by Tami Lund
He clamped his hands onto my shoulders. “I’d hug you, but you know, silver and all.” He nodded at the chains his own men had wrapped around my body.
“Take them off, then. Give me a proper hello.”
He chuckled and then surveyed the group standing before him. “I admit, I expected you to have put up a bigger fight. Figured far fewer of my lackeys would have returned.”
“Weak,” the guy next to me said, clearly missing the slight to his perceived abilities. “Couldn’t even walk out to the van after we wrapped him in the silver.”
Hollis’s gaze scanned me from head to toe. “Interesting.” He focused on something behind me. “And who is this? Why is there a human in our midst? And such a pretty one, too.”
He practically skipped past me, and I gritted my teeth. If only I weren’t wrapped in silver, I could rip the guy’s head from his shoulders once and for all. I should have sent him to his final death a long time ago, but I hadn’t, out of respect for my maker. Instead, I’d banished him from Chicago, and he’d set up shop in LA, where beautiful human women were plentiful and he was distracted enough to stay the hell out of my hair.
Why was he back?
“Hello, my sweet,” he said in that sickening accent that practically caused women to undress without any other instigation. “I am Hollis Macmillan. And what is your name?”
“Not interested.”
A laugh burst from my mouth before I could catch it, but it was drowned by the chuckles of several others in the group, so Hollis didn’t notice. His return smile was brittle, though. He didn’t take well to women who dissed him. History had taught me this could go one of two ways: either he’d try harder and determine he wanted her in his bed, or he’d decide she wasn’t worth the effort and simply kill her on the spot. I didn’t want Anya in his bed, but neither did I want her dead.
“And why is that?” he asked. “You don’t even know me. Yet.”
“Oh, I know enough already. You aren’t my type. Not by a long shot.”
“Why don’t you look me in the eye and say that?”
“Why don’t you try to win someone over without glamouring them?”
I couldn’t decide if I was impressed or worried over Anya’s confidence.
Instead of answering her, Hollis addressed the blond guy next to her. “Why is she here?”
“She’s his courtesan,” he said, and I cringed. How the hell had he come to that conclusion? Although, she had been in my house when we were attacked, so I supposed it wasn’t too far a stretch for him to make that connection. How ironic that it wasn’t true.
“Really?” Hollis drew out the word like he was a villain in a movie, which wasn’t far from the truth. Except his movies rarely had a happy ending.
“How long have you been his courtesan?” he asked, and when Anya didn’t answer, he touched her chin, lifting it and examining her neck. She smacked his hand and glared at him.
“I don’t see any puncture wounds,” he said. “Although as I recall, Cam rather did prefer to taste his women in ... other ways.”
I fucking hated this guy. No one had ever been able to bring out my rage quite like Hollis, and he knew it, enjoyed getting under my skin. Had reveled in the mistakes I made as a result of losing my cool. It had been a long road to earning the respect of the other vampires living in Chicago, and the journey hadn’t truly progressed until Hollis had gone to LA, four decades after I’d been turned.
“Let me assure you, sweetness,” he said, his gaze caressing Anya as readily as his hand. “Anything Cam can do, I can do better. Without question.”
“Forgive me if I say I have my doubts.”
I wanted to kiss her. She had no idea if her words were true, yet she said them as if we’d shared the most intimate of moments—and my vicariously watching her bring herself to orgasm most certainly did not count.
“I do so love a challenge,” Hollis murmured as if she’d been flirting with him. “Unfortunately, however, dawn is near. Brock, take my dear friend Cam to one of the chambers that locks from the outside. Everyone else, nighty night. We will reconvene at dusk. You”—he pointed at Anya—“come with me.” Without waiting for her assent, he grasped her arm and dragged her from the room, while I could do no more than watch helplessly, wrapped in silver and starved for sustenance.
Chapter 7
What a sleaze. Who the hell died and made this guy God? Okay, sure, he was cute—nope, hot. Seriously hot. But his personality—ugh. I’d met guys like him in my life—human guys—and it didn’t take much experience to realize they were bad news. And an immortal guy with that I-Am-God attitude was a hundred times worse than the cocky cowboys I’d dealt with back home.
It was daytime, or so I presumed. I had no visual proof since I was locked in a sealed chamber several stories underground, but considering Hollis was on his back, lying in a massive waterbed covered with red satin sheets, I felt safe in my assumption.
A waterbed? I didn’t even realize those still existed. And apparently vampires did not sleep in coffins. One myth debunked.
He’d invited me to join him, not surprisingly, and I’d not so politely declined. He hadn’t been offended, had shrugged his shoulders instead and stripped down to nothing—yes, absolutely nothing—and climbed into the bed. Then he’d watched me while he stroked himself, the steady rhythm creating gentle waves in the bed. If it had been Cam, I am certain I would have been turned on, would have probably climbed onto those shiny, smooth sheets, very likely would have given him a blow job as a result of how hot I would have been.
But Hollis? He was a creep, one of those guys who thought they were God’s gift to women when they were really just cocky bastards who wanted a piece of ass. I’d bet he rarely went down on a woman. It was all about his pleasure. Hers would be secondary—if even a consideration at all.
It hadn’t fazed him that I hadn’t reacted to his self-ministrations. I sat in a rather cushy armchair across from him and watched with detached interest while he’d stroked himself faster and faster until his body went taut and his back bowed, and he finally climaxed, shooting streamers of creamy cum into the air. They’d plopped onto the sheets, forming thick, white puddles, and he’d relaxed against the bed with a gusty sigh before closing his eyes and falling into apparently a pretty sated sleep.
He obviously had no fear I’d attack him while he slumbered. Unfortunately, that fear was justified. As I was human, I didn’t have the strength to best him, and I had no weapons or sunlight at my disposal. The chair upon which I sat was sturdy and contained no easily removable wooden pieces I could use as a stake. There were no crystal paperweights, nothing I could use to bash against his head. I wasn’t even sure that would kill him anyway, and I wasn’t keen on the idea of sending him into a rage and then being stuck with him in a locked room.
When I was certain he was in vampire la-la land, I checked out the door. Deadbolt lock, with a keyhole. Presumably there was a key somewhere in this room, but I spent what felt like hours searching and couldn’t find it. I did find a drawer full of sex toys, but none would work as a weapon against a vampire, unfortunately.
How long had he been here? This cozy, secure area hadn’t been built overnight, and I hardly saw Macy’s designing an underground chamber complete with bedrooms that contained waterbeds—a waterbed, really?—and dressers stocked with everything one might need for a night, or day, of debauchery.
Why was he here? Why did Cam clearly hate him so much? Okay, that much was obvious, but I was certain there was more to the story than just the fact that Hollis was a sleaze.
Or maybe not.
If I’d pushed Cam harder to feed from me, maybe things would be different right now. Even Hollis had seemed surprised he’d been so readily captured. My blood might have given him the strength to beat all those guys who had invaded his house.
Although to be fair, I did offer.
I should’ve tried harder. Pushed myself on him. Insisted. Damn it.
Wow, how
far I’ve come over the course of twenty-four hours.
And what a stupid thing to feel guilty about. How the hell was I supposed to know we’d be ambushed? And why hadn’t Cam fed in so long he was near starved? How was that my fault? I knew next to nothing about this situation. I’d only come to Chicago to find my sister, to make sure she was okay. I hadn’t meant to tumble head first into what reeked of a vampire turf war.
Question after question—with no answers—plagued me as I paced the silent underground space, until eventually, I wore myself out and curled into the chair to fall into an uneasy sleep.
I woke when I heard the sound of the latches on the door opening. Prying my eyes open, I saw that Hollis was still snoozing, still sprawled on his back in his bed, with nothing covering his nakedness. Curling more tightly into myself, I watched the door as it opened and a girl slipped inside, tiptoeing toward the bed as if she’d been there before. She didn’t even notice me sitting in the chair.
I had no idea how to tell if someone was human or vampire, unless I touched their clammy skin or observed their super-human strength. Or, I supposed, if I watched them drink someone’s blood. That would certainly be an obvious indicator.
Still, I suspected this woman was human. Was she a courtesan? She seemed awfully confident in what she was doing, and what she was doing was luring Hollis out of sleep by wrapping pink-painted lips around his dick. He rolled his head to the side and murmured something I couldn’t make out while threading his fingers in her hair, helping to guide her rhythm as her head bobbed over his groin and her hands clutched his hips. The entire situation was too perfectly choreographed, like he’d arranged for this to happen. Maybe it was his daily wakeup call. It must be evening. If he was awake enough to grow hard in her mouth, the sun had to be close to setting, if it wasn’t already.
I watched for a few moments, not because I was turned on but more like fascinated that something like this was happening right in front of me. I’d been far more sheltered than I could have ever imagined, living on a farm in the middle of Illinois.
Wait a second. The woman working over Hollis’s favorite muscle hadn’t locked the door behind her. And if they were as wrapped up in what they were doing as they appeared to be, maybe they wouldn’t notice me slipping from the room…
As quietly and unobtrusively as I could, I climbed out of the chair. My knees nearly buckled as the blood poured into my legs, sending painful tingles shooting through my veins. Gritting my teeth, I pushed through the pain and made my way to the door while the woman’s head continued to bob.
No one noticed me by the time I reached the door, which, just as I’d hoped, was closed but unlocked. With my gaze on the couple gently rocking on the bed, I carefully twisted the knob and pulled it open enough to slip through, praying there was no one keeping watch in the hall.
Luck was—finally—on my side. Cam had told me that the older a vampire, the more he was able to wake before dusk. Maybe Hollis was really old and most of his minions were not. Either that or he had way too much confidence that he was perfectly safe down here in his underground hideout beneath the Macy’s on the Magnificent Mile.
Standing in the middle of the hall, I turned my head this way and that, checking for enemy vamps, ready to rush down the hall to the elevator that would lead me above ground. Once there, I would need to find a place to hide for the next seven or eight hours, until the sun came up. Then I’d have plenty of time to get the hell out of Chicago and away from Hollis and whatever devious plans he had.
But what about Cam? He’d saved me; it was only fair I return the favor. And that was without the curious attraction I felt to him, the fact I was willing to allow him to drink my blood. Me. A vampire. It went against everything I’d ever been taught, yet when I was with him, it felt as natural as breathing.
Besides, we were bonded, so he’d be able to track me down, assuming he survived whatever Hollis had planned.
The bond!
I opened my hand and stared at my palm. The scar where he’d sliced me was a barely visible, thin, white line. I should be furious that he’d bonded us without my permission, but right now I saw it as a savior—his savior. If he hadn’t created this connection, I couldn’t be sure I would have been willing to spend the time and risk my own life to try to find him right now.
But with the bond, I might be able to find him and we could both escape whatever fate Hollis had in store for us. Closing my fist, I focused on him, his chiseled features, those soul-deep dark eyes, lips that almost couldn’t help but lift into a smile. Without thinking, I abruptly turned and headed down the hall in the opposite direction from where the elevators were located.
After a few twists and turns—and darting this way and that in order to avoid the occasional vampire stalking the halls—I felt the urge to stop in front of a door that was just like all the others down this aisle. They were all nondescript, save for the deadbolt locks—with the knob on this side of the door. Grabbing the brass- plated lever, I flipped it to the right and heard the telltale click of the lock releasing. Pushing open the door, I stepped inside, preparing for a possible attack, since Cam would have no idea it was me.
No attack came.
The room was dark, pitch black. I couldn’t see a damn thing. But I could sense him. He was directly in front of me, about twenty paces away. Hesitantly, I walked forward, stretching out my arms to try to avoid slamming into a wall or a piece of furniture.
My foot brushed something first, and I bent over to feel it. A footboard; a bed, I think. Moving my hand around, I felt something soft. A blanket, maybe. Using my hands as a guide, I made my way around the bed until I reached another piece of furniture, which I discovered was a bedside table, upon which I found a lamp. Flipping the switch, I blinked rapidly at the sudden burst of light, and when my eyes adjusted, I gasped.
Cam.
But not the Cam of my fantasies or the one I’d met only the day before. This was a hollowed shell of the man I knew, the one I had, admittedly, become slightly obsessed with. He was curled up in the fetal position on the bed, still wrapped in the silver chains, his face gaunt, his eyes closed. I had no idea how to determine if he was alive, since vampires didn’t breathe.
“Cam?”
His body jerked when I whispered his name. Yep, definitely alive—or whatever it was vampires were. I yanked the chain away, untwining it from his body and tossing it into a corner. He gasped as if he’d been underwater for far too long and rolled over onto his back, blinking, confusion in his eyes.
“Anya?”
“Hey there. You’re looking a little worse for wear.”
“I feel like the final death is imminent. What are you doing here? Am I hallucinating?”
“Not hallucinating. And I’d like to help ensure you don’t see that final death just yet.”
“How?”
“Uh... I sort of figured you’d take the lead on that. Don’t you need to feed from me?”
“Yes, but I want—I need your trust. I need to find your sister.”
“Quit focusing on my sister before you give me a complex. I want to do this. I promise. I swear. Can’t you tell through our blood bond?”
“It’s a bit difficult to focus. Between my near starvation and the way your nipples are pressing against that shirt, which happens to be mine, I’m rather distracted.”
“You’re also starting to sound more lucid. All right, we need to get a move on. I don’t know how long it will be before Hollis realizes I’m gone.”
“Hollis. Did he harm you? Did he force himself on you?”
“Nope. None of the above, although I was pretty damn uncomfortable, sleeping in an armchair all night. I mean, day. So, what do you want? My wrist? My neck? What?”
“I...”
“What’s your preferred method of sustenance?” If I sounded impatient, well, I was a tad worried we’d be discovered before he regained his strength and was able to aid me in my attempt to free us both.
“I, um, I pre
fer the inner thigh.”
“Oh.” I could feel the heat flooding my cheeks. And my lower belly. I had already figured out sex was an important aspect of a vampire’s feeding ritual, but I guess I hadn’t expected it to be quite so ... to my benefit.
I’d come this far, so with a mental shrug I pushed my jeans to my ankles and tugged them free of my feet.
“You’re stripping.”
“Well, you said you needed to feed from my inner thigh.”
“Need is probably not the correct word, although it is certainly my preference. Especially at the moment.”
“Okay, hang on.” It was awkward as hell, especially given we hadn’t even kissed, let alone done any other sort of hanky-panky, but desperate times and all.
I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself so that I knelt over him, his face right smack between my legs. I hadn’t showered since before I’d pleasured myself the day before, and it probably wasn’t quite as fresh down there as it ought to be.
And then I felt something stroking my thigh. His hand, I think. I grasped the headboard and closed my eyes, anticipating the sting of pain he’d said would occur before the pleasure started.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, still stroking my inner thigh. “Exactly as I’d imagined.”
“You imagined doing this to me?”
“Oh yes. When we were in that pub. On the ride to my house. While I watched you pleasure yourself. All day while I tried to sleep.”
My thighs shook, and not from the effort of holding myself up. “Wh-what did you imagine?”
He didn’t say anything. His fingers danced up my thigh until they touched my panties, undoubtedly wet from nothing more than anticipation. Trailing a finger along the material, I felt his touch and impatiently shifted my hips. I wanted that barrier gone.
Instead of removing it, he hooked his finger under the elastic and tugged it to the side, deliberately, I’m sure, scraping along the sensitive skin there. I gasped and wiggled. His other hand came up and cupped my ass, putting pressure there, causing me to lower myself until I was practically sitting on his face. When I felt the first wet lick of his tongue, I surged away, crying out as if he’d branded me.
