Enslaved By the Others

by Jess Haines

  ENSLAVED

  “You do like walking the hard road, don’t you?”

  Before I could retort, he had me twisted around so my back was cradled against his chest, and he had my wrists pinned at my stomach with one hand. The other was at my throat, his thumb digging under my jaw to force me to tilt my head to the side and expose my jugular. His fangs scraped over my skin and a scream was dragged out of me as I struggled vainly against his hold.

  “Ah, yes, I remember now. This is what you fear, is it not?”

  My only answer was to increase my helpless squirming, a thin sound of panic and terror dying in my throat.

  “Well, then, pet, since you’re not much impressed by pain, perhaps this will deter you.” His cool lips trailed upward, rubbing against my skin like melting ice until they brushed against my earlobe to whisper his threat. “Every time you disobey me, I will bite you. Make no mistake, the last time I did was in haste. From now on I will make every effort to make it last. Each . . . and every . . . time.”

  As those last words trailed off, he struck, his fangs piercing my skin so quickly and cleanly that all I felt was pressure, not pain. Then, whatever the hell it is in vampire saliva that makes it feel good kicked in—and this time I was writhing against his hold for a totally different, far more shameful reason....

  Books by Jess Haines

  HUNTED BY THE OTHERS

  TAKEN BY THE OTHERS

  DECEIVED BY THE OTHERS

  STALKING THE OTHERS

  FORSAKEN BY THE OTHERS

  ENSLAVED BY THE OTHERS

  Collections

  NOCTURNAL

  (with Jacquelyn Frank,

  Kate Douglas, and Clare Willis)

  THE REAL WEREWIVES OF VAMPIRE COUNTY

  (with Alexandra Ivy, Angie Fox, and Tami Dane)

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  ENSLAVED BY THE

  JESS HAINES

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  ENSLAVED

  Also by

  Title Page

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgments

  As always, I must thank my beta readers for their tireless efforts to set me straight.

  Kristin, thank you for helping me finish this puppy on time and with minimal psychological damage. You are my favorite architect.

  Tori B., you make me laugh and gave me encouragement I didn’t know I needed.

  Tori N., you’re bloody brilliant. Thank you for helping make this a better book in ways you may never know.

  J.C., you are the best cheerleader, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

  Brooklyn Ann, you helped me figure out how to fit in a touch of romance in the darkest of moments. How the hell did you manage that?

  Kate, I’m sorry that I’m not sorry, but the socks had to stay.

  To those who had a hand in the research that went into this book, whether they knew it or not, thank you. A special word of thanks to Captain Awkward and the rest of the Awkward Army for introducing this lurker to terms like “pantsfeelings” and concepts that gave more depth to parts of this story than I thought I was capable of capturing in words. To the people of YouTube, Twitter, and the blog-o-sphere I follow, there are too many of you to list, but I love you fiercely for the education and entertainment you provide. A huge thank you to MacAllister Stone and the gang at the Absolute Write Water Cooler for providing invaluable resources and the kind of camaraderie one could only expect from other writers who have been there and done that.

  I want to acknowledge the Polaris Project (www.polarisproject.org) for the education they provided on the current state of human trafficking in the United States and abroad. Their website was an invaluable resource for me when doing research for this book. I hope you’ll consider showing your support of the Polaris Project, and other organizations like it, to help put an end to human trafficking.

  Thank you to my agent, Ellen Pepus, and to the team at Kensington who have worked so hard to make these stories shine and get them into the hands of readers. John, Peter, Vida, Ross, Alex, Justine, and everyone else who had a hand in getting the H&W Investigations off the ground, you guys are the best.

  Last but certainly not least, thank you to all you fans out there.

  You all rock my socks. Thank you for all you do.

  He who fights with monsters should look to it

  that he himself does not become a monster.

  And when you gaze long into an abyss,

  the abyss also gazes into you.

  —FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE

  Chapter One

  My mind was a fragmented haze, but I found the glue necessary to pull it back together as soon as a voice I hadn’t heard in years—except in my nightmares—rang out.

  “I know you’re awake. Open your eyes.”

  Panic drove me to move before I was fully conscious of the decision to do so. Hurling myself off the floor and in the opposite direction of his voice, I hadn’t made it two steps before cold, strong fingers wrapped around my wrist, jerking me back and into his arms. Cloth brushed against skin that hadn’t been bare before I lost consciousness, heightening my terror. I quickly closed my eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze. Despite knowing it was useless to fight, I squirmed as much as I could against that iron grip.

  “Calm yourself,” he said, not unkindly. I made a small, helpless sound, squeezed out of me when his hold tightened. “I only wish to speak with you. I don’t mean you harm.”

  “Liar,” I wheezed, redoubling my efforts to escape. “Let go! Murderer!”

  “It’s cute when you say it.”

  I made a sound, half laugh, half sob. Oh, yeah, that was funny all right. Memories of a room full of dead kids on a dance floor, of slick gore gleaming under a strobe, of dead eyes and a woman in a blue shirt being drained of every drop of blood, assaulted me.

  Hilarious.

  His grip tightened, choking off my panicked, nonsense noises. Once I quieted down, the vampire held me to him with one arm. His free hand grasped my chin and forced my head up and to one side, then the other. Inspecting. No doubt spotting the telling scars on my neck, tiny and faded as they were.

  “Your fear of me is understandable but unnecessary. I need answers, Shiarra. That’s all.”

  I didn’t open my eyes, but I stopped struggling. My heart was still racing, and panic was still urging me to fight like a wildcat. It was the wash of helplessness that led me to weaken, stilling in hopes of finding some later oppo
rtunity to escape.

  Captive. Kidnapped by a murderous monster who had every reason to want me dead. Oh, God. If I didn’t figure out a way to get out of here, now, I was going to die. There was no maybe about it—this time there was no one around to stop him, and even with the Other-taint in my blood, I had no hope of overpowering or outrunning him. He had proximity. Eye contact might strengthen his hold on me, but when we were this close to each other he could exert some control over my will and body and there would be nothing I could do to stop it.

  “You know very well what I can do to you. I’m too pressed for time to wring answers out of you right now. If I release you, will you sit and speak reasonably with me?”

  When he put it that way, it was hard to think of him as a bad guy. He sounded accommodating, almost sensible.

  Except he was the furthest thing from rational. Max Carlyle was crazy; a mass-murdering sociopath. Not only had he abducted me—was this the third time, now?—but this time he’d learned from his prior mistakes and taken away everything familiar, right down to my clothes. I had no idea if Sara or Devon were dead or alive. No clue if Royce knew what had happened to us or if any of my friends knew where to find me. Dragging things out might be the only way to get through this intact. If I gave Max what he needed, he might kill me. If I didn’t, he might bind me to him by blood again and then kill me. At least cooperating—to some extent—meant keeping my sanity.

  My voice came out in a dry croak. “After—will ... are you going to let me go after I answer you?”

  He laughed, the sound a soft rumble in his chest that vibrated through my bones. “You should know better by now. I will go easier on you than originally intended. Fair enough?”

  I couldn’t answer—I was too busy shaking from the icy chill in the air and terror at the images those words conjured.

  He loosened his grip on me, but only to slide his arm around my waist as he urged me to walk. Though I hadn’t the faintest clue where he was taking me, I still didn’t dare open my eyes in case I might inadvertently look into his own and be spelled into a mind-warping black enchant. Redundant, perhaps, since I’d forever be obligated to answer his call when in close proximity—like now—but I couldn’t stand the idea of losing what scraps of free will I had left.

  We stopped, his hands shifting, guiding my shaking frame like one might a broken marionette. He helped me into the seat, and I sensed him crouch down before me. A cold void where something warm and living should have been. I gripped the chair arms, my nails cutting into the fabric and a faint cry escaping me at the chill of his hand placed so familiarly upon my bare knee.

  “Now, then. Do tell me how you came to be among Clyde Seabreeze’s retinue. I was under the impression that you sought sanctuary with Alec.”

  My voice shook, teeth chattering as I forced out a few words. “Vacation,” I lied. With Max it was a reflex to keep anyone connected to me safe from his wrath. “Just a vacation. He heard I was coming.”

  “A vacation.” His tone was incredulous. “Alec allowed this?”

  “Not his choice,” I said, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. “I don’t belong to him.”

  “No. Not anymore.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “Did Alec give you a taste of his blood?”

  “Yes.” The words were bitter on my tongue, made more so by the copper taste of fear.

  “More than once?”

  “No.”

  “Excellent,” he said, and my skin broke out in fresh goose bumps from the slight stirring of air as he rose. “Lucky you, little love. You get to live to see another day.”

  I couldn’t help myself; some of the tension that had drawn me so tight eased.

  “You’re doing very well. Just a few more questions, pet.”

  “I’m not your pet.”

  He chuckled. “Quite the contrary. You haven’t been permanently bound by Alec, so I just may keep you for myself. It might take a bit longer to break you in since you’ve gone through withdrawal, but I can assure you we’ve got nothing but time.”

  I couldn’t help it. I surged to my feet, hoping against hope that I could outrun him, needing more than anything in that moment to escape.

  His fingers scraped over my back, his laughter echoing through the room as I made a hectic, panicked dash forward. I finally opened my eyes, daring the risk to search for some way, any way, to get out of there.

  There was a single door, which I made a beeline for. The handle wouldn’t turn no matter how hard I twisted it, and my cry of frustration warbled into a scream of fear as his hand settled on my shoulder, shoving me around until my back was pressed against the door. Stunned, I stared up into his patrician features, forgetting momentarily to close my eyes as I met his pale gray gaze.

  He looked exactly the same as he had the last time I had seen him. His dark brown hair was cut short, but not so much that I couldn’t see the curls threatening to escape their gelled prison. Dusky skin was too dark for him to be taken as a vampire by a casual glance—not unless you already knew what he was. His tailored business suit didn’t hide the solid, muscular build of his frame, or the shadow of a rabid, murderous predator lurking behind the mask of civility.

  There was no pull of his mind overtaking mine. All he did was smirk and lift a hand to dangle a set of keys between us—unmistakably mocking me.

  “Not yet, pet. I’m not done with you.”

  Gone were any thoughts of cooperating. Mindless terror drove me to shove and kick and scratch at him, screaming as I fought to get him off of me. He pulled me away from the door, only to let me go again—and I am not ashamed to admit that I ran like my ass was on fire, putting as much distance between us as possible. I didn’t stop until I hit the far corner of the room, shivering as I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he stood there, contemplating me. I wasn’t entirely naked, but I felt stripped bare.

  He flicked through the keys, found the one he was looking for, and unlocked the door. Hand resting on the knob, he looked back over his shoulder.

  “I’ll give you some time to calm down. Come to terms with the fact that you’re mine now.”

  I shook my head, denying it, arms wrapped around my stomach to keep the bile in. His voice softened, became almost kindly, making his next words even harder to bear.

  “No knight in shining armor is going to save you. There is no escape from this place, or from me, unless I release you. The more cooperative you are, the better you will be treated. If you continue to fight me, I’ll either bind you to me or gift you to one of my number like ... what was the name of my progeny you destroyed?”

  He honestly didn’t seem to recall Peter’s name. The first vampire who had bitten me. The first vampire I had killed with my own two hands. I was too frightened to raise my voice to tell him. It didn’t take him long to shrug it off as inconsequential and continue.

  “No matter. I’m sure you remember what that was like. There are others like him who would be pleased to have the opportunity to break you. Choose wisely.”

  With that, he walked out, the door latching shut behind him.

  Chapter Two

  I scoured the room for tools to use for escape. Max must have learned his lesson from the last time he’d thought he had me under his thumb. My purse, like my clothes—save for a bra, panties, and socks—was gone.

  Fucking hell, my anti-Other mind mojo charm was gone, too.

  Like the last place he’d imprisoned me, the damp, musty smell to the air told me I was underground. The room was small; four plain, white walls, with no openings other than the door that had locked behind him. Maybe six long paces from one end to the other, leaving little room to move around. Cold. Not freezing. Not so terrible that I couldn’t stand it, but I was grateful for my socks. Even still, I rubbed my hands over my arms and legs periodically to warm them up. As for furniture, aside from a neatly made bed, the chair, and a chamber pot in the corner (ugh), there was nothing. No closet, no bathroom,
no clothes—just the barest of essentials.

  Thoughts of confinement and torture à la Christian Bale’s plight in Rescue Dawn danced in my head as I examined the furniture for small nails or staples. The thought of being stuck in this room for whatever remained of my life made me sick. There had to be a way out. I didn’t have any bobby pins in my hair and the contents of my purse weren’t available, so my options for picking the lock were limited.

  It took quite awhile, but I managed to pry off a couple of staples holding the fabric to the bottom of the chair. They were big staples, but the metal was thin enough to serve for a makeshift lock pick. I tore off most of my nails in my frantic efforts to dislodge the metal bits from the wooden frame.

  I took a moment to feel gratitude toward my brothers for teaching me something useful when we were hell-raising kids—and that I had thought to keep those skills honed in case of emergencies like this.

  Bending the metal into shape earned me a couple nicks that were made worse by the way my hands were shaking. I had to hold my wrist steady with the other hand while I worked on the first part of the lock, which left me unable to do much about the few drops of blood trickling from my torn fingernails or to wipe away the panic-induced sweat dripping into my eyes.

  What normally would’ve taken me thirty seconds to accomplish stretched out into ten or fifteen minutes. It didn’t help that the first staple broke and the second disappeared, flying away to land somewhere on the carpet.

  When the lock finally turned over, I closed my eyes and said a brief prayer of thanks under my breath, along with a request to anyone listening that luck would stay with me long enough to see me safely out of this hell. Then I stuck my stinging, bleeding fingers in my mouth, because ow.