood, saturating his symbionts with savage emotions and raw energy. This confrontation had been brewing since he set foot on Earth.
He’d fled Strigoia Prime with the hope of freedom and a life free of prejudice and conflict. Instead the Levari Brethren had taken control of his body and forced him to lead a mutiny. Their rash actions had cost the lives of innocent hosts and the destruction of a priceless spaceship. Desmond had barely survived the crash. It had left him weak and depleted, unable to resist their manipulation. But no more. Caresse, his brave, selfless mate, had showed him the way to vanquish their enemies. He would bow to their will no longer.
Not long after he left the cabin he’d realized he could mask the tracker’s signal as long as he remained incorporeal. However, the instant he took form the signal flared beyond his control, so he would only have one chance to take his enemies unaware.
Focused entirely on his purpose, he forced his way back into the cabin through a minuscule crack in the wall. The cabin reeked of sex and blood. One guard stood by the door, eyes blurry, lids drooping as he swayed back and forth, barely remaining on his feet. The other sprawled in a chair wearing only his half-fastened pants. Farren lay naked on the bed, arm draped over his eyes. All three men were dead. They just didn’t know it yet.
Caresse was curled up on her side, her dark hair tangled about her face and shoulders. She’d drawn her knees up toward her chest as if to make herself as small a target as possible. He could not stop to soothe her, could not allow tender emotions to cool the blinding anger burning inside him. The time for comfort would come, but first there must be a reckoning.
Meticulously shielding the connection, Desmond sank into Caresse’s mind. Her eye flew open and she started to say his name but he silenced her with a thought. We don’t have much time, my love. Open to me. Show me everything they did to you. Hold nothing back.
She shook her head and the torment in her blue gaze was nearly his undoing. How could he cause her more pain after all she’d endured already?
Your strategy was sound. It only failed because I was drugged. It was as much a reminder to him as an encouragement to her. We must awaken my Strigo symbionts. It’s our only hope.
Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes but her mental shields slowly lowered, allowing him access to her memories. He siphoned off every emotion, every sensation, using her sacrifice to fuel his fury. These bastards had tormented her with pleasure, eroded her defenses until she surrendered to the natural carnality of her own nature. He watched every act, felt every penetration and channeled the hatred directly to his symbionts.
Strength swelled within him, hate so possessive and raw it momentarily robbed him of breath. He saw her face, heard her inward screams as they forced responses from her trembling body. Her shame intensified the heat until he felt his blood sizzle. His body gradually solidified as he focused on his wrist. With painstaking control, he forced the locator band to materialize while his arm remained incorporeal. The band slipped free and dropped to the floor, freeing him for action.
He flew across the room and tore out the first guard’s throat without giving him the opportunity to scream. Blood gushed from the gaping wound and the guard’s eyes rolled back in his head a
s his body crumpled to the floor at Desmond’s feet.
Desmond didn’t pause. He turned and launched himself at the second guard, who was standing by the time Desmond reached him. The guard swung wildly but Desmond extended his claws and thrust his hand in under the guard’s ribs. With one forceful clench, he crushed the guard’s heart then casually withdrew his hand. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Ruthless, focused—two down, one to go.
Turning toward the bed, he prepared to obliterate the final obstacle, but Caresse had emerged from her stupor. She straddled Farren’s body, both her hands grasping his throat. Her fingernails were extended, ten miniature daggers buried deep in his flesh. Rage contorted her delicate features, making her appear demonic. Farren whimpered, eyes round with fear and disbelief. He grasped her forearms but had apparently realized she could sever his head with one twist of her slender wrists.
“Don’t kill him,” Desmond insisted. “Not yet.”
“Why?” She didn’t shift her focus but her hands remained still.
“We need to know everything they know if we hope to stay ahead of them.”
Without releasing Farren’s throat, she looked at Desmond. Green light gleamed off her pale face, but it took Desmond a moment to realize the color was a reflection of his burning gaze. Strigo fire. He’d done it. No, they had done it. This was Caresse’s idea. Her sacrifice had made it possible for him to accomplish this goal. His Strigo symbionts had broken free from their chemical stasis. They’d devoured many of his Levari symbionts in their ravenous bid for freedom, but he’d never felt stronger, more alive. Power pulsed, exhilarating yet not intoxicating as Levari energy could be. His thinking had never been so concise or his confidence so absolute.
He approached the bed with lethal intent. After all the indignities Farren had forced upon Caresse, it was only right that he suffer greatly before he was allowed to die.
Caresse didn’t move so Desmond joined her on the bed, kneeling at Farren’s side. Desmond commanded his Strigo symbionts to protect him, to isolate him from the Levari Brethren. The cabin was shielded, so he didn’t think Farren was in contact with the others, but he wouldn’t know for sure until he touched Farren’s mind.
Power cascaded through Desmond, the sensation new and a bit overwhelming. He accepted the tingling rush, the excess energy making him jittery. Caresse withdrew her claws and jerked Farren’s head to the side, positioning his throat for her mate.
With savage pleasure, Desmond bit into Farren’s neck and drank deeply of his energy-infused blood. Desmond’s Levari symbionts vibrated, excited by the fresh wave of Levari energy. But his Strigo symbionts sent a forceful pulse through his body, driving the Levari back, forcing them into submission.
With his fangs still buried in Farren’s throat, Desmond flowed into Farren’s mind. As Desmond had thought, the shields that concealed their location from the other strains also made it impossible to network with the Levari. Farren was on his own.
Desmond absorbed images and information, drinking in every detail as if it were warm, rich blood. Scenes sped through his mind like high-speed video files. Random, scattered, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the information. He didn’t attempt to make sense out of what he saw. He drew it inward and locked each segment in place. He’d sort through the fragments later, unravel the mysteries.
Desmond felt Farren weakening, his energy all but drained. Death was too easy for this animal. Farren must suffer before his useless existence was snuffed out. Desmond stilled, concentrating as he never had before. Separating his emotions from the task, Desmond forced his mind back to the scene shortly before he’d returned to the cabin. He pictured Farren on top of Caresse, groaning as release shuddered through him. Desmond carefully formed a new ending for the scene, communicating it to his Strigo symbionts, instructing them to imprint it upon Farren’s mind.
Caresse watched him closely as he withdrew his fangs and licked Farren’s blood from his lips. “He’s still breathing.” She stood beside the bed, anger restoring color to her cheeks. “Why did you let him live?”
“We need a distraction and he’ll provide us with one. He just betrayed the Levari Brethren.”
She glanced around the blood-splattered room and shook her head. “They won’t see this as a betrayal. They all underestimated you. Farren was one of many.”
“The cabin is sealed. The Brethren won’t know what took place here until they reestablish communication with Farren and he will remember what my symbionts just imprinted on his mind.”
“Which is?” She crossed her arms over her chest, staring past him.
Desmond crawled off the bed and went to her, but she turned away as he tried to draw her into his arms. “He will believe he was so enamored with you that he allowed you to savage the guards.” Unable to leave her alone in her misery, he lightly stroked her hair. “He didn’t anticipate the strength their blood would give you and you overpowered him then escaped. He will believe he failed, that he not only lost control of his prisoner, but you stripped important information from his mind before you departed. The Brethren will interrogate him, torture him and probe his memory to see which secrets you now possess. He will die believing you bested him.”
“I did best him.” She looked back, her smile unsteady. “It just took a bit longer than I expected.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her temple. “You are, and have always been, amazing. I could not have chosen a better mate.”
She finally turned and wrapped her arms around him, accepting his embrace. “Where will we go now? Were you able to strip ‘important information’ from his mind?”
“I think so, but I need time to analyze what I gleaned. We’ll find a place away from the drama for a night or two and then we’ll plan a new strategy.”
“Sounds perfect.” She eased back and looked into his eyes. Her features were smooth, composed, but her gaze remained turbulent. “I’ve had enough drama since we arrived on this planet to last a lifetime.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “One last thing before we go. I want the Levari serum.” Ignoring the congealing blood coating the floorboards and splattered on the walls, he searched the guards’ discarded clothes. A small, hard-shell case was tucked into the inside pocket of a blood-dotted jacket. He opened the case and smiled. It still contained four doses of the paralytic and three of the antidote.
Caresse shuddered. “You should destroy it.”
“Perhaps later. Right now we are still too vulnerable. This will help balance the power until I am strong enough to take control.” He snapped the case closed, slipped it into his pocket and then held out his hand toward Caresse.
Chapter Six
A firm knock drew Eloise’s gaze toward the main door to the rustic apartment. Bronik would have flashed into the room, so this must be the mysterious healer. She glanced down at her bare legs. Bronik’s shirt only came to mid-thigh but at least she was covered and out of restraints.
“Come in,” she called, feeling foolish. The door didn’t have a conventional lock. If her guest couldn’t open it, Eloise had no idea how to admit him or her.
The door swung inward and Simone stepped into the living room, a large canvas bag hooked over one shoulder. Eloise had presumed the healer was a Strigo host. She’d never expected to find a member of Vladya strain…wherever this was.
“Simone.” She rushed forward and hugged the healer, thrilled to see a familiar face.
Simone returned the hug with obvious reluctance, stepping back as soon as Eloise opened her arms. “Are you feeling better?” The bag slipped off her shoulder so she lowered it to the floor near the door.
The willowy blonde looked decidedly uncomfortable, which sent questions racing through Eloise’s mind. Was Simone a prisoner too or had she been some sort of spy? No, that was ridiculous. Simone had been a faithful member of Vladya strain for at least ninety years.
Hoping to put the healer at ease before pointing out the suspiciousness of her presen
ce in a Strigo stronghold, Eloise simply answered the question. “I feel much better, and I understand you played a part in my recovery.”
“You’re not recovered. What we did was temporary at best.” Simone was dressed in baggy jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, very different from the flowing skirts and crocheted tops she’d favored in Vancouver. Simone fiddled with the cuff of one sleeve as she explained, “We managed to transfer enough energy to stabilize your system, but you’re still in danger. Do you have any idea what the Levari used to paralyze your symbionts?”
To hell with subtlety. Her energy crisis could wait. She wanted information and she wanted it now. “Where are we and what the hell are you doing with Strigo strain?”
Pain and anger smoldered in the healer’s bright-blue eyes then she glanced away. “You were there that night. You saw what they did to me.”
She’d walked in on her brother having fun at Simone’s expense. Garrett had sat back like a pagan king directing a private sex show, featuring Simone and a male feeder. Garrett could be a regular bastard when it came to women. He was a full-blooded host and felt that anyone who wasn’t had been created for his amusement.
Still, one night of hedonistic sex didn’t excuse defection. “You betrayed your strain because of Garrett?”
Simone raised her chin and squared her shoulders. “I hold allegiance to no strain.” Bitterness made her tone sharp. “If I could get rid of the symbionts infesting my blood I would. I didn’t ask for this ‘honor’ and I don’t want it.”
“When and how did Strigo strain become your savior? How many Strigo cocks did you suck before they agreed to help you?”
The healer looked truly disgusted by the accusation. “I helped them escape your mother’s compound and they took me with them when they fled. It’s as simple as that. Unlike your family, these men have demanded nothing from me.”
Arguing with her was obviously a waste of time. If Strigo strain hadn’t explained their price up front, they would reveal the cost when it benefitted them most. No strain helped another out of the goodness of their hearts. There was always a price. This “sworn protector” nonsense was the perfect example. Bronik would protect her from the inevitable aggression of her own strain, but only if she submitted her body unconditionally to his every whim.
