“Damn you, Azrael. She’s innocent in all this. Leave her alone, and I will walk out of here with you right now. We will take care of Sanders together. We don’t need her.”
Damien’s words were a knife to Tori’s gut. Not only had she just given her body to him, but she’d confessed her growing love for him also. Yet here he stood, discussing her as if she meant nothing to him—a means to an end. And apparently one of the Sanders happened to be that end.
Tears of betrayal stung her eyes as she stared at the back of Damien’s nude form “How could you?”
He stiffened and slowly turned to face her. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
The tears she tried so hard to hold back spilled over to track down her cheeks. “I trusted you.”
“Tori…”
A hiss burst from his lips as his arms were jerked behind his back and cuffs were slapped onto his wrists.
Azrael moved in close and tapped Damien on the face with an open palm. “Remember, you brought this on yourself.”
He nodded to the one of the goons holding Damien’s arms. “Do it.”
The guy retrieved a syringe from his shirt pocket and quickly stabbed the side of Damien’s neck with it.
A scream died in Tori’s throat as Damien’s eyes went vacant and he dropped unconscious to the floor.
“Take him out the back,” Azrael commanded, waving his gun toward the door. “And try not to get noticed. I do not relish slaughtering the entire town over a needless mistake.”
This couldn’t be happening, Tori’s mind screamed, watching them lift Damien’s body and disappear through the open doorway. But it was happening, and if she didn’t do something quick, she would no doubt be next.
“What do you want from me?” She wanted to call out for help, but the gun trained in her direction squelched that idea.
“My name is Azrael Devain. And that ungrateful cad you were frolicking with is my nephew. He was sent here to do a job and obviously got caught up in the likes of you.”
Tori’s stomach lurched. She had opened herself up to Damien, fallen in love with him, and he’d been using her the entire time.
Nausea rolled through her. “You can let me go. I won’t say anything to anyone. I don’t even know what it is you’re here to do.”
He came around and sat on the side of the bed. Tori cringed as he reached up and brushed her hair back from her face. “I can’t do that, young lady. I came here to take care of the Sanders family, and you are going to help me achieve that.”
A vision of Jaxon and Claire holding baby Grayson floated through Tori’s mind, and panic took over. “Please don’t hurt them. They’re good people. They—”
“Shhhhh.” He placed a finger against her lips. “Sleep.”
Her world turned black.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Damien came awake with the setting of the sun. His mind felt groggy, and his body was too sluggish to move.
He glanced around the room, taking in everything from the boarded-up windows to the silver bars on all sides of him.
Memory came flooding back with a vengeance. Tori…
Getting to his knees, Damien crawled toward the bars, only to realize they were silver, which explained his sluggish state.
The healing burns on his wrists still stung from the silver handcuffs they’d used on him the night before. At least he hoped it hadn’t been more than twenty-four hours.
Damien’s heart cracked with the memory of Tori’s face when she’d realized that he had used her. But he hadn’t used her, he told himself as he staggered to his feet. He loved her and had since the moment he’d laid eyes on her in that paper all those months ago.
I have to get out of here. He gripped the bars in both hands, hissing as the silver burned through his flesh without apology. He pulled with everything he had, but the bars held firm.
“Azrael!” he shouted, opening his senses in search of a nearby presence. If his uncle had harmed one hair on Tori’s head… Damien couldn’t finish the thought.
A sound came from the front of the house, and Damien stilled, listening for signs of his uncle’s return. The noise came again, closer this time. Meow.
“Son of a bitch, it’s just a damn cat,” he snarled, slamming a fist into his prison bars. He welcomed the feel of the silver burning into his skin. It was no more than he deserved for involving Victoria in his family’s feud with the Sanders family.
“Son of a bitch, it’s just a damn vampire,” Kyle mimicked, stepping into the room.
Damien laughed. A rusty sound full of relief. “Ah, Psycho. I’ve never been so glad to see a flea-riddled feline in all my life.”
“And a long life it’s been, I’m sure. Speaking of fleas, aren’t they closely related to your kind? I mean, being fellow bloodsuckers and all that.”
“Can we forego the pleasantries and get me out of here? I need to find Victoria.”
Kyle glanced around the room. “Where would they keep the keys to your cell?”
Damien studied the familiar’s face. “I have no idea. Aren’t you going to ask me about Victoria?”
“I already know who has her. Only, I don’t know where he took her. I’ll need you for that.”
A frown marred Damien’s brow. “How do you know who took her?”
“Did you notice the medallion she wore around her neck?”
Damien nodded. “Apparently it broke somehow, and she had it in her pocket with the intention of having it repaired in town.”
“Yes, well, Harvey ripped it from her neck earlier last night before you arrived.”
Rage slammed into Damien at the mention of Harvey putting his hands on his Tori. “What does the necklace have to do with your knowledge of her being taken?”
“The medallion was given to Victoria by the Murphy sisters. The same witches who sent me many years ago to watch over her. The three sisters cast a protection spell over the medallion to keep Victoria safe. As long as she had the necklace with her, I knew her every move.”
“Then you should know where she is now.”
Kyle shook his head. “The medallion was left in the pocket of her jeans in your hotel room.”
Damien’s fangs descended and his eyes burned with fury. Azrael had taken his sweet Victoria without her clothes. Damien may as well have handed her over to Harvey; it would be no different in her eyes. “Get me out of here.”
“I will look for the keys and see if there are clothes in this place that we can wear. We can’t very well tear the town apart in the nude.”
Damien looked down at his own naked form with unseeing eyes. He had brought Victoria back to his hotel room, made love to her beautiful body, and inadvertently led his uncle straight to her. He should have been more careful. Damien knew Azrael better than anyone. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Tori before he could find her.
Kyle disappeared through a door across the room, in search of the keys to Damien’s cell and hopefully a pair of pants. Damien had seen more than enough of the familiar’s ass to last a lifetime.
Pacing his cell, Damien relived the look in Victoria’s eyes over and over. The hurt, anger, and disbelief coming from her had staggered him. He’d give everything he owned to remove her pain, her distrust of him.
“I found some clothes, but no keys,” Kyle announced, entering the room wearing a pair of shorts and a white T-shirt. He shoved a pair of jeans through the bars, along with a black tank top. “Put those on while I get something to pick this lock with.”
Damien accepted the garments, quickly donning them as Kyle rummaged through a draw in the nearby kitchen.
“This should do it,” the familiar murmured, returning with an icepick in hand. He inserted it into the lock and went to work.
Less than a minute later, Damien stumbled out of his prison, clapping Kyle on the shoulder as he went. “I owe you.”
“I’ll remember that. Come on, let’s go find Victoria
before we lose the cover of night.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I’m a familiar. I know everything.”
“Bullshit,” Damien barked.
“The Murphy sisters told me,” Kyle admitted with a shrug. “It’s a simple as that.”
Damien made a mental note to thank the witches as he followed Kyle through the house, out the door, and into the woods.
The familiar came to an abrupt stop and turned to face Damien. “I can run like the wind in feline form, but nowhere near the speed of a vampire. If—”
“I get it,” Damien interrupted, understanding he would need to carry Psycho the cat. “Make it quick. We’re wasting time. And where are we going?”
“To Jaxon Sanders’ place. It’s about five miles west of here.” With a shimmer of light, Kyle disappeared, and in his place stood the black feline known as Psycho.
Damien quickly scooped the cat up into his arms. He hated like hell to go to Alfred’s son for help, but this was about Tori and her safety. “Do not scratch me, cat, or I’ll sling you up against a tree. Hard.”
With a hiss, Psycho bared his teeth and settled into Damien’s arms.
Damien ran with the speed born of a vampire, pushing himself harder with every mile, not slowing until he reached the tree line on the outskirts of Jaxon’s property.
Psycho jumped from Damien’s arms, shifting to human form seconds after his feet touched the ground. He straightened and brushed off his hands. “You are going to have to go in alone.” He waved a hand down his once-again nude body. “If Jaxon doesn’t stake you right away, toss a robe or something out on the porch, and I’ll join you.”
“You are going to have to start stashing clothes everywhere you go, Psycho. This is getting a tad ridiculous.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Coming from a fang-sporting corpse who’s afraid of a little sun, I find that a tad hypocritical.”
Damien might have found the familiar humorous under different circumstances. Not today. “Stay behind those trees and wait for my signal.”
With a nod, Kyle vanished into the underbrush.
The hair on Damien’s arms stood on end, the feeling of being watched growing stronger by the second.
He scanned the area for signs of life, but found nothing save for Jaxon’s two wolves and a couple of mice scurrying about.
It had to be Ben watching him, Damien thought, holding both arms out to his sides. “Show yourself, familiar.”
“I wondered how long it would take for you to sense me.”
Damien spun around and came face to face with Ben. “You must have been one of the rats scurrying about. And of course, you’re nude also.”
The giant familiar grinned. “Ah, but unlike your kitten hiding in the woods, I happen to have some clothes out here.”
“And I would be eternally grateful if you would put them on. If I never see another penis in my lifetime, it will be far too soon.”
“Jealous, vampire?”
Damien raised a brow. “Hardly. But I didn’t come here to compare sizes. I came to ask for help.”
Ben walked over to a tree and snagged his clothes from beneath it. He began dragging on his jeans. “Help with what?”
“Victoria is in trouble.”
The big familiar was instantly alert. He began pulling on his shirt and shoes with jerky movements. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tori came awake slowly, her head throbbing in time with her heartbeat. She cracked her eyelids open and glanced around an unfamiliar room.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Damien’s uncle murmured, appearing in her line of sight.
She pushed herself up into a sitting position as realization dawned. She’d been taken from Damien’s hotel room the night before and brought…where? she wondered, backing up against the headboard.
A moan resonated through the room, and she gasped as Alfred Sanders’ bloody form came into view.
“Oh, my God! Alfred, are you okay?” Tori jumped from the bed, dropping to her knees in front of the chair he occupied.
No straps or chains held him down as his head lolled from side to side. He’d obviously taken one hell of a beating if his face was any indication.
Tori stood on shaky legs, relieved that her captor had dressed her in Damien’s robe before abducting her.
She turned to face Azrael Devain. “Why are we here?” She threw a hand out, indicating Alfred as well.
Azrael took a seat in a nearby chair and crossed his legs at the knee. “That piece of waste over there is responsible for the death of someone very dear to me.”
Tori glanced back at Alfred’s limp form. She knew better than anyone what Jaxon’s father was capable of. He’d nearly caused the death of her best friend, Claire, less than a year ago. But that didn’t mean Tori wanted him dead. “What are you going to do with him?”
“He, along with his family, will pay with their lives.”
The floor shifted beneath Tori’s feet. “You’re going to kill them?”
The corner of Azrael’s mouth lifted. “That’s the plan.”
Another thought struck. “But Jaxon has a baby. Surely to God, you don’t mean to kill him too?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“But Claire—”
“Has to die also. There can be no witnesses left that can tie my family’s name to any of it.”
Tears of rage gathered in Victoria’s eyes. This monster sitting before her meant to destroy everyone she cared about. Over her dead body, she decided, glancing around for a way to escape.
“There isn’t a way out, Victoria Blanchard. I suggest you make yourself comfortable if you are to assist me in tarnishing the Sanders’ name.”
“Tarnishing? I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. If you think I’m going to help you hurt Jaxon and Claire, you’re sorely mistaken.”
In the blink of an eye, Damien’s uncle was suddenly in her face, his lips peeled back to reveal what could only be described as fangs.
Tori stumbled back in terror as she stared into the blood-red eyes of a monster. She’d known that shifters existed; the Sanders family had been a testament to that. Not to mention Ben with his familiar descent, but neither of those had shocked her much as the creature standing before her now.
“Vampire,” she breathed, holding her hands out in front of her defensively.
“Brains as well as beauty. Now sit.” He nodded toward the foot of the bed.
Tori wasn’t about to go near the bed with him looming over her like a cobra about to strike. “Thanks, but I think I’ll stand.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
A strange feeling came over her in that moment. Her eyes grew heavy and her body began to relax. The feel of her feet carrying her toward the bed felt foreign and unnatural as if someone else controlled her body.
She eased down to the mattress, never taking her gaze from the fiend in front of her.
“Winston?” Azrael called, while continuing to stare into Victoria’s eyes.
Tori became aware of another presence in the room, but she couldn’t seem to look away from Damien’s uncle long enough to investigate.
“Set the camera up over here.” Azrael’s voice, though calm, reeked of authority.
Another form, dressed all in black, appeared in Victoria’s peripheral vision. He began moving about, setting up what Tori assumed would be the camera Damien’s uncle spoke of.
Azrael’s eyes narrowed, and a throbbing started at the base of her skull, working its way up the back of her head toward her temples.
“Tell me your name,” her captor’s voice demanded in a soothing tone.
She answered without preamble. “Victoria Blanchard.”
“How did you come to know Alfred Sanders?”
No matter how hard she fought against the hypnotic state of her mind, she was powerless to prevent the words from spilling out of her mouth.
Tori recited everythin
g she knew about the Sanders family—from the kidnapping of her best friend, Claire, to the details of Mack Doyle’s death. Including Ben’s involvement.
She told of the money that Sarina had kept hidden for years, and Alfred’s part in Doyle’s release from prison.
Forgive me, Claire, her mind whispered, repeating the words like a mantra while her lips continued to move, revealing every sordid detail of the previous year’s nightmare.
“That’s good enough,” Azrael muttered to Winston. “Transfer the video content to disc and have the camera ready for tonight’s festivities.”
Victoria’s lethargic state left as quickly as it appeared. She took in great gulps of air, locking her fingers together to slow their trembling. A hatred unlike anything she’d ever felt settled over her like a blanket.
“Why—” Her voice broke, and she tried again. “How could you?”
“Don’t take it personal, my dear. If it’s any consolation, you won’t be around long enough to feel any shame.”
More damnable tears filled her eyes. “Does Damien know about this?”
Azrael exhaled a theatrical sigh. “I’m highly disappointed in my nephew. He disgraces the Devain name. Suffice it to say, he will not go unpunished.”
“So he’s innocent in all this?”
Azrael laughed. “He is far from innocent, my beauty. He was sent here to do a job, which he failed to do. I blame you for that.”
“Then Damien is a vampire also?”
“Do you think I would have trusted the job to a mere human? Of course he’s vampire. Although he’s an idiot with far too much of his mother’s genes. But he is my dead brother’s only son, and for that reason alone, I will spare his life.”
Tori kept her expression blank, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. She’d given her heart and body to a fiend, an undead creature with a soul as black as Harvey’s.
A shudder passed through her small frame. “And my life? What do you intend to do with me?”
Azrael jerked his chin in Alfred’s direction. “Once the drugs wear off and his wounds have healed, I plan to record him while he engages in several heinous sexual acts with…you.”
Consuming Damien (The Possessed Series Book 2) Page 10
